I Told Y'all This Would Happen

I drug myself out of rehab--the kind you go to for sports injuries--and back down Wade Hampton Boulevard yesterday and reported for torture. The Queen of Pain was AWOL, and in her place was Jenny. Y'all remember a while back I told you about Jenny-the-cutest-little-thing?

I knew it was only a matter of time before sweet Jenny morphed into alien Jenny. She has all the right equipment--she's beautiful, skinny, and can dance like a maniac for an hour without breaking a sweat. And, of course, she was trained by the QOP herself.

Alien Jenny is the closest thing to a Casey-clone that we'll likely ever see. She put a hurting on me that the QOP would have been proud of. I was into the blue (the section of the exertion chart that's not actually a part of the chart, but the top border) by song number two. The thing about Jenny is that, while definitely an alien, she's still sweet. The sweetness oozes out of her while she's killing you--it's bizarre, actually. It's like she's Casey before somebody gave her the intravenous sarcasm--which, by the way is one of the things I like best about Casey--I don't mean that ugly. She makes me laugh. And trust me, when you are being bent, folded and mutilated by Casey, you need something to laugh about.

Yesterday, as I was sweating like a Charleston roofer in August, hair all in my eyes, mouth hanging open, face squinched in agony as Jenny pushed me toward a cardiac episode, she smiled serenely, looked out across the class and said, "You look awesome!"I can only guess the rest of them must have looked better than me. I still don't know how she said it with a straight face with me right there on the front row.

Hmmm... Maybe...maybe sweet Jenny isn't as sweet as she looks. Maybe she's just as sarcastic as Casey, but sneaky about it. You know, like those women whose mouths won't melt butter when they say, "How niiiiice," but you know what they really mean is something no Southern lady would ever say out loud.

She bears watching, our Jenny. She may be a new breed of alien.

I've gotten two classes in this week...I'm doing better. Maybe in the morning I'll drop in on the caring and nurturing one. If I'm out of traction.

Peace, out...


It's Whining Time Again

Y'all knew I'd only make it to Jazzercise one day last week, right? I mean, it was my first week back, and there's nothing that will wreck your exercise program faster than over-doing the first week. Besides, I pulled something in my left leg last Monday, and did the sensible thing and let it heal.

So, in return, this Monday, the Queen of Pain pulled all my muscles, just to let me know she cares. A while back, I posted a list of the top 10 things you DO NOT want to hear a Jazzercise instructor say. I'd like to add # 11... "You ready for something new?"

This inquiry is normally delivered with an angelic smile and a sarcastic tone. It is code for, "You think that hurts? Try this..." Today it preceded the twenty-fifth time we did inner-thigh work in Casey's set. Inner thighs and glutes... those were the muscles d'jour. We're getting ready for short season--the most painful time of year. Colder climates look appealing to me right now. Places where they never wear shorts, like, I don't know...maybe Antarctica.

I was already in pain before I got to the car--a new record. Usually, it takes at least the drive home for the hurting to commence. By the time I drug myself out of the car and into the condo, I was walking like I'd gone bull riding, and been thrown and trampled. I have hitches in my get-along that will not go away. I've had a hot shower, aspirin and bio-freeze--the icy-hot stuff the chiropractor gave Jim when he hurt his back. I sprayed on half a bottle and it didn't help a bit. I'm considering drinking the stuff

I'm going to look for the Tylenol. You can take that on top of aspirin, right?

Peace, out...


Street Walking Ain't What It's Cracked Up to Be

Many moons ago, I started this blog--in theory--as a way to hold myself accountable for things I should be doing, but didn't always get around to. Like exercise, eating right, staying on my writing schedule and living right. Lately it seems like I'm doing everything except those things, ergo, no blogs.

My intentions were good, as intentions often are. When I resigned my spot on the front row at Jazzercise, I told Myra (the caring and nurturing one) and Casey (the Queen of Pain) that I lived too far away now ( 20 minutes down Wade Hampton Boulevard!), and would be taking exercise along the streets of beautiful downtown Greenville. I was going to become a Street Walker.

I envisioned getting up each morning to the sounds of an awakening small city, donning one of my newly-purchased, chic, walking outfits, and power-walking past the shops, cheerily waving at shopkeepers as they opened for business. On my way back to my West End condo, I would stop by Starbucks, order a Venti Nonfat Mocha, and read the New York Times. Then, batteries fully charged, I would go home and words would pour out of me into the computer. It was an artsy vision.

Reality is that I haven't bought those chic walking outfits, because I refuse to buy clothes a size larger, and I've expanded my horizons. When we first moved in, the morning temperatures were literally freezing, and the wind howled down Main Street. Most shops don't open until ten, so the only folks to wave at were the ones opening the bakery-cafe type establishments that harbored forbidden treats. And along with that Venti Nonfat Mocha, Starbucks was pushing scones, muffins, and lemon pound cake. Also, the hilly nature of our Main Street (not as noticeable when you drive down it) gave me shin splints. And walking, unlike Jazzercise, is lonely. Words have not gushed into my computer.

On Monday, I hauled my sorry, expanded derriere down Wade Hampton Boulevard and reenlisted. Not much has changed...the classes are a little more crowded (it's spring--bathing suit season looms), and the Queen of Pain, courtesy of her 22-week, completely unnoticeable-unless-you-know pregnancy has graduated to her very first C-cup.

She's still an alien. But I sure was happy to see her...and Wendy, Connie, Betty, Sarina, Allison and all the other familiar faces.

I should be dancing.

Peace, out...


New Year's Revolution

Okay, yes, I know I haven't posted on this blog since November 1. But I have many, many reasons. Not excuses...reasons. Here are the top ten:

10. I was kidnapped by aliens--not the beautiful-but-flat-chested, Jazzercising kind, but honest to dog aliens--and their Internet does not support inter-planetary communication.
9. One of my multiple personalities, Starla, was in charge, and she refuses to use a computer because she believes that they emit radiation that causes a vitamin K deficiency, wrinkles, and the impulse to ballet dance down Main Street wearing a hat with fruit and combat fatigues, while twirling fire batons and singing Hello Dolly.
8. I've been on a Top Secret mission for Homeland Security.
7. My dog ate my laptop.
6. I've spent every spare moment exercising.
5. I've eaten so little that I was too light-headed to type.
4. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years and multiple family birthdays in rapid succession.
3. We finally sold our house, and downsized to a condo 1/3 the size and it is quite time consuming to rid yourself of 2/3 of your belongings, but you can only fit so much stuff into 1,400 square feet.
2. I'm in a funk because of the move I thought I wanted to a downtown condo, walking distance to everything, including all my favorite restaurants and the Starbucks where Renee Zellweger was hanging out until The Greenville News chased her off--and the hotel where George Clooney is staying during location filming for Leatherheads. Not that I'm a star-stalker--I mean, I'm sure they're very nice people, but honestly, I get no thrill out of close encounters with celeberties.
1. I'm this year's chairperson for the South Carolina Writers Workshop Conference, and while this is a volunteer position, it is taking more of my time than any fulltime job I have ever had in my entire life--not that I'm complaining--au contraire--most days it's a blast.

Okay, those last four were for real.