The treats they brought back were un-refusable. Ali had seen the message before Jan deleted it and tipped me off. Bouchon is one of the best bakeries around and so I surrendered my resistance and prepared for whatever they brought back to share. This would be a rare treat.

Jeff divided and plated the first four items evenly into five portions, but one blueberry muffin piece fell and was lost. Not everyone agreed that the rule for things touching the floor is zero seconds, maybe particularly so for delicately crumbed blueberry muffins. There was no disagreement about it once it had entered the trash can. No matter, there was tasting to taste and so we all proceeded to the back patio table and into the perfect September 1st evening.

The question, as always, is the order in which to proceed. Plate One was the easier of the two. Obviously it is croissant to pane chocolate then blueberry muffin and finally the Oh-Oh. One could argue for swapping the last two, but it’s hard to know ahead of time when you are only estimating the flavor profiles. I don’t regret my choices, but I should have considered harder if I wanted to finish with the blueberry muffin. It had a bit of lemon.

The next pieces were cut into four, not five, and divided at the table al fresco. Jeff again did the cutting while the rest of us closely monitored the situation. Ordering the second plate posed a much harder challenge. Peach chiffon cupcake, cinnamon roll, Kouign-Amann, Better Nutter. Well, it’s an order but I’m not sure it’s the rightest one. My theory was that lightest to heaviest, in taste, and I’m not even sure if I followed that. In hindsight, cinnamon roll, chiffon cupcake, Better Nutter, Kouign-Amann would have been a better choice. Or maybe the chiffon first again. Nothing to be done about it now, and honestly I have no regrets with these choices either.

Ten out of ten, would do it again. But not for a couple of months, I hope. I’ve got goals for the gainz and my first lifterversary is coming up.

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The lat pulldown machine is the only machine in the gym with a one pound increment, and the only machine with a seat belt. The only machine with a foot pedal. It’s a strange machine. Many machines in the gym have adjustments and this one adjusts the seat up and down so that it hinges where I hinge at the shoulder; the pulldown motion concentric with my arm’s motion. The bar comes down from above to my middle.

Start with arms above my head, hands resting gently on the bar, weight pressing into the backs of my elbows. And then push forward and down. It’s easy. The feeling of cycling the machine is different from any of the other machines. Repeat. The weight hasn’t changed, yet it gets harder. Controlled arms on the return, slow the weight’s fall. It gets more challenging. Soon, after a few repetitions, I can barely get the bar down to my middle, even with a grunt, a heave, and a lean. Which is kinda cheating. At least it’s bad form. Yet I press on, and strain for all my reps, or at least until the fatigue point and I can’t move the bar no matter how hard I will it.

The vinyl seat and industrial paneling that covers the machine’s frame recall both the idea of an institutional facility, a dentist’s office, and the idea of an amusement park ride. To ride this ride I put on the lap belt, adjust the seat, and pull down the bar to my waist. Over and over until the attendant tells me to stop. They might change the settings a bit, to make it harder if it was too easy, or make it easier if it was too hard. And then I repeat, maybe ten times, or maybe fifty. Sometimes I get to ride it three or four times, and sometimes twice is all that’s needed. And then I’m done. I put my foot on the pedal, lift the bar over my head, and unbuckle the belt. Step out and move on to the next ride.

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