So I'm glad that today is over and now there're all the fewer days before the big one and so forth--little to say these days, really--just the usual Monday routine soon to be disrupted as the school year ends and another season of 24 draws to a close--I really should track down season 3 and get caught up--in the meantime, I am running out of excuses for not amping up my exercise regimen as the school year winds down--it's just a matter of staying healthy despite Wifey's persistent minor snotty illnesses which he's still recovering from...

Meanwhile, I suppose it's good that all my sister blogs here are active again after a too-long absense. Now I just need to get the old novel back into the mix, somehow--I've got more ambition than time once more, and it'll soon begin to gnaw at me again--or maybe it's this hunger inside me even as I try to cut back on my intake, but what I really need is a return to the old lifting regimen, which is far too difficult when all you want to do after watching Errol Morris' slow softball pitches at/for Robert McNamara (can this prick stop talking about money?) and this bullshit Fog of War. I was rolling my eyes all the way through and snickering at the more nonsense moments--what is one to do about the humdrum way in which the white excuse themselves for everything?