kvetching up

29 days of vacation burning a hole in my pocket.  Where to? Fridays. I generally love Fridays--what worker chained to work Monday-Friday doesn't love the end of the week? Truth be told, however, I cannot wait for this Friday to pass--the my last one before Abby comes home as a rising senior from MHC.  I'm not sure if she is home all summer or for a brief amount of time--today is the day she will begin hearing back from museums she has applied to around the country with regard to paid summer internships. Summer is nearly upon us. I want to go somewhere, see things I haven't seen before. I am dreaming of Italy. Milan, Rome, Palermo.  .   . Or maybe just Parkland. I've always wanted to be on Cops.  .   .  

 Entry 1 WSP, Greenwich Village, 2022 175.0 lbs. Pretty happy with that. It too shall pass. My goal weight is so ridiculously low (or is that high?)--not set by me but by a chart. I will be happy when I hit 160 lbs.--my intermediary goal. 160. It will happen. I would like to be alive long enough to see my girls finish college. If I can become obsessed with this, well, there may be hope for living for another decade or so. After two years, and sparse use, I have taken to using my treadmill to supplement my cardio rehab. It knows my name, my goals and talks to me as I work out, addressing me as Geoff which is a bit forward if you think about it. It is pseudo-AI. I can't wait until all the workout equipment, and the fridge, stove, oven, microwave, debit card and all the items in the store are all connected by AI. I can see it now. I go to open the bakery door. It is voice activated, no more nasty germ contact. I say, "Open the donut cabinet doors, pal." A voice emanating fro...