Today was a rowing sort of day. We got out to the lake a bit before six to meet
AussieCoach, who had very kindly offered to do a video-and-critique session, just
for us. After spending some time being filmed, we practiced "formation flying",
probably much to the amusement of anyone watching. We hope to get someone to stand
on the bridge and take a picture of us, close together, in our spiffy pretty
boats. Ideally, I'd like to make that into a poster with and appropriate poem by
Robert Frost -- the one that ends "Together, wing to wing and oar to oar". (With
all the spelling correct, unlike the poster I bought that incorporates a section
of Tennyson's Ulysses.) Of course, if we wear our flag-inspired unis and
use our flag-painted oars, I may have to Photoshop the design a bit so viewers
aren't blinded. Or donate it to a first-grade art class. ("Children, today we're
learning about primary colors.")
We came home and did a few chores,
including putting a new battery in my truck, then met AussieCoach at one of our
favorite brewpubs to review the video. He had a digital videocam hooked up to a
laptop -- very slick. There were plenty of things I need to improve, of course.
(Rowing consists of trying to perform a single sequence of motions, absolutely
perfectly, hundreds of times in a row -- there are ALWAYS things to improve.) But
the thing was, I didn't look half-bad overall. Not only have I rarely viewed
videos of myself rowing without embarrassment, I've rarely seen myself on video or
TV for any reason without cringing. But this wasn't bad. In fact, AussieCoach had
even somehow chosen an angle in which my potbelly some hidden by my elbows or the
boat at all times. Maybe he needs to rethink his day job -- lots of brides would
pay well for that sort of service.
After that, we went to a Volvo
dealership, because Rudder's Cherokee is nearing its last gasp and he wanted to
check out their new convertibles, and ran into Stinky (arguably the best rower on
our lake) and the future Mrs. Stinky (also a rower, which is how they met).
Unfortunately, we didn't run into any useful salespeople because the dealership
was closed, so we consoled ourselves by going across the street (they call that
area the Motor Mile for a reason) and looking at Jaguars instead. Of course,
Rudder *would* like the rabidly expensive XK8 best, which puts a damper on that
idea, but we also both liked the S-class cars, which are cool-looking in a bulbous
and quirky sort of way, and whose sticker price resembles the downpayment on a
nice house, rather than the whole house.