Still Here

Haven't posted in like, forever. I think I have Seasonal Affective Disorder, or at lease Snow Sucks Syndrome. This is one of the worst winters on record for snowfall in our area, and I've had it. Our local prognosticator, Woodstock Willie, is predicting an early spring. I'm making a pair of mittens out of that rodent if he's wrong!!

The weather is keeping me from the health club and just making me even more depressed and cranky than usual. That's really saying something! So, sorry for the spotty posting. I need to make a February Resolution here - a little writing every day. Also, a little stretching, too. This all ties into the whole health club thing that started back in September. Let me tell you all about it...

I really liked my old health club. It was right behind my place of employment, so the location couldn't be beat. I have such fond memories of my three years there.

...The way I could see my Corvette when we had water aerobics classes in the outdoor pool.

...The drunk old man who kept swimming even though there were signs posted everywhere about how there was no open swim during water aerobic class times, and how the staff had to eject him time and time again...

...The young girl who wore the really low hip-hugger workout pants with the red thong showing while using the stair-stepper. I'm sure that was just an unplanned accident. Perhaps I should have alerted the poor thing to the stares she was getting from the male weightlifters. She had no idea...

...My encounter with the Best Customer Service Ever. I was upset when I renewed my membership and they didn't give me a new ID card. I told this to a young girl (whose employment lasted all of three weeks at the club, and I also heard she was fired from her previous job as well, but boy would I like her to get a job with Maytag for a month) who agreed I didn't look like that crappy picture any more. She pulled out a big pair of scissors and cut the card up. She said I should tell the next clerk it was lost by the desk at my last visit and that I should be issued a new one. It worked!! Now that's service with a smirk.

Anyhoo... this club closed and broke my heart. It was like losing a close friend. Maybe it was over lawsuits incurred over Scissor Girl's tenure. At any rate, I had to find a new club.

I checked out quite a few and settled on a community recreation center. I took this option as they offer classes, not just a place to go and lift weights or run on a treadmill. I need the motivation and camaraderie a group workout offers. (Yeah, anti-social me. Go figure.)

Now there's just one itty-bitty problem. Ok, HUGE problem. Four words: OPEN TO THE PUBLIC. Anybody willing to wave $40 a month around can come in. This means families. This means kids. This means my child allergies and general riff-raff aversions are in hyper-overdrive.

Just the other day I'm on the treadmill when this short, roly-poly dude with black-plastic rimmed glasses strolls in. He picks one of the recumbent bikes. Now I'm not stupid. I've sat on these machines. They have some bikes with the 'Schwinn' type old fashioned bicycle seats. These are for the people who take spinning classes and are Lance Armstrong wannabes. The ones with the little seat backs are for sitting down and watching the TV sets while trying to convince yourself you are working out. I know. I did it just the week previous! I watched CNN debate the election, Rachel Ray make an ice cream desert and an old episode of Friends. Whew! What a workout.

I digress... So this dude in the green T and blue sweats (coordinated by mommie that morning, I'm sure) sits down and gets ready to read his book. Now there is no way I can miss the title of his book. A) I'm 'hiking' over his shoulder and B) The title is in 42 pt. black font on a yellow cover. The name? Dungeons and Dragons for Dummies.

I. Could. Not. Make. This. Up.

So I go into the locker room to change. Fat Slob mom and pudgy teen girls are messing around with the scale. Mom is muttering how she's never been this heavy before and is sure the scale is wrong. She has the little indicator bar way at the top of the metal square enclosure. This 'needle' is supposed to be in the middle of the bracket to let you know you have the right weight. Hers is clanging against the top while she insists the Doctor's Office told her as long as it's not touching, it's accurate. So she's got it way up top to get that perceived quarter pound less of weight or something. So next thing I see is one of the girls putting a 10 lb. barbell on the scale and checking to see if it registers ten pounds.

Yep. Open to the Public. My favorite phrase.