Hittin' the Piedmont trail.

I've started taking long walks around my neighborhood to keep myself in fighting trim (what I'm fighting for is debateable, but it's the walking that's important). And these aren't casual walks, mind you. These are brisk walks. And when I say "brisk," I don't mean super-gay jog-walking, I mean a good, normal, fast walk.

But it's not even that easy. While I'm admiring the scenery of million dollar homes I'll never afford, I'm also navigating the rough, uneven sidewalks of Piedmont. Y'see, the area may have it's richie-rich parts, but it's been around a while so the sidewalks and streets can be a little rough. And did I mention the 75-degree incline hills? I'm just glad I don't have to push boulders up these neighborhood mountains.

I saw a lady pushing a baby carriage up one of the hills today and all I could think of was hoping that her baby wasn't too heavy and that she doesn't lose control or I'd have to chase a carriage down a hill in slow motion -- like that staircase scene in The Untouchables, only without bullets flying everywhere and Andy Garcia sliding in with the last minute save.

That's about right.

I made a call the other day to a girl I'd dated a couple of times.

"Hey, Cute Betty, did you want to maybe catch Corpse Bride sometime next week?"

"...um. That would be cool, but I live in Philadelphia now."

"--you didn't answer the question."

I really need to stay on top of these things.