As if a vigorous workout every other day isn’t challenge enough, this week I had to endure my first business lunch since starting the Get Fit program. I passed with flying colors.

I had been looking forward to trying the climbing wall at Life Time Fitness—but not with the cameras rolling and the entire Internet watching as I flailed away with hands and feet.

Is it true what they say about “no pain, no gain”? If so, I gained plenty at our boot-camp session.

While I’ve tried working out and losing weight before, I’ve never had the discipline to count calories or time my workouts. Get Fit NJ is forcing me to do both.

I’ve survived the first two “Get Fit” sessions. Only 70 to go. We’re practically home free.

Starting this afternoon, I will be taking part in Get Fit New Jersey, a rigorous, 24-week fitness program at Life Time Athletic in Florham Park. Naturally, I spent the weekend stuffing my face with as much holiday chocolate and other goodies as possible.

As a longtime resident of Montclair, I still have to pinch myself each time I see a show at the Wellmont, the gorgeously renovated theater that is bringing so much great music — like last night’s show by Ray Davies — into my hometown.

Saying goodbye is never easy. Bidding adieu to my lawnmower this morning was particularly poignant.

Sometimes it pays to heed your own advice. Such was the case on Sunday when I followed a recommendation in the current New Jersey Monthly and took a day trip to Paterson Falls.

Back in the 1960s, my father was forever putting off the decision to buy our first color TV. He wanted to wait until they got it right. Perhaps I should have followed the same strategy with the Beatles.

We're thrilled that the world's top golfers are playing at Liberty National this weekend. But will someone please remind them they are in New Jersey—and not that other state across the Hudson?

It is an editor's worst nightmare: The big glaring typo on the front page. You never expect it to happen, but there it is, all-too real, smack on the cover of the September issue of New Jersey Monthly.

I had to work last weekend, but don’t cry for me. The assignment was a magazine conference in New Orleans.

I finally made it up to the new ballpark in the Bronx this weekend. Naturally, my seats were in the front row. OK, front row of the bleachers, but front row, just the same.

The organizers of the New Jersey Hall of Fame have an annual challenge: How do you build excitement into an induction ceremony when most of the honorees are dead?

It's one of the toughest assignments I've ever had: deciding on a color scheme for my 14-year-old daughter's room. In theory, the choice was hers, and that's what made it so difficult.

One of the lost pleasures in this modern world is the opportunity to work on your own car.

It's been about 30 years since I had my last moving violation, so how was it that I came home Friday night to learn that my driver's license had been suspended?

It's great that everyone's making such a fuss about Ticketmaster's handling of ticket sales for the upcoming Bruce Springsteen shows in the Meadowlands. Still, there's one key question no one seems to be asking.

It was 11:35 Thursday morning when the train pulled out of Newark's Penn Station. It was 11:55 when I was offered my first Bloody Mary.

When I first learned I’d be going on the Walk to Washington, I figured: “Oh boy, time to get new shoes.”

Yesterday's handoff from George Bush to Barack Obama was really something to see. But it was an earlier George who deserves credit for drawing up the play.

I'm one of those lucky folks who remember their dreams in the morning. Last night's was a doozy.

Did this really happen? Did I really get my first holiday greeting card in the mail yesterday?

What better way to start a blog about suburban life than to talk about my lawnmower?

It was not my intent to go to the final home game at Yankee Stadium. But in the end, I couldn’t resist.

I woke my teenage daughter at 6:10 am Wednesday to watch the sun as it inched its way above the horizon off Bay Head. Such moments down the shore are too precious to sleep through.

At about 3:30 Sunday afternoon, Bruce Springsteen fans across New Jersey were digging out their rain ponchos as fierce thunderstorms smashed down on the Garden State. But by the time Bruce took the stage at Giants Stadium that evening, the rain had ceased and a cool breeze prevailed. Even the weather gods know who’s the boss.

Time is running out. There are just 20-something regular season games remaining at Yankee Stadium. Yes, the big ball yard is two rivers away from New Jersey, but the Yanks always have had deep roots in the Garden State.

We skipped Montclair’s Independence Day Parade this year for the first time since our kids were infants. But there was one July 4th ritual I would not pass up: Our annual parent-daughter softball game.