making men

Sometimes after Lisa and I do our early-morning 4 mile run (we treadmill in the basement fitness center if it’s under 43 degrees), I come back and lie on my bed, for just for a moment. This morning it was just as the sun broke over the horizon and a pink light crawled across my ceiling, highlighting every imperfection, like craters and mountains on some distant, barren planet. My Apple watch went chikle-inkle-lnkle. Ok, Time to start the day. Later… Leong got a new ‘Girls Life’ magazine, those always seem packed with the latest scientific info. “Studies suggest that you and your deepest friends may share the same blood types!” Leong read aloud. “I’m O-negative,” she announced, “What blood type are you?” She asked me. “Red,” I revealed (I am, after all, pre-med). “DElicious reddd,” Lisa updogged in a Bela Lugosi vampire voice. “Americans are never serious,” Leong whinged, her voice rising and falling on the last syllables. “That’s what makes us what we are today,” Lisa asserted, “a slowly, steadily, declining superpower.” “We could join the military after Yale,” I suggested helpfully, “I bet they’d make us officers.” “Oh sure, I hear the army’s making men out women these days” Lisa agreed. “Sounds messy,” I said, wincing.” . . Webster: Whinge: “to complain fretfully."