tobermory's Diaryland Diary

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Trolling

I am such an idiot. I have a group of wonderful friends coming into town for the weekend and have many exciting activities planned that should include imbibing drinks and perhaps even dancing at various local drinking establishments and what did I do? I, after months of almost complete sloth, took a Body Pump class (essentially group weightlifting set to bad music and also apparently now called ‘Group Power’) on Wednesday at my gym. Did I take it easy? No, because that would have been the smart and rational thing to do. Instead I piled on the weight to almost my old usual level to show that I am no out of shape pussy. Today I am practically crippled. I had to pee this morning and I actually used the handicapped stall so I could use the grab-bar to ease the pain of sitting. I sneezed and recoiled from the ripping pain that erupted across my abdomen. I am loading up on advil and hoping that alcohol will act as the great equalizer/lubricant and allow me to do slightly more that rock gently back and forth in my clogs on the dance floor.

Anyway, I was off on vacation in rural Wisconsin last week and it was beyond fabulous. A full week of relaxation is worth every penny. Steve and I slept late every morning and puttered about in our pj’s drinking coffee and making pancakes, we visited nearby towns like Mineral Point, Paoli, Monroe and Madison. Almost every town in the area has an ethnic touristy schtick going on – New Glarus is ‘America’s Little Switzerland’, Mineral Point is a Cornish mining settlement and is famous for their Cornish Pasties (basically a meat pie – not a sparkly betassled nipple cover), and Mt. Horeb is ‘Troll Country!’ and a Norwegian settlement. All up and down the main shopping area are four foot high carved trolls. There was a really cute house that had been converted to a gift shop and was now for sale on the main drag and Steve commented that it would be a great house once you threw out all the kute giftie krappe that they had for sale. I said, “sure, but it’s on the main street and you’d have eager beaver tour groups peering in your window all day long – you’d have to get the troll carver guy to make you a ‘Fuck You’ troll for your front yard to keep them at bay.” Hence, for the rest of the vacation both Steve and I would occasionally start giggling and mutter, ‘heh, ‘Fuck You’ troll….heheheh’.

I should have some more interesting things to report after the wild weekend ahead.

3:36 p.m. - 2006-09-15

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