Real danseurs don’t wear underpants

For all my dislike of the Christmas season, there are two things about this time of year that I simply love. One is the music. And no, I’m not talking about that trashy pop shit they play on whatever station calls itself “Mix” in your area. I don’t mean the incessant crappy mall noise that lasts from the day after Halloween until three days past New Year’s either. I mean Christmas carols, “Hark The Herald Angels Sing” “The Carol of the Bells” and “Good King Wenceslas”, preferably sung by a full choir a capella or with classical accompaniment.

I like Handel’s The Messaiah as performed by nearly any church, and I enjoy everything put out by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.… Read the rest

Pain yes, gain no

So I’ve been doing this workout thing, going to the gym six days a week and doing some other form of exercise on the seventh, even if it’s just walking. I hate walking. At the gym, I hit the cardio and weight machines like I know what I’m doing, and I take a class pretty much every weekday. I’ve joined a women’s wellness group where we encourage each other in our goals, and where we don’t have to set our sights on a specific level of weight loss. Personally, I’m measuring my progress in clothing sizes, and I refuse to step on a scale, but I seem to be making progress.… Read the rest

Talking To Myself Again

I talk to myself. Most of us do. But me, I answer back, argue, and have entire animated conversations, usually at a mutter, that can’t be disguised as cell phone calls. If you’re ever in an intense debate with me, or Godhelpyou an argument, my lips will be moving the entire time, even when you’re speaking, giving the alarming impression that I already knew what you were going to say.  (I didn’t. I was just working out my own response while you said it.)

Lately, all my internal dialogues have been about aerobics. Those classes make me self conscious, especially the “dance party” atrocities, where the instructors act like we’re at boot camp.  … Read the rest