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Less is More

I believe that was Gertrude Stein's advice to young Ernie Hemmingway. I'm finding parts of A Farewell to Arms better than I expected (the calm, journalistic wince-inducing descriptions of wounds and surgery) approach to , but parts of it (especially the dialogue, and all the "do you love me, darling?" "I'll do anything for you if you're a good boy, I'm your good girl" blather that he has Cathy say ) just insipid.

But I come not to speak of literature. I come to ponder if Gertrude wasn't speaking of the physical (as opposed to literary) exercise that came out of the same WWI era as she and her beloved Alice B.

I've been to a couple of beginners' Pilates classes the past few days and left each of them feeling like I really hadn't done a workout. I dismissed it as yoga for thinkers, where imagining the movements is every bit important as physicalizing them. A reworking of Feldenkrais classes that I took back in the theeayter days.

I am nearly crippled today. Okay, I exaggerate. But in all seriousness, my shoulder blades, hamstrings, glutes and obliques are more than a little tender. I guess that's what they meant by engaging the powerhouse.

Powerouch is more like it.

I can't wait for the intermediate class.

And as we say farewell to Mr Hemmingway's Arms, perhaps the swimming and Pilates will help us say hello to some new definition in Uncle Bob's arms.

Two months till we hit the beach. Stay tuned.