Where's BB? and Oh, Towel-boy!

We were supposed to possibly maybe meet if everything worked out tonight (it was nearly certain) with our friend, BB. When we last saw him, he was heading into the sunset (okay, the sun was full in his face because it wasn't that late) with a huge, brand new Honda Valkyrie between his knees. It's a beautiful motorcycle and this was a day just meant for riding it, so I'm not surprised we haven't heard from him.

The plan was to meet him in Eldersburg. The C Clan was heading north to check out the flagship Merritt Athletic Club. Mrs. C has been very faithful about working out with a friend at a club near work at least twice a week. Like a converting smoker, she is certain that this course of action is imperative for me as well. So, we went. Nice joint. Three pools, a huge basketball court, two raquetball courts, dance and martial arts studios, and a plethora of devices that will help men and women at the onset of middle age re-discover muscles that are probably best left dormant.

Yeah. We're joining. Pookums wants to play some roundball. Mrs. C wants to humiliate me on the racquetball court. I just want to swim. Stroke, stroke, (kicking) stroke, stroke, gasp, breathe. What's that I hear? That's right. Absolutely nothing. Stroke, stroke, (kicking) stroke, stroke, gasp, breathe. Wet bliss.