Off to the Gym

The photo on the left is a great commentary on the American diet, junk food and general lack of restraint. The Italians loaned Michelangelo’s “David” to an American gallery for a year and this is how he returned.


The other day, as I got out of the shower, I saw my reflection in the mirror and said to myself as I have on many previous occasions, “Johnston, your wife better outlive you because this is not dating material.” My solution was to join a gym. You have to understand that my experiences with gyms and health clubs have been unsatisfactory ventures. It’s not because I have not lost weight or improved my physical conditioning; it’s because the last three gyms I joined went out of business. The first one mysteriously turned into a dog food store. The owner of the second one packed up a U-Haul one Sunday, locked the doors and left town. The owner of the last one ran off with a dental hygienist from Humptulips and went bankrupt when his wife divorced him and fleeced him to the point his total net worth consisted of one pair of Fruit of the Looms and a Starbucks card. He was forced to live on his boat.

She Who Must Be Obeyed suggested I join her gym. I figured why not. People are always asking me what gym I go to. I figured, even if I don’t go, I will be able to tell them I belong to one. I went to the desk and told the girls that my wife sent me and I was suppose to sign up. It was all taken care of in less time than it takes to sign a will. A few days later the owner of the gym called to say that my wife had won third prize in their referral contest. It seems that anyone who referred someone who actually joined the gym was eligible for a drawing. Turns out she actually won third prize because she referred me. I think they got three referrals. She never wins anything so I figured this was a good omen. I suggested she run right out and buy me a Power Ball lottery ticket. Her reply was, “Listen Skippy……but I forget the rest. The major award was a helicopter ride provided by Larry’s Helicopter, Tire Store and Funeral Services. Not bad for a lady who does not like looking down from great heights, who won’t even look down those metal cattle crossings you find in Montana and Idaho. Come to think of it, she won’t look down at the fake ones that are just painted on the road either. I’ll tell you about the ride another time.

I went to the gym this morning and as I walked up to use one of the machines I was abruptly moved to the side by a woman of vast proportions. She said it was her favorite machine and did I mind. I never argue with anything that outweighs me and could potentially humiliate me with a quick shot to the head. Sometimes obtaining the body of Adonis just has to give way to survival. The only real benefit of the encounter is that I am no longer a candidate for laxatives.

Thanks for listening. I feel much better.

Rails To Trails

Here in Thurston County we are fortunate to have a series of paved trails that in the past were part of a regional railroad system. Over time, the right- of- ways have been acquired by cities and the county. With the help of a number of grants they have been turned into a great place to ride a bike, roller skate, walk or whatever else you want to do on the trail. Statistically, anyone who rides a bike on a public road will eventually be hit by a car or truck. Riding on a trail significantly lowers the risk.


The trails are not without hazards however. On the trail between 14th Ave in Lacey and Indian Summer Golf Course you are likely to encounter lots of older people walking their yappy little dogs. There are signs indicating that all dogs have to be on a leash but that it often ignored. Some dogs are leashed, but on extremely long tethers which makes the leash useless. No thrill is greater than running over a dog while traveling 15 mph on a bike. Come to think of it, getting a rabbit caught in your spokes comes in a close second. Absolutely nothing, however,compares with an old lady going into cardiac arrest when you run over her little fluffy poo.

One day I encountered a couple out walking their dogs. She had three and he was grappling with another four. I slowed down to a crawl and when I passed them I said. “Wow! This looks like a Korean buffet.” He laughed. She didn’t. . Little yappy dogs or “rats on a rope” as I like to call them, are still the biggest hazard.

When I pass people walking the trail, I always pass on the left. I always give fair warning by saying in a firm voice, “On your left”. People with normal brain matter move to the right, but those whose latest brain test scored “oblivious” or lower always move to the left. I have considered yelling “Move your @$$ to the right” but I don’t think it would do any good. I have also considered putting a bell on my handlebar but then I would have to put a pink basket above the front wheel.

I once settled an insurance claim where a 14 yr old boy ran over a 92 year old man who was walking on the Burke Gillman Trail in Seattle. The kid was watching his gears change instead of watching where his bike was going. If I recall, the total settlement was in the neighborhood of $17,000. Because Washington is a strict liability state where dogs are concerned, I pity any dog owner whose dog might drag me off the trail and into the bushes. My motto is…”All Dogs Should Be Eaten”

Thanks for listening, I feel much better.

Death By Salad

Every morning check the local obituaries to see if I am listed and if I don't find myself listed, go about my day. I saw a grave marker the other day that said “ See, I told you I was sick”. It’s one of my favorites. I am afraid that my gravestone will say… “Death by salad”. By the way, the frog in the package of salad pictured at the left is alive and well. But he hasn't eaten the salad yet.


Men, left to their own resources would live strictly on mac and cheese. burgers, french fries, soda pop and Twinkies. Those who are not Mormons would add beer and cheese whiz to the list. Women on the other hand require at least one and preferably two salads per meal whether they are Mormons or not.

She who must be obeyed has decided that no day shall pass without at least two salads on the table. I get to choose. I choose not to have salad at breakfast.

 Miraculously there will appear a green salad, a tan salad (macaroni), a taco salad, a fruit salad, oriental noodle salad, three bean salad with at least two different kinds of beans, or some kind of salad with nuts in it at lunch and dinner. Or a whole list of other things which can be loosely considered salad in some obscure culture. There are at least twelve different salad dressings in the fridge along with a couple of homemade varieties. Women go to great lengths to come up with the perfect dressing for each salad. Men are less inventive and will settle for a mixture of catsup and Miracle Whip.

Most of the fruit salads are made from the peaches and pears put up last fall with a few grapes imported from Chile and then frozen into a slush which can only be served if the temperature outside is at least minus 12 degrees Fahrenheit. Frozen fruit salad never appears on hot days. I am beginning to think that she may have misunderstood the “green” movement and thinks it means salads.

As a defense I have decided that the sauerkraut and onion on my Costco hotdog qualifies as salad and I can skip the large bowl at dinner. There are ways around most things.

Thanks for listening, I feel much better.