There's something about being the only woman in the iron-pumping section of the gym that both enthralls and infuriates me.

I had a few sequential thoughts about it: Sausage fest. .... Uggghhn, lift arm. ..... Why is that dude watching the veins pop in my forehead? Has he never seen a woman working out?  Is my level of red sexy? .... Where are all the women?...  Cursory glance around shows women are, in deed, still at this gym; however, they are all on machines.  Men are also on some machines.  The ratio of women to men is higher on the cardio machines.  This makes me wonder:  why do women focus more on cardio than muscle-building?  When women are lifting weights, why do they mostly use machines?  Is it lack of knowledge of technique (I admit, I don't expect everyone to know how to do an Arnold shoulder press)?  If men did not dominate the free-weight section, would women still stay out of it?  I've never been to a "Curves" gym.  I wonder what the dispersal of people looks like there.

Otherwise, the gym work out was pretty good last night.  I admit, I'm a wimp and I haven't been pushing myself with the weights.  We primarily worked with dumbbells and I upped the weight last night.  In the past, I've stuck with tens and fifteens as my "heavy".  If you've picked up anything about my physique from reading this thing, you should know that I am a (not) lean, (occasionally) mean, fighting machine.  But I am pretty beefy, dammit, and I should be able to do more than some damn fifteens.  So I did most of the workouts with twenties.  Except the wide flies on the bench - those were just twelves and they hurt, hurt, hurt.  I tried to do some bicep curls with a thirty and I couldn't manage it.  Next time, I'll try 25s.

And I am sore.

Sore feels good.

More bits of rando:

• BO can't put on a blanket to save her life.  Okay, let me rephrase that: she can't buckle the chest piece of a blanket to save a life.  I don't get it.  A piece of Velcro and two buckles.  Instead of having the two sides of the Velcro meet, the entire front is gaping open and the buckles are only partially shoved through the keepers.  I should have taken a picture of it, but I was too busy taking pictures of us:

• I brought in my pieces for the art show (which, in this light, I can tell the glass needs to be cleaned).  I've had two people ask if the frog picture was an iPad.  Shit you not.  Is that a compliment to my picture or to Apple?  And are we so entranced by technology that we no longer recognize "art"?

• Bought this "new" shake at the grocery store the other night.  It's supposed to be frozen and D put it in the pantry.  I stuck it back in the freezer and am going to eat it today.  If I'm dead tomorrow, this is why (unless I get hit by a bus or something, then it absolutely has nothing to do with this drink).

• Savannah ate another pair of shoes.  I've been lax about Operation Please Stop Destroying My Crap because she's got an injury on one of her pads and I don't want her running.  I did nag D about leaving leather around.

• Achilles is the spawn of Satan.

• My tattooer shared a compilation of my half-sleeve on Instagram and I swooned.  (Btw, I'm "bekaburke" on Instagram.  I'm looking for people to stalk!) (Oh, and the final "likes" came to 23!)