Every Tuesday and Thursday I go and do step aerobics at the Washtenaw County Recreation Center. The classes are from 7:05 AM to 8:15 AM. I figure if I do aerobics first thing in the morning, as opposed to the afternoon, I won’t dread it all day long.

However, doing aerobics isn’t a problem for me. I get up on my own at 6:40 AM, all refreshed and happy. I brush my teeth, quickly throw on my sweatpants and shirt, kiss my wife while she gently sleeps (without disturbing the cats), and head out the door. I make it to class with plenty of time to spare, workout easily, barely break into a sweat, and go home to shower.

Wait, no, that was one of my dreams.

What really happens is I stay up late the night before because I have a hard time sleeping (probably from the Tinnitus). The alarm goes off to NPR’s Morning Edition, where news about the latest war, political scandal, or why giant pumpkins are considered evil by the moral majority invade my dreams. I crack a bleary eye open and drag my sorry ass out of bed.

Elaine is still asleep. Arbeau is still asleep. Pythag usually raises his head, looks at me thinking, “Are you nuts?” and then settles back down to sleep.

I love Pythagoras.

My hair is a cross between Tom Baker’s and Yahoo Serious. I tie it back, usually while dislocating my thumb, brush my teeth quickly, throw on my sweats, and run downstairs to the car because I’m late.

Then I run back upstairs because I forgot my keys and my wallet. See? I start warming up early.

Traffic isn’t bad, though, and I can get there in about 6.3 minutes. I have enough time to set up before JoAnn, the aerobics instructor, starts the class.

She is great. If you can take a class with her, do so. She has a wonderful sense of humor, and she does know how to motivate the class, which is impressive that early in the morning.

She also remembers everyone’s name, which is impressive at 6 PM after five cups of coffee, let alone that early in the morning.

Once during a routine where our backs were turned, we faced forward again and found her sitting on her bench wolfing down a chocolate doughnut. As revenge, a few weeks later, we all collapsed around half way through and fell asleep.

I do like the class, even though it wipes me out (like it is supposed to!). My endurance is up, but I do wonder why it still wipes me out like it does. Nevertheless, I am glad I can do the routines, because even being able to walk straight would be impressive that early in the morning.

Remind me not to join the Army.

When I first started, there was only one other guy there. Sometimes he wouldn’t make it, so I would be the token male. We would do this entire cardio workout, plus weights, and some of these women, who are half my size, 95 years old, and have given birth to ten children, are able to consistently out perform me in class.

I love aerobics.

Now there are a total of six men at class, so I don’t feel so alone. Of course, I have the most hair of all the men, but really, I’m a secure guy.

Last night I set my alarm, but forgot to turn it on. That means I could have slept through the class and perhaps even have woken up refreshed and happy. But, Pythag loves me, and decided to wake me up, demanding attention with loud meowing and using my chest as a scratching post. At 6:40 AM.

When I complained about the situation, Elaine responded by mumbling in her sleep, “Pythag is such a good boy.”

I let her sleep and I pet my cats, which was, I felt, a very impressive thing for me to do that early in the morning.

My wife just doesn’t understand.

I’ve been doing it all for her. I tell her that time and time again, but she doesn’t believe me.

I put in lots of hours, usually past midnight, doing this for her. Sometimes I forget to eat. Sometimes I forget to go to the bathroom. Almost every day I struggle for her.

Pythagoras comes by and wants to play or snuggle, and while I pet him I still work for my wife. Making my wife happy is more important than playing with Pythag. Little Arbeau will sit on my lap while I’m doing this, but my thoughts are always with Elaine, my lovely wife.

I do it all for her, but she doesn’t understand or care.

Sure, I’ve slaughtered thousands, maybe millions. But with very rare exceptions, I did not start the fight. They attacked me! I was just defending myself.

The rare times I did attack, well, that was for my wife too. I didn’t have any coal. Without coal, I can’t build railroads for my wife. My defenses would crumble. Our world would go into disorder, and there would be strife and chaos.

She just laughs it off. “You aren’t doing it for me!” But I am, I am.

I research the latest technologies. I build cities and wonders of the world. I train soldiers, and send them off on missions that will cause death.

I do this because I love my wife, and want her to be happy. I have conquered multiple worlds for her, and will continue to do so. Sure, she says that taking her to dinner would make her happy, not my conquests. But I know what she really wants.

Last night when I dragged my bleary-eyed self into bed, I told my wife that I had finally defeated the Persians. She acted unimpressed, but I know she loves me for it, because she gave me a hug. And it had nothing to do with me also telling her that I emptied the dishwasher.

I’ve been playing Civilization III since it came out. While I like many aspects of Alpha Centauri more, I still am playing Civ III for my wife. All those hours. All the pain and strategizing. All the planning. I could stop playing, I supposed, but … the expansion is coming out Friday, which means there are eight more civilizations out there who will be threatening my wife.

The battle continues. I will always protect my wife.

(I’ll also be buying Age of Mythology, which also comes out on Friday. But that I’ll be playing for myself!!)

I had pondered a lot about what my first web log entry would be. Would I talk about my wonderful wife, Elaine? My cats, Pythagoras and Arbeau? My work? My home? My family? My still red hernia scar?

Of course, none of my planning mattered, as my very first entry, my rocket into internet space, consisted of a test message.

With me replying to myself.

I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me – I respond to myself in emails all the time. I even argue with myself while brushing my teeth. No shockers there.

And this, my second web log (or, ‘blog’ for those of you younger than 15), is consisting of me rambling on about what a waste my first blog message was. I can feel everyone’s browser starting to go to cnn out of sheer boredom.

Well, I will do my best to entertain people. I guess what I should do is answer the question: “Chuck, why the heck are you starting your own blog? Don’t you have anything better to do, like rub your wife’s back?”

I’m not sure why I’m doing this (and yes, sweetheart, I’ll rub your back during Buffy tonight). There have been times, when I’ve read Patrick’s site, or Shawn’s site, that I’ve wanted to write my own full messages.

I have my own stories. My life is about to change in a very big way in two and a half months, and I have no idea how this new child will affect me, or my relationship with Elaine.

I would like to have some sort of journal to record that adventure.

I would like to have a place where I can jot down my feelings, dreams, failures, and thoughts.

I would like to have a place to point to when my son asks, “Daddy, why am I so screwed up?”

I can’t be too terribly personal on here. Most of my friends might end up reading this. My family is sure to find it. Heck, my boss or a future employer will stumble across this one day (and for the record, let me state right now in an honest, unbiased, and hoping that it will get me a big raise soon way, that Cybernet is the BEST place to work in the world!!

So I do hope that I don’t use this forum to yell at others that I know, or complain every day. I make no guarantees though. Heck, I don’t even know if I’ll update this every day. But I’ll try!

I also have plans to update the main page. I know what picture I want there, and I’d like to put up a few pages for Elaine, and eventually for the baby (well, a place for the grandparents to go to for pictures, at any rate).

And now, for a public service announcement. Elaine found a great site www.publius.org, where you enter your street address and out pops the exact ballot you’ll see on election day. There are also links to the candidates on that ballot. I can now be an informed voter!!

This is a test. This is only a test. Had this been an actual log entry, you would have been amazed with my wit and spelling.