Judo

It's now been over three weeks since Michelle and I began taking judo lessons. We've been going twice a week and are starting to notice a slight increase in our stamina...encouraging given our level of deterioration. 

The lessons are private which allows me to encourage Chaz, our instructor, to use his Army bootcamp Sergeant's voice with Michelle. She's somewhat cat-like and if you're not paying close attention she'll try and get away with stuff like pretending she did the #7 pushup when, in fact, she just skipped it. Another advantage to the privacy is being able for all to share in the laughter as we struggle to heft our obesity and wrangle the challenges of groaning olde.

Chaz has demonstrated exemplary flexibility in modifying the workouts as we encounter plantar fasciitis, generalized aches, joint stiffness and, for me, shortness-of-breath.

Weight has been an issue since my mid-forties when my thyroid gave out. It's disheartening to see the continued "widening" as age erodes the stamina; the WILL continues though!

 

I like to think the hat, with its authentic gamsbart 

Olde Goat

(Capricorn)

lends a Burgermeister-esque quality to my "dimensionality." I only need to lose about 50 pounds (22kg) in order to fit into my lederhosen. YAH! Nussing but carrots und turkey breast frum now on!

Judo & Archery

Gracie Barra's dojo has been around for decades. As it happens, we pass nearby every day on our way to Michelle's 7x/week cat-sit. Though I enjoyed the karate I studied, I no longer have the stamina, even if they WERE holding class (covid preempted). But the ranolazine Dr. Marin, my cardiologist, recently prescribed has boosted my energy such that I called Barra's and set up an intro session for this past Wednesday.

Desktop Tableau

I was pleasantly surprised to discover I'm not dead yet. Chaz, a brown belt, was considerate of my condition and took me through a half-hour of light calisthenics and stretches followed by a tutorial in a basic rear-ward fall and recovery. Though a tad over-tired through the afternoon, I was encouraged enough to call today, Friday, to ask about further instruction. 

Instead of waiting at the 7x cat-sit, I've been going to the indoor archery range every few days. It's close enough to the client's home I can get in a half-hour of practice and return within the allotted time. 

A few days ago we bought a pair of rackets similar to those used in pickleball; we call it Swat & Fetch. Though neither of us can hit the wiffle ball straight, let alone "back," (thus the name), sisyphean artists that we are, it seems perfectly natural to watch the ball fly off at tangentials (from the intended direction) and then "rest" while the other waddles to retrieve. 

Ever curious about trajectory each time we "swat," there's a Zen-esque quality to the wait while the other completes the amble-of-retrieve. The game could only appeal to imbeciles. Fortunately, that's us! (Besides, "exercise," as any aesthete will tell you, is an expletive.)  

We achieved a milestone when we sold Michelle's lightbox (used 30 years ago in making her serigraphs) through Craigslist. Artists, as everyone knows, NEVER part with something that MIGHT be used again...someday. But after 30 years Michelle decided its time had come. As luck would have it, a young woman who works at a silk-screen shop had just bought a house and was setting up a fine art studio in her new home. The box, beautifully crafted in wood by Michelle's mom's former husband, found the perfect new home.

I have yet to find an instructor, but am having a great time noodling around on my Excelsior accordiana. (See: Accordion Concentration)