Prologue

Excerpt from the Doctoral Thesis of Clifford Barrow

Most technological advancements throughout history have served as markers. They show how far humanity has travelled but instead of being a grand discovery, they are often simply the inevitable next step built on the ones that come before. There are, however, a few markers on the path where humanity fell out of step with slow march forward and took giant leaps.

Such leaps include the development of traversable wormholes generators, or TWG’s, which allowed humanity to finally break free of its home system and begin harvesting all that the universe had to offer. But even this leap wouldn’t have been possible were it not for discovery of reproducible Low Energy Nuclear Reactors, which provided safe and affordable power for humanity to reach for the stars. These sciences rewrite the rules and the tools of the past are put away and we have to relearn how to learn.

By their nature these leaps are not common and rarely do people realized or enjoy the great gift provided. No one alive in any of the systems remembers a time where you could not visit another habitable planet; to us the universe has always been at our disposal. To think that there was once a time where we were bound to a single blue dot, like animals. We cannot appreciate the freedom into which were were born.

“Is it raining today?”

This was not the first time Professor Clifford Barrow had made this joke but his students laughed right along as if it were. The class room was brightly lit like the rest of the University and stood in stark contrast to the dark and rainy weather outside. Before Clifford arrived on the planet, he had not realized that when they said it always rained on Ravis, they meant it always rained on Ravis. It was a constant rainstorm and the sun almost never broke through the dark cloud coverage forcing the planet into a perpetual state of night. This provided few distractions for the students and is perhaps one of the reasons Ravis was known for producing the some of the brightest minds in Council Space.
Clifford was never bothered by the weather. He spent most of his time indoors where things were well lit and always dry. He would be at the University or at his apartment or in a shuttle on the way from one to the other. Ravis University had even provided a driver for Clifford as one of the perks to persuade him to stay on as a professor; so even in transit the constant rain was never more than a backdrop.
“Well I guess we’ll have to have class indoors then,” Clifford chuckled. Despite his tendency to be a bit of a recluse and his apparent inability to make a good joke, Professor Barrow was well liked. Among some of his students he was even sort of respected.

“Steve, please bring up the first equation.” The only noticeable change in the room was a small hum emanating from the 7 foot tall android in the corner and the view screen on the wall lighting up with a 2,311 character mathematical equation. “Now who recognizes this?” After a few moments several hands went up. “Miss Klein?”

A petite girl in the front row responded, “Is that the Crabbe equation?”

“I don’t know, is it?”

“Yes, sir. It’s the Crabbe equation, first designed by James Crabbe.”

“Excellent Natalie. That’s exactly right; extra points for the history lesson. Who knows what is significant about this equation, someone other than Natalie? Adam?”

“I didn’t have my hand raised, sir.”

“Does that mean you don’t know the answer?”

“Yes, I mean no, I mean I think I do.”

“Well let’s hear what you think it is.”

Adam fidgeted in his seat for a moment and leaned in as if staring at it long enough would make him more certain of the answer. “It’s for calculating Wormhole jumps, I mean, it’s for navigating or plotting the entrance or exit points when traveling great distances. Right?”

“Boom! Couldn’t have said it better myself, sir. Congratulations.” Clifford stepped out from behind his desk and began addressing the entire class. “The Crabbe equation is what has allowed travel through human generated wormholes. Now, the hardware was developed first. We could generate entrances and exits but it was impossible to know for certain where the exit came out at; there are planets, stars, moons, comets and any number of astrological bodies that could make exiting blindly very dangerous. So to safely plot the exit points we needed to know the math. Now, I want each of you to plot a course from Ravis to Landes 4. You may use your star charts to fill in the variables, but shut off your automated navigation systems. I want you all to do the math.” A groan erupted from every student in the room, even as they shut off the systems and began their calculations.

Bryan Chapel, a third year in the back row raised his hand. Without even looking Professor Barrow said, “Yes, Mr. Chapel?”

“Professor, is this really necessary?”

“Do you mean, is it necessary for you to do an assignment your professor is giving you? Yes, that is necessary.”

“But when would we ever need to actually do this? Every Omni-Interface has the capabilities to work out this equation. It just seems like busy work.”

“You want to know when we would need to do this. Well, ‘need’ is an interesting choice of words, Mr. Chapel. To survive, humans need only to take in nutrients, breath oxygen and expel waste. But as a race, humans have never been satisfied with the bare minimum; of merely existing. There is a drive inside of us,” Clifford slammed his fist down on a desk, waking up a startled first year student. “Some deeper than others, I guess. But to make use of this drive, to actually go forward, works like the Crabbe equation must be developed and perfected but more than that they must be understood. What good are tools if a person doesn’t have the wisdom to use them? It is people like you who can take a club and turn it into a purposeful precision instrument.”

“But professor, that’s just my point. If the instrument has already been made shouldn’t we just move on to other things?”

“Let’s assume for a moment that the reason you’re asking this is because you have a genuine philosophical concern and not simply that you’re lazy.” Clifford never tried to hide his annoyance from his students. “My job as a educator is not to have you memorize short cuts but to cultivate in you both knowledge and a desire for wisdom. How can you ever go beyond running if you never understand walking?”

“I don’t follow professor.”

“Steve, bring up the next slide.” The equation vanished and the image of an elderly man replaced it. “Who knows who this is?” Every student, even Bryan and the sleepy first year student studied the image trying to place him. “Anyone? Does anyone even have a guess?”

“Is it James Crabbe,” Natalie said.

“Negative. Nice try though, Miss Klein. Anyone else?” Clifford let the class sit in silence for over a minute before he continued. “Abraham Meysenburg, not satisfied with the Crabbe equation and possibly tired of having his professors make him workout the solution, insisted that the equation could be simplified. Even though it had been in use for generations and the computers were more than capable working doing the work for him, Meysenburg knew another answer had to be out there. He spent most of his life searching for it. After years of diligent searching, he found it. Steve?” The face was replaced by another, much shorter equation. “The Meysenburg Theorem.”

“So,” Bryan began, “He just made it shorter.”

“Just made it shorter?” Clifford was visibly offended.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to belittle how difficult it was; he was a brilliant man, clearly. But you said yourself he spent years working on this and what did it net him? A man of his intelligence might have discovered any number of things. It just seems to me that it might have been a waste.”

No one made a sound and every eye turned to Professor Barrow waiting for what he would say.

“Mr. Chapel, are you familiar with the extranet?”

“Of course.”

“What is it?”

“Sir?”

“Explain to me what the extranet is, please.”

Bryan wondered what his professor was getting at. He looked around the room hoping someone would back him up, but no support was in sight. “The extranet is a communications network that spans across the known star systems.”

“Correct. Did you ever wonder how it worked?”

“No sir, I did not. But then, I’m not a communications major.”

“Well, it’s an extremely complex and difficult task to plot a course and then generate a traversable wormhole and then send a ship from one star system to another. Imagine then, the incalculable bits of data that would be needed to allow your handheld devices, the little POI on your wrist, to connect to and to retrieve information that was being generated from another handheld device on another planet, even one in the same system let alone from another star. Now imagine billions of people accessing the same system at the same time. Are you imagining?”

“Yes sir.”

“And?”

“And it seems like a lot of data.”

“Indeed it is. Steve?” The face of Abraham Meysenburg reappeared on the screen. “I present to you the father of the Extranet, who was also not a communications major.” Applause filled the room. “You see Mr. Chapel, while Meysenburg did stand on the shoulders of Crabbe, it was his full understanding of Crabbe’s work that allowed him to go further. A computer can answer questions, but only humans can ask them. Never be satisfied with standing still. The more prepared you are the further forward you can go, and if you’re prepared enough humanity will follow. Now, I’d like to see some courses plotted to Landes 4.”

“Yes sir.”

Clifford and Steve walked through the halls of the University toward the transport landing pad. The two were a common sight for the students. There was Clifford Barrow, the not tall professor in his late twenties and Steve, the 7 foot tall faceless android. Like all Simov-3 model androids, Steve had an optional face but Clifford thought it was unnerving and programmed Steve to find the face uncomfortable. Clifford preferred it that way though when the two of them were speaking he did sometimes have a hard time knowing where to look.

Unlike other professors, Clifford didn’t keep office hours and it was always a race to reach the shuttle without being stopped by a student or some other faculty member that wanted to chat.

“How did they do, Clifford?”

“Not horrible. See for yourself.” He began uploading the results into the Droid’s memory. “Most of them at least would have arrived at the right star. Adam Clark unfortunately plotted a course directly into star’s core.”

“Gruesome.”

“Hardly. Can you think of a quicker death than sudden exposure to those temperatures?”

“I was thinking more of every atom in his body collapsing in on itself.”

“Ouch.”

“How did you know the Meysenburg Theorem would be relevant to today’s lesson?”

“What do you mean relevant? It was today’s lesson. I wanted to motivate them to seek out information rather than just replicate it. Math is not often thought of as an exploratory science, hopefully they think a little differently now.”

“Professor?” a voice called out from behind him.

“Keep walking Steve. Pretend you can’t hear.”

“I can hear her heartbeat Clifford; it is not likely that she would believe that I could not hear her yelling from 25 feet away. Besides, she is running to catch up. You might as well turn around.”

“Damn.” Clifford turned to face the enthusiastic young student Natalie Klein, a first year. She stopped short just before running into the professor and took a moment to catch her breath. “Miss Klein, what a pleasant surprise.”

“I’m glad I caught you, sir.”

“Yeah me too. I was close to leaving. So close. What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to thank you for today’s lesson.”

“Thank me? Really?” Clifford could not hide the surprised look on his face.

“Absolutely. Most teachers just shot out the information and want us to repeat it back. You seem like you genuinely want us to learn and I appreciated that.”

“Of course I do. I’d be wasting time if I didn’t, both space and time.”

Natalie laughed and Clifford wondered if she had made a joke that he had missed. It would not have been the first them something like that had happened. “We wouldn’t want that now would we. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, I don’t really do anything. You’re a very bright student and you’ve come a long way this semester. You should be proud of your work.”

“You’re embarrassing me.” Natalie turned her eyes to the floor causing her hair to fall in front of her face. She was trying to hide the fact that she was blushing. “But I appreciated it.”

“Well.” Clifford began with no where else to go. They stood there in silence for a few moments.

Steve’s voice piped up. “Your transport is waiting Professor.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” Natalie said, “I’m sure you must have other important things to do. I don’t want to keep you.”

“It’s no worry,”
“Do you mind if I walk with you?”

“Not at all.”

The three made for the landing pad. “So, you’re a fan of Albert F. Vinson?” Natalie asked.

“What makes you say that?”

“You quoted him, during your lesson, ‘The more prepared you are, the further forward you can go; if you’re prepared enough humanity will follow.’ That’s the last thing he said before the maiden voyage of the Yngvar. Right?”

“I’m impressed. Yes it was. It was also the last sentence in his autobiography, well his first autobiography. Or was it the second. Steve?”

“It was the second,” Steve answered without a moment’s hesitation.

“It was the second,” Clifford repeated.

“So you’ve read them?” Natalie asked.

“Oh a bunch of times. The man was a genius.”

“Like Meysenburg and Crabbe?”

“Albert Vinson is in a class all his own, or was. Don’t get me wrong, the work of Meysenburg and Crabbe was revolutionary but how can you compare them to the man who created the synthetic brain technology? I mean that redefined how we store and transfer information. He actually invented something that can learn. He’s the reason I have Steve.”

“I don’t usually see you this excited Professor.”

“Not to mention he designed the on board TW generator; the Yngvar was a technological wonder. Scientists are still trying to figure out how to give a ship the ability sustain a wormhole even as its going through it, and Vinson had one 75 years ago.” Clifford paused, pondering the endless implications. “The day the Yngvar disappeared the human race lost a great man.”

“Good thing we have others to take his place, right?” Natalie gently jabbed her elbow into Clifford’s side. He couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face.

“I guess. But I’m just a professor.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You are brilliant. I think you could do something just as great or greater than old Albert F. Vinson.”

Clifford was taken aback, not by her opinion, but by how much it suddenly seemed to mean to him. “Well, we all have to have goals Natalie, no matter how futile they may be. If we aim for nothing…”

“We’ll always find it. Here we are.”

He realized they had arrived at the landing pad. Steve was standing near the open door of his transport. “Yes, here we are.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, professor. You too Steve.”She turned and started to leave.

But before she got very far Clifford shouted out, “Congratulations by the way, you plotted the closest course to Landes 4.”

“Really,” she said taking a few steps back towards Clifford. “Did I reach orbit?”

“Let’s just leave it at you were the closest.” Clifford took and over exaggerated look around and whispered, “By a long shot.”

“Wow, thanks.” Her eyes brightened when she heard the news and he noticed for the first time that they were a light blue with black flecks outlined in gold. Implants, he thought.

“Your eyes.”

“Yeah?”

“They’re blue.”

“Excellent observation, sir. Tomorrow?” she asked holding out her hand.

“Absolutely.” He grabbed it gave it a hardy shake. “Good day, Miss Klein.”

“Good day.” Natalie turned and walked back towards the University corridors. After a few moments Clifford Barrow turned and crawled into his private transport but he kept his attention on the young woman as she walked away, until the doors closed behind her.

“Where to Clifford?” Steve asked from the front seat.

“What? Oh, just the apartment.”

“Yes sir. Clifford may I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, Steve.”

“Upon review of the results from your class I find that Miss Klein did not plot the closest course to Landes 4.”

“That’s not a question Steve.”

“In fact hers was not even in the top 10.”

“Really? I guess I must have been mistaken.”

The vehicle hummed to life and lifted with ease off the landing pad and pulled out into the rain.

1. Don’t read the news, listen to any song from the sixties about the Mondays over and over in your cubicle, or pout to your coworkers. The news may seem like an easy way to remain idle, yet mildly entertained. However, we all know that everything on the news is bad news, unless you are watching Campbell Brown (my celebrity crush), then it is always good, even if the news is bad. Back to the point: reading the news when you have the Mondays will only add depression to the feelings of tiredness, unmotivation, and self-pity you already have. Additionally, a primary goal of making it through the Mondays is to not do anything that gets you killed by crazed coworkers, so the pouting and sixties songs are out for sure.
2. If you wake up and know you are going to have the Mondays, wear something you feel good in. Today I’m wearing my new orange shirt, very cheery. I’m also wearing some of my favorite socks, and ridiculously comfortable underwear. A surefire way to add to the Mondays is ugly socks and/or chafing. I used to arrive to tests freshly shaved, hair combed nice, wearing a nice button up shirt all tucked in, etc. I ate tests for breakfast, and you need to eat today for breakfast.
3. Drink lots of coffee. If you have the Mondays and get ridiculously buzzed on caffeine, it may not cure you, but everything will be a lot more fun. I’m getting buzzed right now and already this really stupid blog is starting to sound funny to me. So, stop right now, go get more coffee. Be right back.
4. Coffee cup number two, feeling much better. Piece of advice number four is to avoid shopping websites at all costs! Nothing spells credit card debt like “click to purchase” when you have the Mondays. Ebay, Amazon.com, woot.com, stay away from all of them. Now that you are getting jittery, the drive to click away at warp factor 9 is nearly irresistible. Don’t give in! Buyers remorse from a shopping spree brought on by the Mondays is no good!
5. Find something to make you laugh, but not too hard. http://www.scribd.com/doc/27936538/Larry-s-Cafe-Comics-Volume-1 The key here is to get a little outlet for those Mondays, whisk them away with some giggles, have the slow start to the week you think you need.
6. Do a task that involves movement, is easy, and tangible. This is key to breaking you out. You’ve avoided the time sucking money wasting depression inducing bad habits of the Mondays, you’ve gotten hopped up on caffeine and laughed a little to help your mood, now it is time to give the Mondays the death blow with a dose of actual productivity. This is a good time to clean out that drawer, organize those files, throw out old bananas in your office drawers (am I the only one who does that?) etcetera. It has to be a task that can be completed in about 30 minutes, doesn’t take a lot of planning or thought, but makes a physically noticeable difference in your work environment.
7. Now, get back to work! Seriously, now that you are cracked out on coffee, cheered up and feeling like you are actually accomplishing something thanks to the above project, you have cured the Mondays, but all day they will be ready to creep back in, so strike while the iron is hot and start on your work day – for real.

      From that day forward we were inseparable, except for when I needed my space. We had lunch together all the time; except when I wanted to hang out with the guys.  We would hand in hand during recess; except when I was called off on an emergency game of ‘King of the Ring’.  Frankly the biggest hurdle in our relationship was that she wanted to hang out with me all the time.

      I remember that shortly after seeing the Joe Dante classic film “Gremlins” I decided to get my hair cut into a mo-hawk.  Not a real mo-hawk or even what the hipsters call a faux-hawk, but rather some un-godly middle hawk.  The sides of my head were shaved down but not all the way, there was about a half inch of hair left. My mom wouldn’t allow it me to shave it completely. She said it made me look like a criminal.  Down the middle of my head was a strip of hair, from the back of my neck to the front of my hair line, two inches long and 3 inches wide forming a near perfect rectangle.  I looked like a Klingon and my girlfriend was pissed.

      “No boyfriend of mine will have a hair cut like that.”  Even back then I knew we were to young for that conversation.

      I wasn’t going to stand for it.  We may have been too young to be having that talk, but I was too old to be taking any lip from a girl.  So I kicked her to the curb with, “Well then I guess this guy has got his evenings free from now on.” Who the hell was I kidding? I was in bed by seven every night. But it did the job. We were finished.

      Like many relationships that end badly, the aftermath is the worst part. We kept bumping into each other throughout the rest of the day. We were forced to make pleasantries at the pencil sharpener and in the milk line, not to mention we sat next to each other. It was difficult of course; it was my first big breakup. The rest of the class wasn’t taking it too well either. We were Mrs. William’s Class’s golden couple and without our relationship the class felt just a little bit emptier.

     By playtime though, I had moved on and was already on the lookout for the next conquest. The note was written; now I just needed a name to put at the top. There were plenty of choices. All the girls in the class had seen me in a serious relationship, they knew I could go the distance. Plus they saw I was strong and would stand my ground, and we all know women are attracted to power.

      When out of nowhere Gregory handed me a note that read:  

We need to talk.   – Jessica 

      What began was classic romantic banter as we passed the note back and forth. 

Me: What do we need talk about?

Jessica: You mean.

               Who the hell did she think she was? Mean? She was the one trying to control me.

Me: You ugaly. 

               Boom! That’s how you get back a girl when you really want to hurt her. But when she saw this, her face showed a genuinely hurt expression.  What had I done?  Here I was insulting the greatest thing that had ever happened to me.  I immediately regretted it, but was it too late?  She was already writing back. 

Jessica: You r a jurk.

Me: I’m sory. Will u b mi girlfriend again? 

      She was furious when she received the note and began angrily writing down her response to my question, but then she paused and I could tell she was rereading my apology.  She turned to me and mouthed the question, “You’re sorry for calling me ugaly?”

      I nodded and mouthed back, “You are pretty.”  She smiled that really cool smile that all guys want to get from girls.  Even at eight years old, girls can still make guys feel 10 feet tall with smiles like that. 

Jessica: I’m sorry I was mad at your hare.  I think it look nice.

Me: I think you look nice. 

      At that point we ran out of paper, but no more words were needed. I had gotten a second chance.  That day at lunch we talked about all the things that had happened during our ‘break’.  It was great just talking to her again, and I told her I would never let anything come between us ever again.

      A week later I moved 600 miles away.

That being said I’m going to alter the course of my diet next week to a low if not no carb diet. In addition to this being a generally accepted aspect of weight loss there’s a bit more to my reasoning than you might suspect, but there in lies a story…

HOW I BECAME A FAT GUY

or

 (That Bastard Buffalo Chicken Pita)

Once upon a time, I was thin. I mean really thin. I’m talking you could clearly see my ribs thin. Even though I was already an active child, I didn’t eat much. For a time father would make me run laps around our yard before each meal just to work up an appetite. I was this way up into High School. But then some things happened. For starters, I had allergies and a mild case of asthma so I didn’t much take to sports. You can fake your way to a participation trophy in little league, but they’re not having it in High School.

The other was the Buffalo Chicken Pita from here on out known as the BBCP or Bastard Buffalo Chicken Pita. The story starts just before I was introduced to the BBCP; I was on vacation with my family. We went to a Paul Bunyon themed restaurant in Wisconsin and they offered all you can eat buffalo wings. Well I went to town on those and developed a taste for buffalo sauce and chicken, a match a still thing is a brilliant idea.

Some time later, my step-sister starting working at a restaurant called Colonial in Elgin Illinois and they served Buffalo Wings. So when ever I would go into visit, that would be what I ordered and, all was right with the world. But then something happened. She suggested I try something different and recommended the BBCP. It was simple, it was slices of chicken on a pita with onions, tomatoes, lettuce and Buffalo sauce. Never before that moment had I eaten a specific food for pleasure. Strange as it may sound, it is true. I may have had a piece of candy or something but the primary motivator for everything I ate was hunger. Once I met the BBCP that all changed. No longer was being hungry a prerequisite to eating. I’m not going to lie, I ate a lot of BBCP’s. Sometimes 2 a week, sometimes more.

This went on for a year and while I started putting on pounds, I figured it was a good thing, because I was so skinny to begin with, but then they took it off the menu. I remember it clearly and I’m sure my two friends who were with me do as well. I ordered one and the waitress informed me that they no longer carried it and I had a minor flip out. I’m not condoning my behavior, I’m just telling them how it is.

The biggest problem is that it came without warning, I had to quit them cold turkey; I didn’t even get a farewell Pita. So I had to find an alternative. It was not long before I stumbled onto some of the harder stuff, Pad Thai and a BBQ Beef Sandwich at a place called Dominicks. Then it was hard to stop. I moved on to All-You-Can Eat Buffets. They could have been Chinese or the one down by the casino, it didn’t matter. The point is, eating became one of my primary sources of entertainment second only to movies which usually were accompanied by soda. I drank a LOT of Pepsi.

Sugar and carbs, sugar and carbs. They’re what turned me from a skinny little weakling to a behemoth who doesn’t like to take his shirt off at the beach.

Anyway, that’s my story. I’m going to try completely removing them from my diet for awhile and see if that’s what will get me past the plateau. I need to research a bit more to find out exactly what I can and can’t eat. There is also this thing called Ketosis that I need a bit more information on. I’ll keep you posted.

So I’m switching to another technique: pushup, lots and lots of pushups; sit ups too. I’ve been eating healthy and running but I’m just not dropping weight, so I’m going to start packing it on with muscle. Perhaps I’m not intended to be lean, but rather crazy muscle guy. If that’s the case, than I’m all over it.

This means less treadmill (though I’m not removing it entirely) and more weight-lifting. It also means focusing much more on a protein rich diet. Yay for quinoa salads!

I didn’t make this one. I haven’t made a quinoa salad… yet.

And then some people are just born in AwesomeTown, they look like this:

My road to AwesomeTown was simple, I WAS BORN THIS AWESOME. So, your little journey is neat, but you and I are just in two different classes of people.

1 8oz can of Tomato Sauce
1 6oz can of Tomato Paste
1/4 cup of onion
2 tbsp of brown sugar
2 tbsp of Apple Cider Vinegar
2 tbsp of Olive Oil
3 cloves of garlic, crushed
1 tbsp of Worcestershire Sauce
1 tbsp of dry mustard
1 tbsp of Cayenne Pepper

Pour oil in pan and when heated add onions and garlic. Mix brown sugar, dry mustard and Cayenne Pepper in a bowl. Pour Apple Cider Vinegar and Worcestershire Saucer in a separate bowl with the Tomato Sauce and paste. When onions are cooked so that they are clear add dry ingredients and stir then add wet ingredients. Bring to slight boil then simmer on low for 20 minutes.

First off, the cost. I glanced briefly at how much a bottle of BBQ sauce off the shelf cost and found that $3.75 was a low end price. I know there may be bargains from time to time but trying to keep it under $4.00 was my goal. I’m not completely sure, but I think I hit it. It’s hard to gauge but the cayenne and mustard powder combined cost $1, and I know I could get 3, may be 4 uses out of what I got. As far as the vinegar and Worcestershire Sauce which combined cost $6.75 I think I could get 30 uses out of each if I saved them for BBQ sauce. The brown sugar packet cost $2.99 and again, 20-25 uses. The only things I would have to buy every time are the Tomato Paste and Sauce = $2.15. All totaled the cost of the homemade sauce was right at $3.15. Score!

While I can’t be sure about how it fully compares to a store bought sauce as far as how healthy it is, there was not High Fructose Corn Syrup anywhere in it and no gluten either so I have to assume it’s better than most.

Now the taste… I like it. It is really strong right now because I just tested it and didn’t have it with anything, so I’ll have to wait until I try it with my Sloppy Joes before I give the full report. All in all I consider it a success. It was cheaper and the prep time was under 10 minutes so it’s not like it was too difficult. In the future I’ll probably fool around with the ingredients a bit and try to make the recipe my own.

Exercise: Today I was able to run for 3 minutes at 7 miles per hour. I’m going to try to focus less on the calories and endurance for awhile. Also this weekend I’m going to go to the gym shortly after I wake up. For the past couple of days I’ve gone after working 12 hours and I’m interested to see how I do awake and fresh.

LifeStyle: I learned 3 things to day that I find quite interesting.

1. How to make a poached egg.
2. The number of pleats on the classic chef’s hat are representative of the number of variations of eggs the chef is capable of making. If I had a chef’s hat I would have 5 pleats.
3. Other than smoke, the other way to tell if the pan is too hot when you have oil in it is if it has streaks or what wine drinkers would call legs.