Bobbing in time

This past Saturday I went to my first AquaBox class at the gym. Here's how it went...

I arrived about 7 minutes before the class was to begin. As I walked past the pool to my locker, I noticed about a half dozen buoyant ladies gently bobbing up and down in the pool. "Whoa, I'm late...," I thought as I scurried to throw my clothes in the locker and get out to the pool. I grabbed my new aqua shoes (black with pink trim and a zipper closure, very chic) and went inside the pool area.

"Are you coming to class today?" asked a bobbing lady. She was very smiley, and as I looked around, I noticed that most of the ladies looked very good-natured, if not what might be considered 'in shape'. Several of them were wearing shower caps and a couple had those swim caps that buckle under your chin. I believe that I may have been the youngest in the pool by a good 35 or 40 years or so. "I am!" I replied. "Is it hard?" "Oh, no!" said the bobbing lady, "It's much easier than on land." (This actually made me a little apprehensive because I really did want a good workout and I was VERY hopeful that this would be a good class because the meeting time worked out so well with my schedule during the year).

I hopped in the pool by the stairs, which was about 3' deep. The bobbing ladies were already spaced evenly in 2 rows, and I could tell they were exactly where they wanted to be, so I squished in by the steps. Behind me, the pool gently sloped down to a total of 5'. Before we started, I noticed a nice older lady right behind me with white hair and very red eyes. I can only assume her eyes were that red because she kept going below the surface of the water at regular intervals, seeing as she was approximately 4'5", and the water was 4'4". I suggested we switch places since I was taller, but she assured me that no, thank you, she was fine. Okey-doke.

So the music starts and we begin. And really, it literally is kickboxing under water. Contrary to what the nice bobbing lady told me, if you're doing it right, IT'S REALLY HARD!!! So as I continued to struggle against the water, I began to laugh a little bit here and there because I couldn't believe HOW HARD THIS WAS! One by one the bobbing ladies would turn toward me and laugh a little bit themselves. "Don't worry, dear, it gets easier," one of them said. Thank god!

I was getting into a good groove, really giving the water a serious thrashing, when I felt a little tap on my shoulder. There was the little white-haired lady looking a little panic-stricken. "Excuse me," she gasped, spitting out a little bit of pool water, "would you mind if we traded places now?" Good grief! "No, please!"

After the class ended, I got out of the pool and started to head toward the locker when I noticed that almost the entire class moved directly from the pool to the huge whirlpool tub. I thought that looked pretty good, so I hopped in, too. "Wow," I said to no one in particular, "that was pretty tough!" Mm-hmm, murmured the now-still ladies. They tilted their shower cap-clad heads back and closed their eyes, and I relaxed a little bit more, perfectly happy to be exactly where I was.

Congratulations, fspaflutist! You've won!

These are Franco Sarto boots. They have a leather foot and a suede upper. They are beautiful, in my opinion, and I won them yesterday on eBay for $19.99. It's true. (This is a fabulous price, by the way, for people who may not know... Mom... :)


I love eBay. But I would not classify myself as a casual shopper. I always go in with a specific item in mind, and when I find it, which I almost always have, it is such a gratifying experience. Here is a catalogue of my prizes from eBay.

• Eugene Goossens' Four Sketches for flute, violin, and piano (score and parts). This was my first purchase and it had all of the elements that made it a classic eBay victory. It was the only item of its kind available (indeed, this piece is out of print), I was pitted against another bidder, and the auction ended at midnight. I put in my initial bid and then two minutes later ran back to the computer to enter my highest bid, just in case the other person outbid me. For 2 days I watched as the other bidder would tentatively raise their bid only to be instantly outbid by me (automatically done by the computer) "Ha, ha, ha" I would laugh to myself as I tapped my fingers together. But then, the other bidder disappeared altogether. "Perhaps I scared her off!" I thought triumphantly. I started to develop paranoia, though, "where did she go? Is she waiting, silently, in the wings to try and pounce at the last minute?" My eyes, red from staring suspiciously at the computer screen, were tired and ached for sleep. And then, 3 minutes before the auction ended at midnight, there she was with another bid, only this time it was much higher. My heart started beating faster -- I really wanted this music -- and I typed in my bid. Shoot, typed it in wrong -- delete, delete -- entered it in again, press submit, YES! made it! Midnight, auction over and the music was mine!
• A pair of REALLY fantastic jeans that retail for well over $100 in exactly the size and style I wanted for $38.
• A second magical swimsuit (because this find was just too good to only own 1) for $9
• And now, these fabulous boots which I needed because I literally walked my old ones to death in Paris. What a romantic way to die. If you're a boot.... ah, Paris...

I've thought about trying to sell things on eBay, like my friend who even has her own store, but I think that's a little more than I can do. For now, I'll just stick to finding fabulous treasures that I can't live without.

A few of my favorite things

Here's a picture of my wonderful husband, taken almost 6 years ago exactly on our honeymoon in Maine.

After 6 years, I am still learning things about him... Here are some of my favorite things. :)

• I had no idea (neither of us did, actually) that Jeff really has curly hair. And by curly, I mean curls that women would die for (we know this because women, often complete strangers, tell him this frequently).

• That Jeff has a serious talent for cooking. I once read somewhere that in order to be a great cook, one must be generous of spirit. That's so true. To take the time that he does to make everything to the best of his ability without cutting corners and without trying to find an easier, but not quite as good, way of doing things takes a person who truly wants to give to others.

• My husband is a kick-ass jazz saxophonist. I knew he had an undergraduate degree in jazz studies, but when we met during our masters degrees, he was strictly about classical saxophone. I never heard a single note of jazz from him until...hmm... 4 or 5 years after we were married. And then, he practiced his butt off and now sounds so good. I'm so impressed. To me, he is a rock star.

A new form of exercise sweeping China

Perhaps I'll try this for exercise... hee,hee,hee. Just kidding, Mom.

Next time I'll try carrot sticks

Don't eat Taco Bell before kickboxing class.

That's probably the best advice I have ever given on any topic, ever. About 1 hour and 25 minutes ago, I had a very different blog entry shaping up in my head.... (cue the wavy lines and tinkly music...)

Flashback
Wow! This kickboxing class is great! This is really fun. I'm so glad I joined this gym! I can't believe how it's all coming back to me after 7 years! I'm doing pretty good! And there are a couple girls my age -- maybe we'll strike up a chat after class....

(more serious kickboxing moves involving 'the mountain climber,' a move only a masochist would enjoy)

Oh... I'm not feeling so well... I wish I hadn't eaten those $.79 nachos from Taco Bell... ughhh...

"COME ON ladies! Kick those legs!"

Oh my god, I think I'm going to puke... (quickly exiting the class to head to the bathroom where my premonition indeed becomes reality, 4 times in a row)

Well. I feel much better now. Won't make that mistake again.

"Oh! You're back! Good. You ran off kind of quickly..."

So, there you have it. I've joined a gym. I really like it. And now I'm the pukey girl. Perhaps not the most auspicious beginning, but there's always the next class.

Just one of those perfect days

This past weekend Jeff and I met up with my parents and little brother at Greenfield Village (a living history place). It was a ton of fun. There was a stilt race (I won), lunch at the Eagle Tavern, street-fair food (including a giant turkey leg), and some rain. Then we saw Dark Knight on IMAX. GREAT DAY!

It's hard to beat Michigan in the summertime...

After several pictures of a gross bug skeleton, I thought something pretty would be nice. Here's a picture of our backyard taken from my beautiful new desk in our fantastic newly redone office (pictures of that to come later).

It's just a lovely, lovely evening.

Waldo strikes again -or- The Meanest Husband in the World

I don't think my heart can continue to take these shocks.

My make-up drawer this morning....

MF seeks MF to become BFF

I've been browsing the personals on craigslist and I feel kind of strange doing it.

Here are two that caught my eye:

"Looking for tennis partner. Moderate skill level."

and

"I'm a young married woman looking for girls in their mid-20s to hang out with evenings."

Why am I looking at the personals? Here's the problem: I have no friends. Well, at least I have no friends that live within a 5 or 10 minute drive. Or heck, even a 50 minute drive. (Yes, of course, I have Jeff and he is the greatest friend I could have, but I'm talking girlfriends here)

Those two ads caught my eye because I'm looking for a tennis partner of moderate skill level and I'm looking for girls to hang out with that are young and fun. But, I'm a little reluctant. And a little bit shy and a little bit wary and a little bit chicken...

Here are some facts about living in Flint:
1. We have a beautiful house that we feel lucky to have every single day.
2. We enjoy our jobs.
3. There is no one my age that lives here. I'm not kidding.

I don't know. It feels a little desperate to answer an ad; besides, you never know what you're going to get. (I answered an ad once for a roommate in college and that turned out disastrously...)

Earlier this year, one of the girls in my top flute quartet told me "You're just as nerdy as my chemistry teacher!" My reply: "Really? Is she my age? We could probably be friends."

Recently I asked one of my adult students who's in her mid-40s about how I could meet people my age in the area. She suggested I have a kid and join a playgroup. Um, no.

It was so easy in grad school to find people of like interests and who shared similar ideas about what constituted a good time. The hard part was finding the time to actually hang out. Ah, those were the good ol' days.

So maybe I'll keep looking at the ads and who knows, I might answer one. After all, it's only tennis.

Where's Waldo?

My discovery upon getting home from work this afternoon...

Jeff has started walking around our house randomly chortling to himself as he walks by.

I'm sure he thinks he's hilarious.

Thick-Skinned

My husband is a nerd.

This is a picture of our freezer. With a present for me.

Yesterday I saw what appeared to be a giant bug clinging to our outdoor steps, which I pointed out to Jeff. Rather than being grossed out like me, shockingly, he picked it up! He pointed out the tiny hole where whatever kind of insect this is (a locust? a cicada?) had crawled out, leaving behind this shell...or skin...or body armor. It was a real Discovery Channel sort of moment. A moment my mother would enjoy having. I just thought it was gross.

And then, rather than disposing of it promptly, he took it inside! When asked about his intentions, he replied that he was going to save it and scare me with it. How nice.

So today, I go to the freezer to get my lunch, and there is the creature.

See, a total nerd.

Nailed

So after being inspired by my friend Kathleen's post on her amazing do-it-herself kitchen remodel, I thought, I'm going to replace those light switch covers in our bedroom! And I'm going to get some nails and hang up that mirror above our dresser!

So I headed out, happily listening to the Retro Lunch, to the neighborhood Home Depot. I decided to look for the nails first. Now, all my life I have only seen nails that have come in those small see-through boxes with the bend-back lids. There are about 50 or so nails in a package. That's what I was after. I find the aisle marked "nails". Perfect.

Did you know that there are 346 varieties of nails that come in quantities of 1000? Hmm.

Okay, okay. No problem. I can read. Let's see... construction nails? No... Drywall nails?... No, we have plaster walls... Common nails? Maybe! Okay. 4" smooth, qty. 1,000,000. No.

Perhaps I'll look for the light switch covers.

I found them without too much trouble, although it really makes no sense that they would make covers in brass color, but wouldn't make those little dimmer knobs in brass. Doesn't that just make sense??? Come on, light switch cover people!

Okay. Back to the nails. Me wandering around the nail aisle... enter helpful Home Depot guy.

Helpful Home Depot Guy (H.H.D.G.): Can I help you ma'am?

Me: Yes! Do you sell ordinary nails?

H.H.D.G.: Ordinary nails?...

Me: Yes! You know, the kind that you would use to hang a picture or something?

H.H.D.G.: (looking at the 346 varieties of nails in front of us) Well... I bet that one of these would work for you. Let's see, do you have drywall?

Me: (looking doubtfully at the 346 varieties of nails) No, plaster...

H.H.D.G.: Okay, I'll just call someone from hardware to check what nails will work on plaster.

2nd H.H.D.G.: (coming around the corner) Hi, ma'am.

Me: Hi!

H.H.D.G. She's looking for a nail to hang a picture.

Me: Yes, and I only need, you know, a couple. Not a million.

2nd H.H.D.G.: Well, do you want a wall anchor or toggle bolt?

Me: (starting to make hammering motions in the air, hammering into my imaginary plaster, not drywall, wall) No, just an ordinary nail to hammer into the wall so I can hang my picture.

2nd H.H.D.G.: Well, do you want a nail or a brad?

Me: (laughing out loud now) I think just a nail. An ordinary nail. Do you have those?

2nd H.H.D.G.: (walking a little ways down the aisle) Well, we have these... (gesturing disdainfully toward a small area of shelf full of small see-through boxes with the bend-back lids)

Me: Yay! Perfect!

And so ends my foray into home improvement for the day...

Lightness

I love the internet.

The other day I confirmed as a friend on Facebook an ex-boyfriend who caused me great pain in the past. It was just a matter of time, really. I had starting becoming friends with mutual friends and you know how Facebook lists "Jessica and Person X from her past are now friends," well, a couple days later in came this request.

I accepted. I admit, I was curious how he was doing 8 years later. (8 years after making me feel like the size of an ant...)

I saw he was engaged and it looked like life was going well for him. I sent him a post saying congratulations, glad to see things are going well.

The same day, he sent me a message telling me how excited he was about his fiance and upcoming wedding, and that life was good.

And then...,

He apologized.

It was amazing. The simple acknowledgement that he had hurt me, and he was sorry. I felt a weight that I didn't know I still had lift.

You know, you meet people and more frequently than not, they disappear from your life. And how you knew them is how they stay in your mind. I mean, I feel like I've changed quite a bit over the last 8 years, but whenever I thought of this person, all I would feel is the pain and embarrassment that I felt back then.

It seems that this person has changed, too.

Painted!

Before:


After:




Tired... time to drink wine and watch a movie. Have a good night!

Getting ready!

We're about to paint! I hope to update you from a freshly painted (went with Contemplation in a last minute change at the store) office!

Memories of the 4th

There are some 4th of Julys that stick out in my memory.

The first one I am recalling today was when my family and I lived in Colorado, so that would have put me somewhere between the ages of 6th grade to my senior year of high school. I don't remember exactly where this memory occurred, and truth be told, I might be combining a church picnic with the 4th of July...

There was a park nearby the community recreation center that had a baseball diamond, basketball courts, a largish gazebo with picnic tables, and a big slanty hill good for spreading a blanket out to watch the fireworks. I remember being with my family and laughing at the collective 'oohs' and 'aahs' of the crowd...

The next one that sticks out was in Michigan when my family lived there -- that would have been when I was in college and grad school. There was a really large park with a beautiful lake that has a great bike trail all around it. On this holiday, we brought our grill and found a spot with a terrific view of the lake and stayed for many hours. The problem with the 4th of July is that there is a definite 'end' to the festivities. People can arrive at their leisure, but when the last of the fireworks drifts out of the sky, people are ready to go...which means a parking nightmare...which means my dad getting so angry at the backup...

Another Michigan memory at Greenfield Village with one of the Army bands and the DSO performing... so many people on the large green...happily walking back to my family with an ice cold Lynchburg Lemonade with the strains of a Sousa march in the air...

Jeff and my first apartment the first summer we lived there, also in Michigan, with a couple friends. Great BBQ and excellent firework viewing from our small balcony in downtown Lansing. That apartment was 640 square feet of good memories...

It's funny how memories can remain, even when nothing especially notable happened. Just nice times with family and friends in the middle of summer.

34D

As some of you know, I've been on a quest for a swimsuit to wear for when we go up North to hang out with friends. It's been a daunting task to say the least.

The problem areas:

• I have boobs and they're not small (a fact that's given me grief my whole life...)
• A tummy that is decidedly not flat
• I don't like to show my butt
  

So I go into several local fitting rooms armed with several swimsuit combinations. I grab some tops that are the same size t-shirt that I would wear. I put them on and how does the saying go?... my cup runneth over?... yes, that's about right. So I put on a size that's larger -- it's just a number, who cares? Well, somewhere between cave women and Victoria, they figured out that a string tied around one's neck (even if it is a substantial halter) will not satisfactorily lift in any sort of meaningful way.

After muttering "Are you f#@(%& kidding me?" in the middle of the Target dressing room, the dressing room attendant suggested I look elsewhere.

Another day, another store...
Aha! Maybe I'll try the compression method! I grab some tops off the shelf that are called sport suits -- they say something about surf boarding. Now, I've never been surf boarding, but I would think those ladies would want everything securely in place as they are flipping around the ocean. So I go in the dressing room and squeeze in to the top. Good so far! Everything is firm up top, feeling comfortable, oh wait... what is that at the bottom? I think this must be in the laws of physics somewhere, but what one squeezes up here, is going to have to come out somewhere, like the bottom of the top in this instance. Not pretty...

Back out on the floor... searching, searching... what's this? A top with my exact bra size stamped right on the tag and what are these? Underwires! The choirs of heaven sang and a light shone down upon me, right there in the middle of Meijer. I took the suit (grabbed it and ran would be a better description) to the dressing room. Oh my god! It didn't suck. Everything was in place, and it was longish, so it covered my tummy and it came with a swim skirt to cover my butt.

The gods have made a perfect swimsuit and left it for me at my local grocery store. Thank you, swimsuit gods.

Retro... really???

I've noticed a disturbing trend lately...

Frequently I find myself driving to work around the lunch hour and will sometimes listen to the radio instead of NPR. I don't usually enjoy much of the music that's currently on the radio, but it seems that during the lunch hour, they play music that I like, that I can sing along with. Yesterday as I was driving to work, the DJ came on and said "You're listening to the retro lunch on CK-105."

I almost crashed into the car in front of me. Since when did my favorite songs (read "I") become retro?!! And why wasn't I informed? What is the magic age of retro-ness?

Also yesterday I was talking to my dear sweet sister, who is in her early 20s. She was telling me how she and her boyfriend were watching old episodes of Friends on DVD. When Friends was on the air, she was a lot younger and always thought "wow, they're so cool! I can't wait until I'm older!" Apparently my sister had an epiphany yesterday while watching and thought "wow... Jess is way older than them" and then TOLD me that while we were chatting.

One final anecdote on this disturbing line... I was watching Wimbledon recently (you know, trying to pick up a few tips now that we're playing tennis) and Federer and some guy who wasn't Federer were playing. The announcers were discussing how this man came to tennis later in life (9 years old) and how at 32 this was his first Wimbledon.

My thought: "Wow, he's old."

Beating Inertia

Well, it's official. After one full year of living in our new house, we're finally tackling the office. We held off all this time due to one simple fact: we didn't want to do anymore painting. After painting our living room, dining room, and master bedroom, we just kind of decided a break sounded like a good idea. The decision not to paint, though, started this chain reaction of events that resulted in an area that was pretty horrible.

Jeff and I both have TONS of music that we keep organized in a legal-sized 4-drawer filing cabinet that, when filled, weighs, well... a ton. When we moved, we had to transfer the music to boxes in order to lift the cabinet. We decided we would wait to fill the cabinet until we picked its final location in the new office. We haven't picked that location because first we needed to paint, which would require moving the filing cabinet a couple more times. So, whenever we needed to find music, it would be pulled out of the boxes to be sorted through with whatever was not required ending up on the floor... lots and lots and lots and lots of music... and envelopes and random pieces of paper and shopping bags and dust and you get the gist...

Adults shouldn't have rooms that looked like ours. It's pretty sad when my 15-year-old brother got great delight in running upstairs to peek into the room only to run back to my mother to tell her that our room was way worse than his...

So yesterday we cleaned it up. And today I picked a paint color. Well, I'm still trying to decide between two Behr paint colors: Skyline Steel (a bluish gray) and Prelude (a darker bluish gray). Then we're planning on getting this desk from IKEA:
and perhaps this orchid:

In any case, it feels much better to have this project started, even if it did take a year.