Back in the day, I took a jazz dance class or two and would come home in the evening and turn up the Pat Benatar and expect my parents to watch me do some jazz fingers or what have you. Thing is, they never looked all that enthused.
Truth be told, I wasn't either.
Some days, like today, I feel so out of it. I thought I was getting a handle on things, what with the you-knows arriving today. I thought I'd get a nice workout in this morning to kick out the kinks but it just wasn't in the cards. Seems like I was on edge, or the annoying people decided to occupy the gym in droves at 9:00 a.m. this morning without pause.
I arrived at the gym a bit earlier than usual, so I'm not really allowed to poke too much at those who arrive at that particular time, because, let's face it, I'm a 10:30-ish gal and those who do the gym-thing regularly understand that there are Gym-Waves. And each wave has a personality of its own. (Please note, I only know the following two waves. I don't get out much after noon.)
5:30 a.m. to 9:00 a.m.: Quickie nine to fiver's, mothers with husbands who have to leave the house by nine; policemen just off the beat for a quick steamer, bodybuilders who plan on a second run at, oh, 8:00 p.m or a little later, after the protein shake settles.
9:00 a.m. to 10:30-ish a.m: Step-class aficionado's--the ones who like the "old-skool" step with lots of yelling and screaming from the burly gal-teacher who really should let her hair grow. Pre-preschool mothers who drop their kids off and arrive in teams of two, sometimes three, and get a shower in later, and apply a lot of makeup before they leave, all the while talking on cell phones under signs that say "No cell phone use in the Locker Room."
(I was on the treadmill while that crowd arrived. It was like running the gauntlet.)
First, the two would-be half-marathon walkers got on the treadmills flanking me (there weren't any two together). Next, they proceeded to talk over me, mostly about "stuff," I think. I kept turning up my iPod, but I got to figuring that if my eyes were nearly on the fritz, my ears were, too, and it would be better to relocate.
My next stop: Bike. I hopped on one behind the recumbent bikes. Looked like it was all free to me, and I had a nice view of the mom's elbowing each other out of the way on the padded area where all the important ab work is accomplished.
Next thing I know--maybe a half-minute later--two gals come in and find the two recumbents in front of me. All manner of Hollywood talk gets-a-goin' and next thing I know they're pointing out their botox bruises. Heh. (Let me tell you: If I had one, I wouldn't point it out. I mean, what's up with that? At least lie and say your kid smacked you with her Barbie, or something.)
Turns out, HWWV and I got the date wrong. They arrive Tomorrow. Talk about anti-climatic.
So let's look at something that will help us all to link arms tonight. Haven't all of you experienced this, or at least known someone who has?
Ah, the Holidays. Good times, I tell you.
P.S. See this Santa? He's the same guy we encountered last year who arrived at a very boozy party and insisted on a cross breeze and a martini.