A Fascination With Health, Work, and Magnum

As the wildflowers bloom here in Texas, transforming this most unholy of states from cold, windy, rainy, and dreary into a happy palette of vibrant purples, fiery oranges, and mesmerizing yellows (before again moving into the hot summer dreariness...), so has the annual spring-cleaning of my mind and body. I highly recommend it.

It began over Spring Break, while house-sitting (and dog-sitting the awesomeness that is Bear the Dog). My commute to school went right by the gym. Why not, I thought? And it's been good. After a few weeks, I've lost a purported 10 lbs. (people may disagree whether I needed to lose it, so let's call it a "transformation"... but thank you people for the compliment that I look fit as a fiddle. You obviously haven't seen me in a few years!) And that rolled into a manic cleaning of the house. The whole thing. And a much-needed full-on cleaning of the bedroom and re-ordering of the clothes. It felt great. I felt fresh! But there was more! I sewed a button on a shirt! (I fully realize how infantile that sounds, but think about it. When exactly was the last time - especially you guys - sewed anything?) I was rising to the challenge of a spring make-over. Started eating right. Got the grill going almost every night (though some may point out that grilling i.e. drinking beer while grilling isn't truly "healthy"). Continued running at the gym. Continued to feel good about myself.

Then I found out that my brother, the Good Doctor Carr, is at least six months ahead of me in this kick. Since college, he's always been slighter than me (read: I ate lots of coconut cream pies...) but he's downright wirey now! Supposedly, he weighs about 20 lbs. below me right now. So that was 30 lbs. last month! The bastard! And he has 3 kids all under the age of 2 (well, the girls just turned two...), a loving, active wife, and what appears to be a demanding job as a surgeon. The wirey bastard! So now my goal is to get to a fitness level where I can keep up with his 6:15 miles. And to think I was once miles faster than he was...

And to top off all this lust for life and pursuit of perfect older brother, I, thanks to Ian of St. Croix, renewed my vows with what should be the greatest tv show of the 1980s. No, not Cosby (though that's good). Cosby spanned into the 1990s, so he doesn't count. No, I'm defending "Magnum, P.I." A lot of guys my age and a little older grew up idolizing his life style. Hot women, fridges full of beer, a hot Ferrari that he didn't own (so didn't mind wrecking), a cool black friend with a helicopter, and a cool white friend who probably was a pimp (though this portion of Rick's back-story was never really pursued fully...). So, in this time of renewal, this springtime of hope and the full embrace of all I am and love and want, I've grown a mustache. And his theme song is my ring tone.

Thomas Magnum would be proud. And though my brother laughed so hard that he fell off a hotel bed when he saw my 'stache on Skype a few days ago, I know he's jealous. He watched and idolized Magnum too. And though he could beat me in a 10k right now by probably a full half-mile or more (wirey bastard!), I could sense his 'stache envy. I got the Hawaiian shirts, the fridge full of beer, the cool black friend, the pimp white friend, and a hottie in a bikini sitting on a beach waiting for me to solve some sordid case that invariably leads me back to my days in Da Nang. Now all I need is that Ferrari...

--goose

April Shout-outs: St. Croix, I'm coming home! See you in a week!