We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
I can hear, out my window this morning, the songs and calls of Pine Warbler, Black and White Warbler, Redstart, Red-eyed Vireo (not exactly a warbler), Magnolia Warbler, Yellow Warbler, Black-Throated Blue, Parula, Prairie Warbler, and a few more that I am not sure about.
My idea of watching the spring warblers is a chaise lounge lawn chair flat, under a big old oak tree with binocs. Preferably, a big oak near some juniper trees - which is why I planted my junipers and Japanese willows: to watch the warbler migration with minimal exertion. Let them come to you. Just wait for them to pass through the trees. Otherwise, it's a day of neck pain. Knowing their calls simplifies it: you don't have to try to see them. But plenty of them forage silently in the treetops. Especially the odd vireos.
Get out there and see these little jewels of Creation, and listen to their morning calls, as they pass by on their trip north.
I wander'd lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way, They stretch'd in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.
It is true that if you jog a mile three times/wk for a month you can add another mile the next month, and so on until you hit your limit (or the limit of available time). That's fine, but far from efficient endurance training.
It's good to see that the media is finally catching up with what exercise physiologists have known for decades: Mild-moderate aerobic cardiorespiratory/cardiovascular ("Cardio") exercising does not lead to much improvement (but it's better than sitting):
At the ordinary gym, you will see many people diligently, virtuously, monotonously, putting in their 45-60 minutes on treadmills, bikes, ellipticals, rowers. You will see joggers doing the same outdoors. They will not lose weight by doing that, they will not get stronger doing that, and it can only benefit (and then, only slightly) a damaged heart in cardiac rehab.
The American Heart Association doesn't tell you that. It's not their narrative. They are still telling people to avoid fats, so that tells you how out of touch they are.
This will surely be the most entertaining election in US history, and probably the most pointless, too. After all, Hillary wants to use government to make Government Great Again. And Trump promises to use government to make America Great Again.
Squats are among the Big Five or Big Six essential multi-muscle strength conditioning exercises. Contrary to what this lady implies, it's not for "toning." It's for functional strength and general endurance (but I guess it can cure Saggy Butt Syndrome too).
I found that I had to work up to barbell squats by using the leg press machine, doing plain squats, and doing goblet squats or heavy ball squats. Now I can do barbell squats. I did 5 sets of 6-10 this morning of increasing weights, and man do I feel it.
Her form is perfect. Get that butt back, chest out, head up, and go low. Perhaps lower than she goes if you can. This gal is strong and fit:
All of New York City - not just Manhattan - is a patchwork of neighborhoods. If somebody asks you where you live, you name a neighborhood, not a street. The neighborhoods, with their mostly fuzzy edges, are distinctive in character and more like towns with invisible boundaries.
During this Maggie's Hike on the past Saturday I figure we explored, or at least passed through, these Manhattan neighborhoods: Lower East Side and Alphabet City, the East Village, Gramercy Park, Murray Hill, a bit of Midtown, a slice of the Upper East Side, most of Central Park, the Upper West Side, and Morningside Heights to the edge of Harlem. Not bad for a day's stroll.
That was 12 miles in all and 7 hours total, including pit stops, lunch break, visits into some places of interest, etc. Heck, Advil works!
Pic above is not our starting DD on Delancey St. - that pic is on Houston St.
Our team included friends, relatives, friends of Maggie's (new friends) from all over.
We also had with us celebrities like Stuart of Had Enough Therapy, Francis of Manhattan Contrarian, Dave of Assistant Village Idiot, Donald Trump and Bob Dylan - Fine fellows all and engaging, entertaining companions. Delighted to meet them.
Pic documentary below the fold to see what you missed -
I only do the Conventional, because I do deads mainly to sturdy-up my "posterior chain," ie neck to back to calf to ankle. It has done a lot for my posture and my overall power. See recent pic of me, below (actually, not me but I self-identify as that so you have to accept it - and if you do not you may not use my bathroom):
Scoop of Haagen Dazs vanilla ice cream. Splash with a shot of your best Scotch whiskey, then lightly dust with freshly powder-ground dark espresso coffee bean. Scotch whiskey on an Italian dessert? I call that cultural appropriation.
If you don't like this, there is something wrong with you. Plus, it combines a sweet, an after-dinner drink, and after-dinner coffee, all-in-one.
Last night, friends served us home-made vanilla gelato with a handful of raspberries on top, then sprinkled with mini chocolate chips. Damn simple and tasty.
The other day, I tackled the vexing question of why so few Americans seem able to save enough. Today I’ll tackle the vexing corollary to this question: the assertion that if individuals can’t manage to save, the government must step in. Corporate pensions are dying, the argument goes, and private savings is laughably inadequate. Obviously, what we need is a much more generous Social Security system...
The Average American 29-Year-Old - Forget media archetypes of older Millennials as college-educated singles living in cities. The typical 29-year-old is living with a partner in the suburbs—without a bachelor’s degree.
But be contented: when that fell arrest Without all bail shall carry me away, My life hath in this line some interest, Which for memorial still with thee shall stay. When thou reviewest this, thou dost review The very part was consecrate to thee: The earth can have but earth, which is his due; My spirit is thine, the better part of me: So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life, The prey of worms, my body being dead, The coward conquest of a wretch's knife, Too base of thee to be remembered. The worth of that is that which it contains, And that is this, and this with thee remains.