With spring, the light precedes the warmth. The light makes me feel like I should be doing something outside, while the lack of heat prevents me from the consummation of reading on the back patio. Spring is a tease - all short skirt and no cattle.
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A tweet from Fr. Martin left me feeling a twinge of wonder: he said he was asked what he likes about being a Jesuit and he was left speechless since there is SO MUCH. Wow. Now that’s evangelistic.
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One thing I’ve noticed about drinking in this era compared with past eras: I appreciate it more though I enjoy it less. Which is not to say I don’t enjoy it greatly now - I do - but I couldn’t possibly enjoy it MORE than I did in the context of those long alcohol-fueled nights listening to live country bands and dancing. But back then I took it more for granted. Now, with weight a concern, beers have to pull their own weight, so to speak.
It’s relatively easy to do twenty minutes of exercise five times a week. But to double the exercise, as I should, is more problematic. Being heavier looks pretty acceptable compared to two hundred minutes of exercise every week. Besides, what more characteristically characterizes middle age than a burgeoning weight, a broadening middle? That’s why it’s called “middle” age, isn’t it? The word middle seems to connote what it means. Two big “d’s” in the center, like a beer belly. I suppose two and a half hours of exercise in the course of a normal week doesn’t seem too terrible. The trouble is actually doing it.