If I have to swallow some down time, I’m sure as hell going to enjoy it.* OK, I’m not going overboard — much — but I am going to try to worry slightly less about stuff until I’m ready to test the groin again. (I’m also apparently going to enjoy writing about my groin. Groin.… Read More sloth.
I think we will go there.
Let’s go back to September 1999, when I was faced with a tough decision. No, it wasn’t whether I would marry Mrs. Crappy; I went ahead and did that on Sept. 25 that year, and I’m still happy I did. The decision came a week earlier, when OU, the Crappys’ alma mater, sent its… Read More answered.
We’ve been without television for a few days — thanks for that, Comcast — and have resorted to going through our DVD collection for entertainment in the interim. We’re well-equipped for this. For instance, on Saturday, Mrs. Crappy pulled out our boxed set of Looney Tunes classics and popped them on for a traditional Saturday-morning… Read More saturday morning.
The nice British lady was right. When I got to the corner of Viruth Street and Benton Avenue this morning, she told me to start running. I would be running for the next twenty minutes, something I hadn’t done since I was in the Army more than 20 years ago. My legs felt a little… Read More 7. twenty. no, really.
Couch to 5K tricked me in Sunday. It won’t get away with that again. I was expecting a series of five-minute runs, as had been the case the previous day. The first run felt long, but I didn’t look at the clock; that always feels like cheating to me. But when the nice British lady… Read More 6. twenty.
Uncle Crappy 