— Month of November workout totals: Swim-7; Bike-0; Run-3; Lift-0; Yoga-0
— If I keep up this exercise pattern, I won’t be able to call myself a triathlete any more. It’s interesting that during these weeks of low-grade anxiety and stress, I’ve fallen back primarily on what was my “boyhood sport.” Since those days of backyard family fun and our frigid plunges at Dunn’s pool, swimming has always been my favorite physical activity. (Don’t tell anybody on the Bicycle Commission!) More than that, being a lifeguard enabled me to escape unpleasant fast-food and grocery jobs, providing a foundation of employment during my youth until I developed entry-level creative skills. Truthfully, I never understood why a young guy would want to work all day when he could build a nice tan while observing pretty girls in bikinis.
— Dana and I were badly in need of some soul nourishment, so we visited the Indianapolis Museum of Art this morning before our stop at the hospital. The special exhibition we “accidentally” found out about and then had to see—International Arts and Crafts—was even more astonishing than we’d hoped for. It was so phenomenally well-done, I have to think back to the famous Tutankhamen or Impressionist exhibitions, or my experiences at the Van Gogh, Rodin, or Tate galleries in Europe, to find any parallels. This one will stick with me for a long, long time and open up many new areas of personal investigation. The
Speed Museum was still open when we came through Louisville tonight, so we caught about an hour of Mary Ann Currier. Fortunately, her stunning work can be appreciated purely at the sensory level, because the show at the IMA had thoroughly exhausted my capacity for intellectual delight.
— I can’t get over the costs involved in maintaining Bruce‘s extraordinary care. Prior to his recent surgery I saw him get a 1-ml intramuscular injection that carried a $1,000 price tag. That’s a million dollars a liter, for cryin’ out loud! The night before we came home, the lab prepared a bag of custom-mixed IV nutrition that was worth $1,500, but for some unknown reason Bruce refused to take it. Certain people were not very happy about that. I’m beginning to think his months-long iron will is morphing into a bored, laid-back stubbornness. He needs to get out of the frickin’ hospital.