How To Disappear Completely

I discipline my body and make it my slave

...although at times, that slave stages an insurrection.

Now that fencing practice is back in full swing, my muscles feel like petrified jelly--the only thing keeping them from buckling outright is the rigor mortis. Our coach made us feel somewhat better by reminding us that fencing takes entirely different muscles than running or biking or in fact any other sport (except ballet perhaps). So though the soreness is entirely expected, life is still hobbling along right now.

At least we didn't have to run stairs last night. Rather, we went outside and ran on the track. Since my previous educational experiences never included track and field facilities, this was the first time I had ever run on a track. It was spongy. I pretended I was Max Fisher in order to make the laps pass faster.

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This morning I made plum sauce under dillusions of culinary grandeur. And I do believe it actually worked. I've also decided to give up trying to make UK flapjacks without Teflon. It just doesn't work in a glass pan. I've created enough numerous failures to make the case convincingly.