Gym Shorts

This is going to be an intentionally rambling blog.

Because I’m trying to find my voice.

And rambling can be funny, right?

Mark and I were at the gym last Sunday. We go to a yoga class Sunday mornings–the closest thing we have to a family spiritual ritual–and drop the two youngest kids off at the Kids Club for childcare. Usually, there is a really long line. I mean long. Like it takes a half-hour to get in. Thus, we have to get there early.

This lucky, lucky time, there were (was?) just a couple people in line, so we got the kids into the club with an entire half-hour to spare before yoga class

We decided to go up to the cardio floor.

We were not equipped for cardio, in a shoe sort of way.

Mark had on his Sensi slides and calf-high Smartwool socks.

I had on my Jambu Colorado vegan boots (which I have worn almost every day for the past 6 months) and knee-high Sock It To Me socks.

Obviously, I couldn’t use the elliptical machine in my boots (too sweaty. no airflow whatsoever), so I “ran” in my socks. I pushed them down to my ankles, and hoped nobody would notice.

How’s that for barefoot running, you Vibram Five-Toe (or is it Finger) wearers??

I tried to think about things other than the way the holes in the running platform (what do you call those things) felt.

And that brings me around to the real reason I’m writing this post!

I turned to Mark and said, “I thought of something funny. Wanna hear it?”

Mark: “Okay.”

Me: “Okay. Imagine this is a dialogue between two people.”

Mark: “Okay.”

Me: “Okay, the first person asks, “Do you like children?”

And then the second person says, “Yes, but only in moderation.'”

Me: “I crack myself up.”

Me: “You could picture them having this conversation while eating. It’s so funny!”

Mark: “polite laughter”

(No, actually, he always appreciates my jokes. More than anyone else I’ve ever met. He says they’re “cerebral.”)

I must have thought this up because, while waiting in line for the Kids’ Club, I often chat with other people’s kids to pass the time. I have always talked to strange kids. I’m the kind of person who plays peek-a-boo with the baby on the plane, or tries to distract the fussy kid on the bus. Before having my own kids, I thoroughly enjoyed this. Now that I have my own kids, I still do it, but it’s completely out of habit, not necessarily out of enjoyment.

It’s like snacking. You know, something you do in moderation.

It’s easy to appreciate a kid that you only  interact with for a few moments.

With my own verbose daughter, talking with her is more like a meal…a seven-course meal that ends right before the next meal-time begins. I wish I could appreciate it more. Because in a few years, she probably won’t want to talk to me at all.

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Part of the solution since 1973.

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