Finding One's Feet: Leaving Pertussis Behind in Stumptown

"Jackie-boy, what's your excuse this month? I don't see a heck of a lot of red on the map that the patented Boleyn's Eye View Sky Cluster OverLay Device (® iBoleyn, a holy-owned subsidiary of iSaint Steven Enterprises) spit out this morning." "Sky Cluster over..." "Yes, the Sky Cluster OverLay Device, or as I call it, SCOLD. Amazing the technological leaps we've made since becoming part of Heavenly-Hosted Enterprises (® iSaint Steven Enterprises). It seems like there's something new every day."

 Well, professor, I'll admit that I didn't put up my best numbers, but let me point a few things out." "Point away, Jackie-boy, I'm all ears. (Aside to readers: Actually, I'm not all ears, I will be bored to tears by the excuses this Lard-Ass offers for why he took it easy this month...). "Well, first, I draw your attention to the graph to the left. Take a look at April. You can clearly see the onset of illness, on or about April 6, as indicated by a dramatic change in dm/dd--that's the slope of the line..." "I know what the change in mileage over the change in time is Jack. Get on with it." "I continue. Note that the slope stays at a depressed rate, due to a bout with what I've diagnosed as pertussis..." "Wait, to quote Steve Martin, 'Who's the barber here?' I will be the one doing diagnosis. In fact, remind me to charge you for a copy of my new E-Book, Diagnosing Dilatory Dawdling: When 2-Stepping Goes Awry." "I continue again. See last month's entry for details. Now, I draw your attention to the data for May. Two things are evident: a depressed, but constant rate, from May 7 through 11, and then a recovery beginning May 12, that brings my mileage back to a respectable 234.36 for the month." "Hold on just a goll-durned minute, I'm the one who defines 'respectable' Jackie-boy. More details. What's with the May 7-11 flat spot?"

"Well, I thought you'd never ask. As I may not have mentioned, in order to decrease D'Mestiere Investigation's carbon footprint, we have not been traveling much. However, May 7-11 was a notable exception, having journeyed to beautiful Colville, Washington. Note the map to the left. I think I did a pretty good job of Covering Colville, don't you?" "Not exactly, Jackie-boy. The Sky Cam noted that you didn't make it east of Maple Street. Monsters up there or something?" "Er..." "Er is right, what's up there are hills, Jackie-boy and it would have done you some good to walk up some of them. This is not Strolling Towards Fitness, Jack. But enough of your lame excuses, what's the flat spot at the end of May?"








"Fiora and I went to Whidbey Island, Washinton to visit our friends Dania and Cuco." "And?" "Well, you know. We were visiting." "You mean drinking beer, Jackie-boy. Drinking beer! And hanging out in places where the likes of you gain weight by breathing. What am I going to do with you."

"But, we did more than that, Professor. We saw the Memorial Day parade where the Rodeo Princess had her name written on her horse's butt with glitter." "Very nice, but not one of 2 well-known Steps..." "We went to Laura's New and Experienced Goods, the store at the recycling dump and saw Jesus in a Hard Hat..." "Not Step 1 or Step 2..." "We, we...we went to the Farmer's Market and we walked on the beach.
 

























We ate a great breakfast...oops." "Forget it Jackie-boy. Lame excuse piled on top of lame excuse. Fact is, you could have topped 250 or 275 miles had you wanted to. That's why it is I, Professor Javier Boleyn, and not the likes of you, LARD-Ass Jackie-boy D'Mestiere, that determines what is and isn't respectable."





"But I didn't gain an ounce, Professor." "Didn't gain is not an acceptable 2-Step Duh! Diet outcome, Jackie-boy, and we are a performance driven outfit! I expect, no I demand better!"

 "Whoan!"

Putting it in Perspective: A Conversation with Dolly-girl D'Mestiere

"Saints alike, Jack, I plugged your numbers into an app on my new iPhone (® along with the rest of the currently known universe, and points beyond, by Steve Jobs) and I see you've walked from here to Rugby, North Dakota, the geographic center of North America!"








"Right, Dolly-girl. As Roberto says, the good thing about being in Rugby is that what ever way you go, you're headed to the beach. But, I think I've only walked to Shelby, Montana."

"Why's that, Jack?"

"'Cause I'm coming home to you, Fiora..."

Update from Stumptown: Waddling Through July

The results are in. Thirty-one days of waddling yielded 237.04 miles, a worn out pair of shoes (after over 670 miles), and an additional 4 pounds of LARD! left on the streets of Stumptown!





I continue to collect data as I know Dr. Rachel S. Graves, MD is all about data and she will give me a knowing and approving smile and nod the next time I see her. And, Professor Javier Boleyn just has to be proud!


You may recall that this all started one year ago with this post:

http://waddlingtowardsfitness.blogspot.com/2010/08/waddling-towards-europe-new-bill.html

You may also recall that it was inspired by the very trim President Bill Clinton who has been whispering in my ear for the last year. Inspiration, I like, but do I have to hear "Chels, when are you gonna have a baby?

Waddling Through June: 204.02 Miles on the Streets of Stumptown, Boise, and Juneau

June 30, the results are in. June is my waddlingest month so far. Professor Javier Boleyn will no doubt have a comment before long...

Waddling Through May: 201.96 Miles of Stumptown Concrete

Well, not quite. I logged about 4 miles in Wenatchee, Washington, 15 in Reno, Nevada, and 8 on Sauvie Island. Still, lots of red paths around town...

Dispatch from the War on LARD!: 2 Pails Left Behind

© Armour Star, no doubt
I strolled into Radio Room after a 12 mile urban waddle and settled into my usual stool. "Howzit, Jack?" "Good, Bar-Am, but I could use a little alone time, if you get my drift..." I couldn't miss the semi-hurt look on her kisser as she hopped down the bar with a pint of the good stuff. "Well, OK, I know where I'm..." I gave s shrug towards the good Professor's tap-cam. She gave me a wink and said, "You know, Agnes left one of her caps here and I need to hang it up where she can see it." Agnes is Aniela D'Ignacio--that's Angel of Fire in eye-talian, or eh-talian, as Dolly-girl would say--and she's one of the listen-to-what-she-says people around Radio Room. She's always got a nickel's worth of free advice (© Principal Strickland, Back to the Future, 1985) and it's good to listen to her. She's got her index digit on the pulse of Portlandia (© Raymond Kaskey, artist of the second-largest copper repoussé statue in the United States.) Bar-Am flipped the cap over a handle that was never pulled and gave me a nod. So that's where that cam is. "You know, Bar-Am..." She gave me the high sign so I shut my trap. She reached behind the bottle of Bulleit Bourbon Frontier Whiskey (©2009 Bulleit Distilling Company, Lawrenceburg, KY) and unplugged a hidden microphone. "OK, Jack. Good to go." "Roger, Bar-Am."


© Someone else as I copied it off Wikipedia
"I don't really need alone time, I just don't want to be talking to Professor Javier Boleyn today, of all days." "That 'cause of The Rapture, Jack 'cause I don't think it's gonna happen." "Naw, it's because today, after 293 days of the 2-Step Duh! Diet (© Boleyn Enterprises), I jumped on the scale and saw that I have lost 2 entire pails of LARD! Yep, 50 pounds of the stuff. Two-point-seven-three ounces per day for 293 days. I just want a day to not make a big deal of it and to not have him telling me 'It's not over Jackie-boy. You are still classified as 'overweight, just 0.6 BMI below OBESE'. You need to keep at it, Jackie-boy...' I just don't need that today. I don't need to be reminded that I still am a Sus scrofa domesticus over stocked with sub-cutaneous fat." "Jack, you got such a way with words. You mean you're still a fat hog!" I gave her a scowl. "More like 'still a LARD!-ass', Bar-Am."


© Someone else as I copied it off Wikipedia
"On it, Jack. You won't get it from me. Even though I am in league with Professor Boleyn, and of course, I have never had a weight problem myself as I most closely resemble a soda straw--a flex-straw, at that--I can appreciate that you just might want to sit here and have a beer..." "Or two..." "Or two--I could do that--and take a little pride in winning the War on LARD!




© Armour Star, no doubt
"Bar-Am, if it were only that easy. I've been fighting this battle for 45 years. The Battle of '67, the Skirmish of '79, the Conflict of '00, and now the War on LARD!--the mother of all Wars on LARD!" "What happened between '79 and '01 there Jack? Seems you skipped a beat." "Ah yes. You know, the usual, kids, tenure, divorce, hot, young girl friends. It all kept me fit. But, after I fell head-over-tea-cups for Fiora and accepted that she cottoned to me too, then it was down that slippery slope that is coated with the stuff--a different sorta Armour-all. Two-point-seven-three ounces per day goes on a lot easier and more pleasurably than it comes off." "I can imagine..." I knew she couldn't.




I hoisted the second beer just about the time my blower sparked. "That will be the Professor. Yallow. D'Mestiere Investigations." "Jackie-boy, is that you? The satellite cluster seems to be malfunctioning. Where are you?" "Radio Room, Professor. Having a second beer." "Is Bar-Am there?" "She gave her head a shake and I covered. "Nope. Substitute. She took the day off in case The Rapture was real." "Jack." His voice went to that deep place. "Jack, I've been trying to contact you all day to extend my congratulations. I was with another client this morning, but I reviewed the ScalE-mail (© Boleyn Enterprises) and see that you have reached a milestone. I offer my hearty, 'Well-done', but..." "Scratch, scritch...I think I'm losing you there, Professor.." "remember..." "...can't hear you...click. Lost him I guess. Damn Verizon." I flicked the blower to off. Bar-Am smiled and said, "This one's for you, Jack!"


Seriously, I do thank my talismans, Bill Clinton and Bill Nighy, my personal trainer, James Wimbish of Bo Weivel Lawn Maintenance, Bar-Am, Aniela D'Ignacio, and all the fun people at Radio Room who give me a place to walk to, Professor Javier Boleyn who, in real life, told me to eat less and move more, and Fiora D'Mestiere, the girl of my dreams.

4 Pounds from 2 Pails: A Stern Conversation with Professor Javier Boleyn

"How do you do, Bar-Am?" "Howzitz, Jack?" "Well, if Itz is my feet..." "Are my feet. No excuse for bad grammar, Jack." "...Are my feet, they are barking dogs. Fill 'er up and hop a cold one down the bar there, will you pal-o-mine?" "On it."

I gladly took the cold one Bar-Am set in front of me, took a sip, and reflected on the day. It didn't start well.





It was 8 bells on the morning watch when the blower sparked. I was in the shower when Fiora yelled in the door, "Jack, it's Professor Javier Boleyn on the blower. Get on out here 'cause I have to head on out to that writers' thing I have to be at today." She put the blower down on the sink and I dripped on over to it. I didn't even get a chance to speak before..."Jack. Jackie-boy. What, oh what, is going on?" I played dumb. "And don't play dumb with me. You know what I mean--the ScalE-mail (® Boleyn Enterprises) tells no lies. You are still 4 pounds short of the goal you set months ago. This is getting ridiculous and I want it over soon--I'll give you 2 weeks." "But Professor, it's, it's..." His voice softened. "I know, Jackie-boy, You're moving a lot more than you used to." Then back to stern. "But, you've morphed my patented 2-Step DUH! Diet into Move More, Eat More! Now get your LARD-ass out there and do some walking." "Wail! I know I've been eating too much, but when I walk so much, I get hungry." "And thirsty, by all accounts..."


I headed out. It doesn't help that when I'm out waddling I have to waddle by a bunch of great feedbags which just makes me hungrier. Take this one, for instance. Cocotte, a great little bistro like the ones me and Dolly-girl ran into over there in France back when I was carrying a pail more than I'm carrying now. So I waddle by, but stop to read the whaddayawant and I'm pretty sure I absorb LARD! just by doing that.


So, I scoped out a route that would take me by as few places to eat as possible. It was a nice day for riding shank's mare, and before long, I was watching the Alara K get filled to the brim with wheat. Probably to turn into buns for thick, juicy cheeseburgers someplace...




I waddled on over to Union Station and took a stroll through the National Train Day events, including the annual exhibition of the Daylight 4449. Couldn't absorb any LARD! there, could I?

I looked around because I knew that the Boleyn's-Eye-View (® Boleyn Enterprises) satellite surveillance system would have me center-frame. I didn't see any signs, but gave the burger stand a wide berth anyway.



I turned and headed back over the river to the part of town where me and Dolly-girl set our brake when I happened to remember that it was Derby Day. Hmmm, where in the world might be a place to sit down and watch some nags run on a Hi-Def TV? Where might I be warmed and dried by a fake birch log fire? After some thought, say about the time it takes an axon to fire, it came to me. Radio Room.



The pictures below were taken of the TV. I suspect there is some sort of law against doing that so I will duly note that I was watching NBC at the time.

The sound of the TV and of Bar-Am asking which silks were carrying my purse snapped me back to reality like Sister Mary Kathryn's ruler on my knuckles. "Jack, where were you? Off in the ozone?" "Oh, I was miles away Bar-Am--maybe 5 miles away at one point." I did notice that while I might have been gone figuratively, I must have been there literally because the pint Bar-Am had delivered at the beginning of the reflection as pretty much gone. Meanwhile, the pomp of the circumstance was starting.


Yep, they were out of the gate with my favorite, and a favorite of a lot of others, Dialed In in the 8th position. Last I saw of him. Finished his number and changed his name to Dialed Back.




Animal Kingdom came on at the end and Ran for the Roses. "Well, Bar-Am, I guess I'll have another one of those tall cold ones to wash down the sting of defeat." "Jackie-boy..." That was a tip-off. "...we got a cable from COMBEPAC this morning..." "COMBEPAC?" "...that's COMmander, Boleyn Enterprises, PACific. Word's being spread that you might try to go beyond the beer you've earned. Some sort of push on, it said. Something about only 4 to go so get tough and stay tough. I guess that cable was on the money, even though Dialed In wasn't..." "Wail!"



"The wire had instructions for us, Jack. Do the loop again, and then come back for another. Sorry."

"I know, Bar-Am. You're just the messenger. C'mon dogs, saddle up. We got concrete to pound..."