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Scott
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Happy St. Paddy's Day!   I spent the morning making Irish Oatmeal Lace cookies and chocolate cupcakes with a poor attempt at 4 leaf clovers on top (they look more like Leprechaun snot).  The Irish Whiskey souffles are now frozen and waiting for baking before we bring them over to the families for dinner, and I think they're be great.
 
The ballet last night was excellent.  Two hours with the RWB, the WSO, and the Opera Workshop Ensemble can't really be bad.  We sat closer to the stage then I think we ever have before (2nd row) and it was a really interesting perspective because you can really see the acting on the dancers' faces.  I think we've pretty much watched the ballet from every angle possible now (1st balcony, 2nd balcony, louge, floor) and I've concluded that there are no really bad seats in the house, only occasionally bad neighbours.  The neighbours last night weren't bad except for the ones beside us arriving and entering late, and making a commotion during it.  I remember a time when staff guarded the entrances and wouldn't let someone in late - oh for the good old days.  Nothing a discreet kick to the shins while your neighbour climbs over you into their seat can't solve. Um, I mean I flinched uncontrollably.
 
So I just finished my daily strength training routine and although it went well I couldn't help but think that I don't look quite as good as last night's dancers (and I use the word "quite" liberally).  I've run into a couple of people who have suggested the ballet isn't 'manly' enough for them (by which I assume they mean you can't bring beer with you to your seat and no fights break out on stage) to which I say this in response: I guarantee you that any of those dancers (men or women) could kick the crap out of you and make it look like art while they were doing it. 
 
I also went on a quick bike ride this morning pretty much sprinting the whole time for about 45 minutes.  I was in kind of a crummy mood (which the lingering sarcasm above can attest to) and sometimes it helps to try to blow the engine.  Um, the engine is indeed blown, but I feel a little better because of it.
 
Speaking of engines, I fell asleep on the couch last night watching qualifying laps of the Australian F1 Grand Prix and learned the following: the F1 cars redline at 19,000 rpm's (they could go higher but rules restrict them from doing so) there are about 500 staff on an F1 team, and annual budgets are in the hundreds of millions of dollars.  Sheesh.  It makes pro cycling look just silly. (Actually, these days pro cycling looks silly all on its own, but that's another conversation).
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