Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

I hover around the pull-up bar. It's the best pull-up bar in the weightroom for people under 6' tall without solid leaping skills. I fit in that demographic and so do many other shorter, less springy folk. We all keep glancing over our shoulder waiting for our chance to move in on the equipment. A guy wearing blue seventies-style nylon shorts rushes in for a turn before I can cut him off. He does a couple of pull ups and then squats down right below the bar, placing his hands underneath his feet. He straightens his legs, hoisting his ass skyward in some sort of advanced leg stretch maneuver. After a few minutes, he performs a hop and more pull-ups. Followed by another round of leg stretching. And some pull-ups. I monitor his activity wondering what the fuck limber hamstrings have to do with pull-ups. I realize that I will need to ask to work in with this guy because this could go on for hours. I also realize that if I do ask to work in with him, I will have no choice but

Lots of manly men at a meeting at Personal Capital. Photo credit:  www.personalcapital.com I signed up for an account with Personal Capital (https://www.personalcapital.com). It's a half cool financial app similar to Mint.com, but with more investment tracking. Basically, Personal Capital offers many chart and graph opportunities, which I enjoy. Here's the timeline of this endeavor. Please note how many sentences start with "I." They start with "I" because I perpetrated the action, all by myself, like the Lone Ranger. I sign up for Personal Capital using my name, my home phone number (which coincidentally happens to be Tom's home phone number) and my email address I enter our investment accounts into the Personal Capital app. Most of the accounts I enter are the ones in my name, because they are the ones I know the passwords for. I also enter some joint accounts that are in both my name and Tom's name. I can't remember Tom's pa