After a night at the casino and El Club Disco, it was lonely. A Pax on one. So be it.
Circling up is a bit existential. So after some SSHs, Imperial Squats, Parker Peters, a mosey to survey the beach front. Stop along a lower portion of a wall to do 10 box jumps (walls are always too high, no matter how low), 20 derkins, 25 low slow dips, 20 incline merkins, 25 dips. A groundskeeper in a golf cart thought I had fallen and hurt myself: muy simpatico. Some more moseying on the beach in the sand: that’s not for the faint of ankle. Then, some of my favorite Mary: dying cockroaches, Dr. Ws, Russian Twists, bird dogs, merkins, and some other things I can’t remember (I get respect, but what I also need for time to time is pity). More moseying to a quiet pool: several laps for a wrap up.
The namorama went quickly, the circle of man was, as I said before, existential. Where were Heisenberg and Bogey? Colonel? Dr. Pepper? You’re all forgiven.
Every man is his own Q JV. A guy who went to Yale should know that.