I love it when people respond to things I write. Partly because that means someone is reading the things I write, and partly because sometimes it gets me candy.
My favorite piece of mail this week came from my friend Miranda, who, in response to a post I wrote, sent me the package in the photo. There was also a book inside of things to do before you turn 30. Many of them I've already done ("write a complaint letter" was one), but there are some I haven't. Perhaps I'll give a few a try before October 19.
After I finish my candy.
I've really been enjoying my new gym.
I've had two sessions now with my personal trainer, Megan, who makes me work but ensures my ability to walk the next day. And I'm loving the pool. I've been swimming more times in the last two weeks than in the last seven years. I'm actually sorry I didn't switch gyms a long time ago.
What I was most excited about was that my new gym holds classes in separate rooms with doors, so that no matter what kind of yelling is going on, you can't hear it on the main floor. Unfortunately, I forgot about what might happen if I actually take a class.
Last night, I took an hour-long cycling class. I'd done the same one (but with a different instructor) last week and left sweaty, hungry and exhausted, so I was looking forward to another great workout last night. It's a good thing I went in so determined.
At the front of the class were three ladies who obviously knew each other and the instructor, at least from class. They bantered with each other, and it was entertaining for a minute, but about five seconds into the warm-up, it got ugly. Ugly and loud.
That's right, they began shrieking.
I thought The Shrieking Machine of my old gym was bad, but here there were three of them, plus the instructor! She would say something, and they would shriek in response. It was as if the instructor was Diana Ross and these three were her Supremes. Except instead of singing delightful Motown tunes, these three were just screaming. They weren't even saying words. I kind of wanted to get up and leave, but I would have felt self-conscious so I rode it out, literally.
Throughout the class, I got used to the shrieking. And to their credit, these ladies at least howled with the beat of the music. But I still don't understand the point. That class was tough; it took a lot of energy to do some of the stuff she was having us do, and all that yelling had to have taken up quite a bit of energy too, not to mention breath.
So I guess I won't let myself be deterred just yet. I got a great workout, so I think I'll continue taking the class. And who knows...maybe someday, I'll learn to accept the shrieking.
Or, I'll just switch to a class where the students are a little more reserved.
Until recently, I had a blog with a list of 30 things I intended to do before I reached age 30 and entries about what I did to complete those goals. I deleted the blog when I realized two things. One, I'm probably not going to get them all done by my birthday, which is October 19. And two, I really don't care.
I'm a little disappointed that I didn't finish what I started, but the truth is, there weren't that many things on the list that I really, truly wanted to do. Many of them were just there because I needed 30 things and couldn't think of anything good to add to the list (which I only spent a week or so compiling). That said, I did learn a few things while I worked on ticking off the tasks I cared enough about to complete, or attempt to complete.
1. Donating to charities really does feel good, and what you give comes back to you in the way of address labels and solicitations for more money.
2. It's harder to come up with self-indulgent things to do than you would think.
3. Scrambled eggs with stuff in them is just as good as a well-made omelet.
4. The Montoursville Area School District failed me by not putting "The Catcher In The Rye" on its list of required literature. I should have read that book years ago.
5. The gym is NOT the place to work on learning the words to "Baby Got Back," particularly when your gym is full of ladies who pack much back.
6. There are things I care about a lot more than the things I used to care about, and there are things I want much more than the things I used to want.
That last one makes me feel like maybe I'm not such a failure at having abandoned my project and deleted the blog. I started the whole thing because I wanted to get myself ready for was to be the grown-up stage of my life -- the Summer, if you will. What I found out was that I'm already there. Some of the things I wanted to do were things I cared about a long time ago, but not now, and attempting to fulfill them made me feel like I was regressing, not moving forward.
So now, in the last not-quite-two-months before I turn 30, I plan to complete only the tasks I care enough about to remember what they are. For example, I fully intend to travel to the top of the Sears Tower, and I intend to (brag that I will) perform "Baby Got Back" while at the top (and completely chickening out once I'm up there).
And I WILL make it to Wisconsin. I had a dream last night that I actually got there. I was driving, but I'd missed my exit or something and had to turn around, but first, I decided to stop for fuel. I saw a gas station up ahead and, as I was getting ready to pull into the entrance, noticed a sign welcoming me to Wisconsin. I filled up my tank and congratulated myself on accidentally driving into the Badger State. Somewhere, I even picked up (well, stole from the side of the road, but I can admit it, because this was a dream and not real life) a gigantic three-dimensional Wisconsin-shaped road sign, which I intended to use as a mold for my 30th birthday cake.
Side note: I am thinking a Wisconsin-shaped birthday cake might actually be a fantastic idea, firstly because I've been talking for six years about traveling there, despite everyone I know telling me it's "only OK," and also because I would, in effect, be eating the dairy state to celebrate completing the year in which I stopped eating dairy. That kind of irony is usually only found in great works of literature or on Three's Company.
So I guess it has been a good year for learning life lessons. I am tinkering with the idea of making a 40 Things To Do Before I'm 40 list. With 10 years to complete the tasks, I'll be able to list things that are a little deeper than learning to cook something new or memorizing offensive novelty rap songs. Then again, I wonder if the things I would list today would still resonate with me in two, five, nine years. Still, I like the idea of having a long-term project and a milestone birthday as the day to launch it. So I guess the one big thing left for me to do before I turn 30 is something that wasn't even on my list before -- come up with a new project that I care enough about to complete.
1. Colgate Total -- I have long sung the praises of this fantastic toothpaste that not only makes my mouth feel clean but keeps it feeling clean until the next time I eat. I once wrote a letter to the company telling them how much I liked it (I write nice consumer letters too, you know). I was kind of hoping they'd send me some free toothpaste, but they didn't.
2. Tofutti products -- The company's founder, David Mintz, initially started working with tofu as a way to keep kosher, but the fruits of his labor have long benefited the lactose intolerant as well. All of the Tofutti products I've had have been pretty good, close enough to the real thing that in a few years I probably won't remember what the real thing tastes like anymore.
3. Pantene spray conditioner -- For years, I searched in vain for a product that made my hair soft and shiny. I asked a coworker, whose wife had lovely hair, if he knew what she used, and he told me about this product. Since then, even with my worst haircuts and dye jobs, I've had silky locks with a fabulous shine.
4. Mentos -- I don't think I've ever actually had Mentos, but I would like to do one of those commercials where I'm in a tough situation, pop a Mentos and quickly solve the problem, afterward turning to the camera with a triumphant smile.
5. Lion Brand Homespun Yarn -- It's a nice yarn, and since Vanna White has her own yarn, maybe it's time for other yarns to have spokespeople.
It didn't hit me until the other night when I was leaving the gym and thought I caught a glimpse of Didn't-Bother-To-Brush-Her-Hair-But-Did-Take-
The-Time-To-Put-On-Tights-Yes, Tights Lady (turned out it wasn't her though) that I realized that the members of my new gym all seem pretty normal.
Sure, there are a couple of guys who wear Speedos in the pool, but they actually seem like athletic swimmer types.
Crap. I wonder if this means I'm going to be the one people make fun of at this gym. Guess I'd better go get myself some tights.
While perusing the Internet this morning looking for useless information, I came upon this tidbit: Johnny Depp and Tim Burton are rumored to have teamed up for a movie based on the 1960s TV show Dark Shadows. In the movie, set (well, rumored) for release in 2010, Depp will play the smooth yet deadly vampire Barnabas Collins.
I couldn't be more excited about this. It's about time Dark Shadows came back for another go-round, and Johnny Depp will make a great Barnabas. I just hope they keep the campy quality of the original show. They could do something about the costumes, though; some of the stuff people wore looked like someone's home economics project.
Ow.
Earlier this week, my husband and I joined a gym. We've both belonged to separate gyms for years now, but since my gym was a bare bones women only facility and his had so few machines that he always had to wait for one, we decided to join a gym together that had everything we wanted.
With our membership, we each are entitled to one free session with a personal trainer, and yesterday, I went in for mine. After a brief question-and-answer period (When was the last time you had the ideal body you wanted? As if to say I ever did!) and a body fat analysis, we got to work. The trainer decided to start with my legs and threw me right into doing lunges while lifting weights over my head. From there, we moved on to squats, then squats with a bar, then to leg presses.
Side note: The trainer's name is Buddy. What a laugh that is.
When we sat down to discuss further training, I wasn't sure I would be able to get up. For the rest of yesterday, every time I had to stand up, sit down or go up or down stairs, I had to hold onto something. I went to get a manicure and almost fell out of the chair when I sat down. (In my defense, the chair was on wheels, and the floor was tile.) And today, I can't take a step without feeling like someone has removed all the muscles from my legs and replaced them with tree bark. I try to stay in one position as long as possible; if I'm standing, I stay standing, and if I'm sitting I don't get up till I know there's somewhere to go.
The truth is, I really do need the help. I'm not obese; I'm not unhealthy, but my body fat is higher than it should be, and besides, someday, I'd like to be able to have an answer for that ideal body question besides "infancy." But isn't exercise supposed to feel good? I hope that at some point it does, because my birthday is coming up, and it would really suck if, when people ask what I want, I'd have to say "one of those high toilet seats."
It's a good thing I'm not really a customer service superhero, because the tabloids would be having a field day right now.
Yesterday, I was out shopping on my lunch hour and decided to buy a shirt. When the clerk rang it up, the price was about seven dollars more than the sale price I'd seen listed on the rack. That happens fairly often in this store, but the clerks never you give you a hard time when you bring it up, so I mentioned the price difference to him and he re-rang it at the lower price.
Today, I went back to the same store and, just for the heck of it, cruised by the rack where the shirt I bought was displayed and checked the price. It turns out, I was the one who had been wrong. The more expensive price had been correct; I must have been looking at the wrong sign or the wrong listed price.
The shirt was kind of overpriced even at what I paid, but I still felt bad. I guess if I felt bad enough, I would return the shirt, get what I paid back, then re-buy the same shirt at the more expensive price, but that would be a little excessive, I think. But I had to clear my shopping karma somehow, so I bought another shirt, this one also overpriced, and paid what it was actually supposed to cost.
My friend Miranda was telling me last week that she reads this blog often and started watching Dirty Sexy Money because I mentioned here that I was interested in watching it.
So I just wanted to take this opportunity to say hi to my good friend Miranda and also to point out that I've also been thinking of mailing me some candy, like an extra large bag of Starbursts.
I love it when people respond to things I write. Partly because that means someone is reading the things I write, and partly because sometimes it gets me candy.
