- Spontaneous visits! My mom finally retired from her bookkeeping job and then realized that she was now free to travel on a whim. She arrived with one week's notice (surprise!), then declared that she hadn't seen Mimosa in almost two years and we needed to go to New York City. So, okay, Mom, let's . . . drop everything and drive to New York! Which we did. It was lovely to have her here but also wearing; she is getting older and more frail by the minute (she refused to shower at my house because she was too afraid to step over the edge of my bathtub; this drove me BONKERS), and my patience does not seem to be increasing with age. But we laughed a lot, and it was great to see my little girl, of course.
- Continuing education! I started my "Broadway Bound Show Choir!" class, and while it's fun, it's not exactly what I thought it would be. I'd pictured a bunch of folks sitting around singing lots and lots of show tunes and having a grand time. Instead, we're singing one song, working and working on it till it's as close to perfect as possible, and learning choreography for it. Oh my! The song is "All That Jazz." Maybe, maybe, if we're very good we'll learn a second song, probably "Edelweiss." (Though I laughed out loud, imagining the choreography for "Edelweiss." "Will we do ballet?" I asked. "Probably just a lot of swaying," said Flynnie, our choreographer.) The class is taught by my kids' middle school music teacher, Mr. C, and that's fun. But, as I say, not what I expected.
|What I dream we look like|
|What we probably look like|
(We've only met once. I had high hopes that we would all work hard offstage, nail the song and dance, and quickly get to learn the second song, just for a little variety. But the class meets again tomorrow night, and have I once practiced either the song or the dance? Ha, no. Because . . . )
- . . . editing work out the wazoo! After finishing a huge job for a new client last week, I am now juggling four huge jobs for two old clients, all of which must be done this week. I finished one yesterday, am two-thirds done with another, and the remaining two are still ahead. I am sitting A LOT.
- Zumba! But no other exercise, because I've been so busy, which is ridiculous — one zumba class is not going to get me back in shape. After I finish this post and finish my coffee, I'm going to take a long walk and then lift weights and work my core and sweat like a yoked team of oxen — yes, so much sweat I need more than one ox to describe it! It will feel good. I also need to hit up Writer Jenny, who's promised to teach me how to hula hoop, her new favorite workout. I have never successfully hula-ed a hoop in my life, but Writer Jenny is the most determined person I know, I have faith.
- Oh! Zumba is . . . okay enough. I still hate the music and I still have not learned the routines, especially the last ones, when I'm tireder. The teacher has this hugely annoying habit of stopping before each song to review some moves, but she's talking over the blaring music and I can't hear a word; I'm like, Just freaking DO IT and we will follow you! Let's keep moving, for God's sake! I am a big zumba grump.
- Making music! I am back to handbell-ringing on the advice of my sage pal Dawn of the Bookshop, and I have to say: It is not exactly like riding a bike. I did it a couple of years ago and loved it, and remember myself being fairly good at it. but sister, I was younger then with a flexier brain. I am now a slow and slightly impaired bell ringer, it takes LOTS of repeat practice before I "get" it. Fortunately, other ringers are also semi-impaired, I'm not the Class Dullard, so that is something. (Last week, Bell Boss said, "Are there any sections you especially want to practice?" and the girl next to me said, "Yeah, every time I have to ring a bell!") Maybe we're playing harder music this year, I dunno. Or maybe my formerly spongey brain is drying up, since I can't learn zumba routines either. That's probably it.
Good lord, writing all of this was exhausting! And there are eight more things on my to-do list that I didn't even note here, but enough already.
My weight is high. Not my all-time highest, but higher than it was pre-surgery. I don't understand this. Surely I'm moving around more than I did then! It is so discouraging.
OK, coffee is gone; time to squeeze into some compression clothing and hit the Bike Path.