Life, Part Deux

I watched Andre Agassi's first-round U.S. Open match on TV last night and I was mesmerised all over again. But this time there was a little something extra. Because I'm going to New York for the tournament over Labor Day weekend and the prospect of watching Federer and Navratilova, but especially Agassi, in the flesh is giving me a severe case of goosebumps. Razvan Sabau must be wondering what he did to deserve a first-round match against Agassi. Usually the underdog (rightly) receives crowd support during a match, but playing much-loved Andre at his twentieth straight U.S. Open, Sabau didn't even have that to keep him going. Poor guy.

In other news, I started work nearly eight weeks ago and I have to say, I'm quite liking it so far. Like the work, the people (especially the folks at training - LS, CW, JM, MP, RS, YZ: you guys are the best!) and the money. Love my new place, the neighbourhood (what's not to love about living right on the cusp of Old Town, River North and the Gold Coast?) and the view.

Highly recommend "My Architect" - a bastard son's documentary of, I'm told by someone who knows about these things (and who sort of rekindled the blogger in me), the greatest and most influential architect of the twentieth century. (Sort of like the Jimi Hendrix or the Led Zeppelin of buildings, I suppose.)

Finally got on my bike this past weekend and I'm so horribly out of shape it's not funny. Old ladies on penny-farthings were zooming past me, I was out of breath within five minutes and exhausted after a mere twenty-five miles, and my back, neck and butt were aching something awful. So what did I do? Well, I got back on the damn thing and rode another twenty-five miles the following day. And this time, while I was still being passed by seven- and seventy-year-olds, at least my body didn't complain quite so stridently. Which gives me some glimmer of hope for the metric century BLT in two weeks that I, in a moment of supreme arrogance, signed up for a few weeks ago.

And on a more solemn note... a heartfelt goodbye to Marsha. I didn't spend that much time with you, but I don't think I needed to. To a free-spirited, brave and loyal companion I say - Godspeed and happy hunting.