Getting Old

In this blog I will present the supporting evidence of my latest hypothesis, which is I'm getting old.  Allow me to present exhibit A, incurring an injury while performing a seemingly harmless activity.  For example, I was doing handstands with my nephews up against a wall.  The next day I had what felt like a rotator cuff injury.  It hurt to raise my arm and change the radio station in the car.  To add insult to injury, literally, my nephews remained unfazed by previous day's contortionism.  The idea of getting injured probably never even occurred to them.  

Moving on to further proof, random lower back aches.  I never used to understand why people complained about back pain when getting out of a car.  I mean, you're just sitting there, right?  What could possibly be so traumatizing to your back while you're sitting for half an hour, listening to music?  Maybe it's the music.  The worst is waking up with a back ache.  I swear someone must have been doing yoga to me in my sleep.  One of these nights I'm going to just pretend to be asleep and catch the culprit red-handed!

Lastly, I hear myself complaining about music and I know I'm getting old.  I love to listen to anything I can dance to which is usually pop music or hip-hop/R&B.  I have become so disenchanted with hip-hop lately because I don't enjoy hearing about explicit sexual encounters on my way to the grocery store.  As I've aged, I think I've become a little more prudish when it comes to music.  I remember what a scandal "Push it" by Salt 'n Pepper created when I was in elementary school, but I loved it.  These days I just don't want to hear it, which is qualitative proof that I need to reserve my spot in a nursing home.  Just hand me a cane or walker and I'll commit myself because the last thing I need is to go around saying "I can't believe what the kids listen to these days!"  I feel like I have been forced into rock, easy listening and country music.  It's a tragic tale, really.

It's cold in here. . .  What time is it?

North Carolina, First in Flight

Since I was whining about Maui in my last post, allow me to extol the virtues of North Carolina for a brief moment. My North Carolina top five are as follows:

5) On the interstate islands separating lanes they plant bunches of beautiful flowers. Most of the time they are of one color and lately it has been yellow. So picture yourself driving on a bright and sunny day and your eyes are assaulted with a sea of brilliant yellow flowers on the side of the road. Given the right moment, day and time it is a stunning sight or at the very least a cheery one. This picture was taken as I was driving so it really doesn't do the flowers justice, but this is kinda what it looks like.

4) It is so green here. I realize that having lived in Utah for the longest time I am used to a different type of vegetation (albeit breathtaking in its own right), but I feel like the neighborhoods in this state are cut directly out of a forest. If humans were to suddenly disappear in North Carolina all signs of civilization would be gone in 2 weeks, overrun by wildlife and vegetation. This state is so thickly wooded and that lushness is so close it's right behind you and just over your shoulder. It's really refreshing to think that Mother Nature is not so far away. This next picture I took 2 blocks from my house and I love it. I feel like the woods are beckoning.

3) Diversity. I am currently taking a class at an all Black university and let's just say it is a far cry from anything I've ever experienced before and I'm loving it. I also like that I can go to a Malaysian restaurant and eat authentic, not to mention delicious, food. It's just nice. There is even some other adorable little interracial kids in our neighborhood, but none as cute as my nephews.

2) The confederate flag--Oh wait, I hate that. However, I do think there's something to Southern hospitality. People aren't usually just plain rude here. It's almost like courtesy is mandatory, which is a good thing. Being originally from New York I haven't completely lost my suspiciousness of strangers being nice to me, but since I have lived in North Carolina I've learned to drop my guard a bit.

DRUMROLL PLEASE . . .

1) Fried chicken. Let's be honest, the South don't play when it comes to fried chicken and barbeque. I actually think BBQing is a competitive sport around here, but I digress. Seriously, I have tasted some of the best fried chicken I have ever had right here in Dixie folks and I ain't lyin'. AND I have yet to taste Bojangles fried chicken which I hear is off the hook!

Well, there you have it. I might miss Maui but the flowers, having mother nature so close (I almost ran over a jackrabbit on the way to the gym the other day), diversity and good ol' fried chicken tend to ease my nostalgia a bit. This one's for you North Carolina!

Nostalgia

I have sand in my backpack.  I refuse to clean it out.  Every time I see that sand I remember Maui and dragging that same backpack filled with my journal, a book and snacks to the beach.  I remember relaxing in the unrelenting Hawaiian sun.  I remember the smell of the ocean water and the heavy air.  Sometimes the sand was too hot to walk on and would burn the bottom of my feet.  Looking back, it was a small price to pay for the spirit and beauty of such a place.  

The sand in my backpack is a portable piece of Maui and it would almost kill me to get rid of it.  It's so nice to have something to remember it by.  I took no pictures while I was there, at the time I didn't have a camera.  The sand is my personal photo album, a sort of time travel machine that transports me back there as I remove a formidable science textbook from my backpack these days.  Even though I had two jobs when I was there and worked my little fingers off, I made time every week to go to the beach.  I mean, why live on Maui and not go to the beach?  That's just plain sacrilege.  Going to the beach was peaceful and renewing.

The funny thing is that I cannot articulate what I miss most.  I think it's a combination of the island aura, history and people that created the magic I felt there.  Before I went to Maui I heard someone refer to it as their "happy place" and I would have to agree with her.  I think Maui is my happy place despite my being worn out and tired when I was there, despite arriving there without a home and without friends (although I left with some) and despite my having only a single item of baggage filled with my possessions.  Plus my backpack.  I think a person can still be happy under those circumstances, and I was.  

I know without a doubt I am in the right place now but sometimes I miss the smell of the ocean and hearing its waves.  At least I have some sand.

Amazing

You know what I think is truly amazing?

Fireflies.

The Highly Improbable

I know you're going to find this inconceivable, but I recently became a certified group fitness instructor. In plain English that means I can teach aerobics. This coming week I have an interview plus a practical demo with one potential employer and an actual step aerobics class with my only real employer since I've been certified. This will be the first step class, or any for that matter, that I've taught in six years. Needless to say, it's time I addressed some concerns.

First, I'm not built to suit a fashion model's size. I weigh XXX (hint: this is a really big number) and if those gym rats come in expecting to see Suzanne Sommers they're going to be really surprised when they get Queen Latifah, okay? The whole point in initiating this hobby was to give me an incentive to reach my fitness goals. The fringe benefits of being a fitness instructor are 1) someone is paying you to work out regularly AND 2) a free gym membership. No one wants to pay for those these days.

Another concern is I'm a gimp. I have one foot, to be honest a whole leg, that does not work like it should. I've broken my right foot, never went to physical therapy and still walk with a limp. Further studies on my gimp leg have shown that the problem with my noticably smaller right leg may not be easily remedied anytime soon. So, in addition to getting Queen Latifah for an aerobics instructor, my lovely students are getting Daniel Day-Lewis in My Left Foot (except it's my right foot). I've just gotten inspiration for the title of my class: Quasimodo Step. Maybe I'll add the byline "If the instructor can do it, you can too!"

Anyway, I guess I'm up for an adventure. At best, I'm hoping I don't entirely cripple myself or anyone else. I guess I could always teach a geriatric class or something. Nursing homes need aerobic instructors too, right?

I'm Outing Myself

I like zombies.  It all started with a mercilessly violent video game that my brothers used to play called Resident Evil.  I would watch them murder the living dead (and zombified canines) in the cold and dark basement and either cover my head, close my eyes or scream as the situation on the screen warranted.  At the end of the zombie slaying session I came to find that I had enjoyed myself.  Fast forward a decade or so later and I have seen all the Resident Evil movies, of which there are three.  The last one, Resident Evil:  Extinction, I saw by myself.  I don't want to go into what a bad idea that was right now, but my point is that I went out of my way to see a zombie movie with no encouragement.  

Enter stage left my brother the zombie lover.  He is seriously "Zombie or Bust" and is well prepared should the zombocalypse occur tomorrow. He knows the best weapons to use in any zombie vs. human battlefield scenario and is intimately acquainted with the cinematic history of zombies starting with black and white movies.  If you could obtain a degree in zombie studies, he'd have a doctorate.  It is really he that influenced my decision to choose zombies over vampires as my death dealing monsters of choice.  In addition, my sister gave me a book about the zombocalypse called World War Z that I surprised myself by liking.  Believe it or not, the book was boring at times, but it had frightening highlights which I thought were quite redeeming (i.e. the computer nerd in Japan that was forced to fight off zombies with an ancient samurai sword).

There were two distinct events which made me realize I have an in-the-closet, voyeuristic fascination with zombies.  First, as I was mindlessly channel surfing one afternoon I happened upon a B movie on some no-name channel about a zombie outbreak in a prison which I could not stop watching.  Needless to say, it was ghastly.  Second, a few days ago I saw the mecca of all zombie movies, Dawn of the Dead.  I really enjoyed it although I'm not sure the chainsaw accident was necessary.  Even so, I am still pondering adding it to my top ten favorite movies of all time.  I'll put it between Pride and Prejudice and The Little Princess.  So there.  I am officially out of the closet.  I just couldn't handle the secrecy.  I hope that I will not be discriminated against in any manner because of my preferences.

Powerball

I'm not the biggest proponent of gambling but I was sorely tempted to enter the Powerball lottery recently. Don't get me wrong, I've pulled a slot machine handle on the rare occasion but in general I try to avoid gambling as much for religious reasons as for logistical. I like to hold on to what little money I have. Anyway, this Powerball lottery was calling to me in silky beckoning tones and I had to ask myself, "Is playing the lottery really gambling?" A part of me says "yes," but a part of me says "tsk tsk tsk!" Let's get this straight, I spend one buck, choose 6 numbers and could potentially win 87 million dollars? Sounds great, where do I sign?

Alas, I was too late in getting off the fence. The latest drawing was Saturday, February 28th and I am still shedding bitter bitter tears over my lost millions. At least I have the profound meaning in my last fortune cookie saying, "There is in the worst of fortunes the best chance of a happy ending." I take that to mean the next Powerball lottery is all mine!