Why the Y?
Since my last post, something like 29 days have passed. You maybe didn’t miss me, but I’ve missed this. Here’s what I’ve been doing. These are not excuses although they sound like good ones.
1. I’ve made comfortable the old Victorian-style farmhouse we finished moving to at 3:30 the morning Boy Wonder moved to college. He slept here exactly four hours in the room we both call his. I’m proud it took me just two and a half days to unpack every box when I got back from Brookings. I’ve had repair men in the house and on the grounds almost as many days as I’ve lived here. One was here today. He’ll be back tomorrow. I’m actually looking forward to being left in peace even though I’m living alone for the first time in my life. (I smell a separate blog post on that subject!)
2. I’ve been listening to an excessive amount of country western music. It’s about family, God, love, loss and all the stuff that really matters most. You’d be surprised how much of it’s about children growing up. For instance: “I’m lost in her there holding that pink rod and reel. She’s doing almost everything but sittin still…talkin bout her ballet shoes and training wheels…and her kittens…And she thinks we’re just fishin’”
Hey, it helps me cry. (As if I need encouragement.) They call that cathartic. It’s working for me.
Then there’s “You and tequila make me crazy” with its mournful harmonies and “If I die young bury me in satin, lay me down on a bed of roses. Sink me in the river at dawn. Send me away on the words of a love song.” In case you don’t know, the death of Young Beauty is a classic topic of high literature. More tragic: Virginal Beauty, which she turns out to be: “I’ve never known the love of a man, but it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand./There’s a boy in town says he’ll love me forever./ Who would have thought forever could be severed by the sharp knife of a short life?” Good Lord. That’ll wrench yer heart as long as you have one.
Don’t worry, there’s relief in the celebratory and drinking songs. My favorite might be “I ain’t here for a long time, I’m here for a good time.” I finally figured out the rhythm to the line “folks are always dreaming bout what they’d like to do but I like to do just what I like.” Who thinks this stuff up?! Maybe my absolute favorite line in all of it (besides “she thinks my tractor’s sexy“) might be “God is great, beer is good, and people are crazy.”
Okay! It’s true!
Ask anyone, I’ve always said I have to be in the MOOD for country. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been known to listen to it for pleasure. But who knew in mass quantities it would be such good medicine. Apparently, I’ve been in this mood for a while now. But, truly, I digress.
3. I’ve begun a photography “business.” I can call it that, right? Since I anticipate being paid for the work I’ve been doing the last five weeks. Luwandi Photography: capturing life’s best moments. Currently working on a sports photography contract. Athletes are so thoroughly present in the thing they’re doing. So wholly alive, striving, completely focused. And that is beautiful. All the time. I aim for journalistic coverage other photographers might miss. Stories on the sideline. A particularly hard hit in practice. The instant a dad greets his son after a stunning win. The look of Mom’s worry as she’s watching in the stands. It’s great stuff.
I will do other events… if they qualify as life’s best moments. Marriage, birth, celebration, endeavor! Can you think of other ‘best’ moments?
4. I’ve also commenced fall schedules at church, in the community, and certainly not least, at our local YMCA. I’m working out six days a week and twice on Monday and Tuesday. Not kidding. I’m not losing weight if that’s what you think. No, not yet. I’m eating anything I want. I mean, my metabolism is revvved and I’m hungry. “Lay off! I’m starving!”
I weigh the same but I can feel my glutes and hams and quads and those muscles over my ribs.
I can feel them from the inside at least, even if they still appear to be covered by a layer of fatty insulation. I’m glad my body responds well to exercise. It wakes up and says, “what are you doing?”
I started Zumba three times a week. Latin Dance workout? You know I love it. (It’s a good substitute for dancing to hip hop at the only decent dance joint in the lakes area.) Three different instructors. Big differences between each of them. One of them makes us do things that make us look like 20-something gangsters and I’m wondering if I manage to get really good at those moves whether my children would be proud or embarrassed.
Seriously. I’m finding there’s a huge difference between what I was doing for activity last year and these workouts. That was easy crap compared to machines changing your incline and effort, monitoring your heart rate continually and telling you you’re just 30% done while you stare at an episode of the Today show or Sports Central. One morning, someone chose the FoodNetwork and Bobby Flay had a throw down over homemade baked macaroni and cheese. For some reason, it distracted me more effectively than the highlights from last weekend’s college football games.
Even more distracting is the parade of 80-something bare-naked bodies in the locker room. I bet I have a different view of the flesh I’m living in by the time I get to be nearly-dead too. I mean, then I’ll be anticipating leaving it soon enough and I’ll be proud of the fact I can get my clothes off and my swimsuit on eventually. There will be no hurry. I won’t care if ten forty-something chickens stand gawking while they try to cover their transfer from dressed to swim-ready. I’ll either be truly comfortable in my own skin or so detached from it I won’t even feel naked. If my mind is sharp enough, I’ll probably think of this blog post and laugh at myself.
Either way, the locker room is a reminder that 1. we’re all human 2. exercise does not make you beautiful and 3. getting old pretty much sucks rock in a bottle.
If nothing else, going to the Y six days a week and twice Monday and Tuesday reminds me “I ain’t here for a long time; I’m here for a good time.”
I’ve been trying to specifically define “good” which has me pretty busy, but I’m pretty sure posting more regularly is “good.”
