life

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Is It Over Yet?

Christmas is almost here. Bah humbug.

My kids are grown and I find that the holiday just isn’t the same as when they were little. Back then, I would deck out the tree, decorate the entire house, and enjoy the sounds of laughter and excitement as the jolly old fat man’s arrival grew nearer and nearer. There’s just something about the unabashed joy children bring to the season. It’s enough to melt even my curmudgeonly heart.

In recent years, my love for a clutter free home has won out against my love for Christmas decorations. I now live vicariously through the Clark Griswolds of the world (I’m looking at you, Paul). Although, to be fair, the only reason I don’t have a tree is thanks to the ne’er-do-well. She climbed it a couple of years back, got stuck in the string of lights, and almost broke her leg while struggling to get out. Imagine waking up to the sounds of a thousand banshees in your living room. Yeah, that was fun. I ended up having to cut a perfectly good string of lights to get her loose. So now, I have an enormous collection of Christmas tree ornaments – which I add to every year – with no tree on which to hang them thanks to a very real fear of finding a cat hanging by her hindleg amongst the limbs.

I will admit, a lot of my bah humbug comes from my deep hatred of stores, people, and frigid temps. Oh, I love snow! But you see, we don’t get snow. We just get wind and -5° weather and apparently, it gets dark at noon now. Did I mention people?  Yeah, they’re everywhere and even more so during the holidays. Ugh. People. Amirite?  And don’t even get me started with the super holiday spirited folks singing carols for absolutely no reason whatsoever and holiday work parties with the overly extroverted coworkers you usually only see via Zoom. Did you know there’s no mute button in real life? Right!?  I was disappointed to say the least.

Some rituals of the season I do enjoy despite the Grinchiness that has crept up on me in my old age. Baking with holiday music blaring in the background and Christmas movies – though it’s more Hallmark now and less Rudolph – and matching what I hope is the perfect gift to the right person, especially my children. I love my kids and of course, they did have to grow up, despite my admonishments to the contrary. If they had just listened to me, they’d still be 5 years old. But they never listen. What can you do? I miss wrapping presents late into the night on Christmas Eve and waiting for everyone to fall asleep so I could sneak in to put all the gifts under the tree before retreating to my room, trashed with discarded wrapping paper, empty label sheets, and spent tape dispensers, to get too little sleep before the rugrats burst in screaming, “Santa came! Santa came!” at an ungodly hour.

Alas, nowadays, I find myself tucked in, all nice and cozy, at a respectable hour on Christmas Eve with nary an alarm clock in sight. Christmas morning has a little less mess and a lot less toys and it no longer looks like the Christmas section at Macy’s threw up in my living room. I even get to sleep in. As luck would have it, my kids inherited my “I love sleep gene” and when they’re home, they’re more than happy to sleep in.  We watch Krampus instead of Charlie Brown and have wine instead of hot chocolate. We play Cards Against Humanity instead of Mousetrap. The cookies and fudge are the same, no need to mess with perfection. And as I watch my kids laughing together while reminiscing of Christmases past, all is right in the world.

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The Art of Bad Spelling

Everyone has their own unique take on art. Author E.A. Bucchianeri wrote, “Art is in the eye of the beholder, and everyone will have their own interpretation.”  But where is graffiti’s place in the art world?  Graffiti has its origins in 1970s New York, when young people began to use spray paint and other materials to create images on buildings and on the sides of subway trains. Although, technically speaking, ancient cave art is also a form of graffiti.

Here’s a question for you: Is it art or is it vandalism? The public is pretty much split on the idea, which isn’t surprising. It’s strange how, as a society, we almost overwhelmingly value and appreciate cave art and yet generally vilify urban graffiti art when they’re really just two creative peas in a vibrant, colorful pod.

Personally, I think some graffiti art is nothing short of a visual masterpiece. I’ve seen so many beautiful works of art painted on the sides of buildings but at the same time, I’ve seen some pretty atrocious ones as well. Have you ever had to wait for a train and as you’re sitting there waiting for yours, you’re left sitting there watching all the other train cars go by? That’s when you really see some “winners” let me tell ya. Gang slang, random dicks, and a bunch of generally incoherent pieces is all it is. Occasionally something that took a little effort will sneak by, but not often.

There’s also been more than a few times where I’ve come across graffiti on the sides of buildings in urban landscapes that don’t particularly hold any artistic merit or, in some cases, even basic spelling. With that said, I’m well aware that some words are misspelled on purpose for whatever reason like perhaps it holds some sort of hidden message or something unique to the artist. At the end of the day, graffiti is art and art is always up for interpretation but there are only so many ways you can interpret a poorly rendered picture of the word “ketchup” on the side of a building.

I live in a suburb and recently I’ve noticed more and more graffiti popping up, but unfortunately, it’s not the pretty kind. If it were, I’d have no issue whatsoever as I’m sure it would brighten the place up and be something nice and unique to look at.

Generally speaking, I think that graffiti artists are extremely talented and the art they craft can extend far beyond spectacular. I know I’ve seen quite a few amazing murals in some places, hell, I’ve even seen businesses pay graffiti artists to come up with something unique and thought-invoking on their walls. Not only can a well-painted piece of graffiti be fresh and edgy, but it can also be a one-of-a-kind talking piece that customers are sure to remember. In a world that loves remaking classics and imitating the art that came before it, a uniquely crafted work of graffiti could do wonders for a small up-and-coming business, or even a well-established one for that matter. Unfortunately, those types of graffiti artists don’t live in my town. I’m not sure what one would call them, but artists they are not. Cause what passes for graffiti art around here is severely lacking in any artistic talent whatsoever. I know that might sound harsh, but come on. Those of us who have to look at the end product deserve better.

If you’re wondering what I came across to prompt this critique, it was nothing more than a simple statement written in plain black spray paint that said, “I like my bad habits best surved cold.”  Yep, you read that right, “surved” instead of “served.” There doesn’t seem to be any reason to spell served as surved, at least, not that I could find. And believe me, I spent entirely too long searching for a reason… any reason. Even if there was a hidden purpose behind the misspelling, the art itself was extra lackluster. Perhaps if it wasn’t, I could have overlooked the bad spelling but at the end of the day, it was just ugly and horribly executed. If you’re going to misspell something, whether on purpose or by accident, there should at least be some artistic merit behind the effort. Hell, I’d even take an emotionally or politically charged statement such as “eat the rich” or “make love, not war,” you know, something we can all get behind. It just seems like a waste of time to deface public property with something like the word “surved.”

I don’t know what I’m hoping to accomplish with this little rant, but I guess if I can discourage at least one bad graffiti artist from ruining a wall somewhere, then this post will have “surved” its purpose.

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Speaking in Tongues

Every generation has its own slang terms that generally confuse the older generations that came before them. For instance, kids today are saying things like “bussin” when something is really good. Usually, it’s in reference to food, or so I’m told, but it could be anything. Or perhaps you’ve heard the word “bet” in response to someone asking if your plans are still on for later. This one wasn’t as confusing as a few I’ve heard. Some slang terms go full circle and come back around. Just like fashion. Young people think they’ve created something when really, it originated with their great-grandparents or even *gasp* their parents.

But what about words for things that aren’t necessarily considered slang… they’re more or less just outdated terms from the “old world?” I mean I’m sure pretty much everyone calls pants, pants now. My grandparents, however, generally referred to them as slacks. Do you ever remember your grandparents taking you to see the pictures? Of course, when I say pictures, I’m not referring to a photo album store but rather the movie theater or cinema. Speaking of which, it used to be just cinema. Now it’s the movie theater. As a kid, I remember wearing galoshes which are practically only referred to as rainboots today. At least to my knowledge. Do teens even go necking anymore? I doubt most of them even know what it means, but yeah, I’m sure they still probably do it.

While I’m on the topic of speaking the proverbial “old tongue,” I have a small story that highlights exactly what I’m talking about. Just the other day I was out shopping with my daughter, and I told a young cashier at the store that I loved her blouse. It was in fact quite lovely. Sheer black with a muted white design, buttoned collar.  As soon as the words left my mouth, I had that weird sensation that you get when you think someone is awkwardly staring at you for a reason you’re not completely aware of.  As I looked up from digging my wallet out of my needlessly cavernous purse, I found that I was right. This young woman had the most confused look on her face as she tried to make sense of what I had just said to her. After a few seconds she had given up and responded hesitantly with, “…my what?”

As I was trying to figure out what blouse might rhyme with that could cause offense if misheard (in an effort to know what type of apology needed to be offered), my daughter swooped in, and quickly explained to her that I was talking about her top. Apparently, my daughter explained later, no one says blouse anymore. The cashier’s face brightened and she cheerfully said, “thank you!” The crisis created by my attempt at a compliment was averted. In that moment, I felt old.  So old.

This whole situation reminded me of some previous writings where I discuss my ability to bewilder my kids with phrases that I’ve grown up with that they’ve never heard of. Here are a few of my favorites:

  • Piss or get off the pot.
  • It’s like trying to herd cats.
  • I’ve got no dog in this fight.
  • That dog won’t hunt.

But blouse?? Come on, that’s a common term, right? When did we stop saying blouse? Who knows, I was probably absent that day.

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I’m not going.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned this, but, back in July, I had a health scare that put me in the hospital. The doctors assured me that the issue was resolved and life could continue with nary a worry on the horizon.  Well, as so often happens, they were wrong. My recent radio silence was brought on by another such incident occurring and yep, another hospital stay.  But, my family and you, dear readers, are not getting rid of me so easily. I’m here to stay.

Besides, from experience, it’s the really outrageous plotlines that come next… wouldn’t want to miss that.

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Only Pre-Approved Traditions Allowed

If you’re thinking this is some sort of DIY article on how to enjoy the holidays, you should read the title again. “Pre-Approved Traditions?” What does that even mean? Well, it’s my takeaway from reading this article from Martha Stewart’s magazine and frankly, it’s a little pathetic. To say that the contents of this article rubbed me the wrong way is an understatement.

Now, I don’t celebrate the holiday season the way my parents did when I was little, or even the way I did when my kids were little for that matter. In my older years, I really try to slow things down this time of year and just enjoy it the best I can instead of running myself ragged spending money I don’t have and decorating the entire house just for me to bitch and moan about how I’m too exhausted to put the place back to rights. The fact that the ne’er-do-well (aka Holly the Cat) keeps me from having a tree tends to also hamper the holiday vibe, but oh well. Such is life with a demon.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE Christmas… although, the word we throw around in my house is Yule. My favorite thing is the baking. No surprise there. The point is, I don’t decorate these days mainly because I’m lazy, but if I WERE going to decorate, my house would look like the holiday aisle at K-Mart threw up in my living room. And I’d be damned proud of it.

What sparked this rant, you might ask. Well, the article asserts that there are “8 Outdated Holiday Decorating Trends to Skip When You Deck Your Halls This Year,” which is also the name of the write-up, but whatever happened to just letting people celebrate the holidays however the hell they want to celebrate the holidays? Why do people have to suck the joy out of everything, including what is supposed to be the most “joyous time of the year.”

If you want to dress up in ugly sweaters, binge-watch Hallmark Christmas movies, and get smashed on store-bought eggnog, more power to you, just don’t drive. If you want to add a few hundred dollars to your power bill by lighting up the neighborhood with a Christmas lights display that would make Clark Griswold jealous, go for it… your carbon footprint be damned. But yeah, the point is if no one is robbing a bank or hurting anyone, then do whatever you want if it means having a good time and enjoying yourself during this festive season. And to be honest, if you want to rob a bank, just wear a good non-slipping mask and have fun.

Influencers in this article claim that instead of velvet, burlap, or satin tree skirts, we should instead consider a slimline tree collar in painted metal, shimmering metallics, or natural woven fibers. Like what in the actual hell?

It also prompts us to consider “unexpected” shades of holiday colors when decorating, though they mention blues and greens are a cool aesthetic, and I’m not sure how old they are, but blues and greens have been a staple in Christmas decorations ever since… I don’t know, forever. No bright colors, no glitter. No glitter. At Christmas.

No oversized ornaments, as less is more by their standards. I tend to agree that simple is best for me, but if you want a 12-foot inflatable snowman hypnotically dancing in the cool winter breeze as it tries in vain to seduce the giant inflatable Grinch balloon on your roof, then that’s your business. And I guess maybe all your neighbors within eyeshot.

Personally, I have a thing for neon pink metallic flamingos with glittery bright red Santa hats. So, I’m all for “you do you.”

So, instead of telling you the “proper” way to decorate your private space for this holiday season, I offer a little bit of warm friendly advice. At the risk of doing something outdated, cringe, or weird by today’s standard, especially if it’s a long-standing holiday tradition in your home, don’t worry about the judgmental eye of social influencers, and enjoy yourself however you want.

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Ukuleles and Airlines, Oh My!

Anyone who knows me is aware that I am an introvert. I make no bones about it. Don’t get me wrong, I still do what I have to do when I have to do it, but generally speaking, I value my private time and my personal space. So naturally, when I have to fly, these things I enjoy are  thrown completely out the window. If you’ve flown before, especially if you do it often, one of the biggest pet peeves you may have is children crying during the entire flight. However, there are a lot of folks out there who have no problem blocking that out with AirPods, a movie, or just a few decades of being a parent. But what if you were just peacefully sitting there on your flight and suddenly a few people got up and started handing out ukuleles to everyone, leading to an impromptu music lesson?

The “magical” ukulele event took place on Southwest Airlines and generated an unusually high response from the community. While there were a bunch of people who weren’t too keen on the idea (such as myself), there were also a lot of folks who somehow enjoyed it. I know, right? I’m not sure what’s wrong with them, but it takes all kinds, I guess. I should also point out that I wasn’t on the flight, I merely read about it, but I feel for any introvert in that situation. Along with the people who wanted nothing more than to catch a quick nap during their flight.

Can you imagine relaxing and leaning back (as much as you can lean back in seats made in hell), closing your eyes, and then BAM! Ukulele music … and not from talented folks, either. From people who had likely never held a ukulele before in their lives. I shudder to think. All I can say is, no. No, thanks. Let me off. I’ll catch the next flight, thank you very much.

These surprise events all started sometime before the pandemic, which is when Southwest became known for these onboard “surprise and delight” programs, but with traveling and the tourist scene slowing down, these little events have drastically slowed down as well.

One Twitter user commented, “If the flight I’m on ever turns into a surprise group music lesson I am going to sue the airline for $50 billion in emotional damages” and I can honestly say that I’m 100% in agreement with that.

Another user commented, “If you aren’t on board or you haven’t experienced it, it’s out of the ordinary, and that’s kind of the point. … It’s something special and uniquely Southwest.” Well, if that’s how Southwest flies, then I’ll be flying with literally anyone else. There could be some guy dressed as the Rocketeer flying people solely on his back to their location, and I’d be more than happy to take him up on the offer to get to my destination as long as he promised not to pull any crap like fucking ukulele lessons.

All kidding aside, this happened on a flight from Long Beach to Honolulu and while you may be wondering if it lasted the entire trip, luckily it was all pretty much over in about 20 minutes. At least the staff took pity on the passengers so they didn’t have to listen to a few dozen people trying to belt out the chords to “Freebird” on ukuleles from Cali all the way to Hawaii. Although, come to think of it, that might’ve just been self-preservation on the staff’s part.

I must admit though, a free ukulele would be kind of cool, but not as cool as a free parachute in that situation. And honestly, if you knew how I felt about jumping out of a perfectly good airplane, you’d realize how serious I am about hating an impromptu amateur ukulele concert.

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They’ll Put a Spell on You

Has this ever happened to you? It’s a nice, crisp, fall weekend evening after a long, hard week of work and you’re ready to cuddle up with some cider, a blanket, and a spooky movie – as one does this time of year – when all of a sudden, boom!  All hell is unleashed on you and your home through that nefarious streaming platform… Disney+.

No? Didn’t think so.

A Texas mom recently voiced her concerns about the new kids’ Halloween movie “Hocus Pocus 2” on the scariest place known to mankind: Facebook. From there, her warning to other parents went viral and the internet exploded into fiery pits of discussion threads mainly consisting of like-minded “Christians” killing the vibes of spooky season. Jamie Gooch, head fun-sucker, stated that “the whole movie is based on witches harvesting children for blood sacrifices” which is, ironically, the same thing Texas conservatives say about pro-choicers. I don’t know about you, but I sense a theme.

In interviews, Gooch goes on further to say, “Everybody thinks it’s fake and innocent, but they could be casting any type of spell that they want to, anything could be coming through that TV screen into your home.” Which is beyond ridiculous logic. I mean, come on. I am an avid viewer of “The Great British Baking Show” and “Love Island” but I have never once had a hot British snack, um, you know, a scone, come through my TV. Even when I prayed AND tried numerous spells.

Gooch, perhaps unsurprisingly, identifies as a Christian and stated that she and her family have not participated in Halloween in about four or five years because they’re not like regular Christians, they’re cool Christians. Okay, that last part I did make up, but it’s not hard to imagine Gooch trying to use a “Mean Girls” pop culture quote to her advantage when we all know she’s the type of person who would constantly try to make fetch happen.

She did in fact say that “For a Christian, we are held at a higher standard.” But I think Rotten Tomatoes would disagree. “Hocus Pocus 2” received a 63% on the tomatometer scale, while “The Passion of the Christ” got a 49% – define higher standard, Gooch.

It’s no surprise that right-wingers are so vehemently and loudly against any form of entertainment surrounding witchcraft. Witchcraft at its core is female centric. But hey, to be fair, they don’t like wizards either. Or at least, not the magical kind. Remember back in the late 1990s and early 2000s when the alt-right religious folks were so afraid of the Harry Potter novels? Even though the series got a generation of kids loving books, they called for a boycott to “save the children’s souls” and in some areas, the books were publicly burned “to fight demonic influence.” Conservatives were quick to write off J.K. Rowling entirely because of all the wizardry and magic, yet 20-some years later it turns out she has more in common with their bigoted views than we could have imagined. Quite frankly, conservatives, you can have her, and we’ll gladly keep the Sanderson Sisters.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try and cast a spell for that hot British snack.

 

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Perfection is Overrated

I know I’ve been a bit quieter than usual here lately. No excuses really, just life getting in the way. But I figure you’ve had enough downtime from my tirades, so I’m determined to get back into the game on a more regular basis. Lucky you. Today felt like kind of a rant-y day, so again, lucky you!

Being a huge animal lover, there’s always been something that I just don’t understand. How is it that we can continue to encroach on wildlife and then wonder why they end up in our space? As humans continue to cut down tree after tree, painstakingly eliminating the vital forests of our planet, people somehow act surprised when a bear, deer, or alligator stumbles into your backyard. If we keep destroying their homelands, then we’re going to have to come to terms with having animal neighbors. And not in the “we’ll just kill them all” way that we’re doing now.

Well, I’ll admit, I don’t really want a bear sniffing around my house, but I’m also aware that not pissing it off and simply chasing it away with a few loud noises will do the trick just fine. Aside from those adorable little trash pandas, which most people call raccoons, animals don’t typically want to go through your trash. And honestly, raccoons would probably not have to dumpster dive either. They, like all animals, would rather survive on the natural bounty provided by their native habitats.  Those same exact habitats that are being wiped out by, you guessed it, us humans. We create the problem and then complain about the problem we created. Oh, but those darn little critters, right? Deer tearing up the flower bed, opossums in the trash, squirrels stealing stuff from the garden… to hell with these pesky pests, right? Let’s all just ignore the reason these animals are forced into an urban lifestyle in the first place.

Here’s an idea. Maybe the space we are trying to evict them from was never our space to begin with. To them, we’re the pests. Consider the Merriam-Webster definitions of the word pest.

  • A plague.
  • Something resembling a pest in destructiveness.
  • Someone or something who annoys, aka a nuisance.

Humans appear to fit the mold quite nicely.  Considering the pollution and war we brought to this planet, and our constant failure at caring for it, we are arguably the most destructive plague in history.

Destructiveness? That little chipmunk dug a hole in your flowerbed because some lumber company just cleared out 20 acres of its habitat for that new development down the way. Shame on that rodent right? What was more destructive, the golf ball-sized hole under your chrysanthemums or wiping out an entire forest? Perfect lawns. Perfect gardens. Perfect perfect perfect. Animals apparently have no place in this façade of perfection.

A nuisance or something that annoys. The third definition of the word pest is pretty much exclusive to humans, gnats, houseflies, and mosquitoes. If you asked me to name 5 things that I find utterly annoying (aside from gnats, houseflies, and mosquitoes), I’m almost positive they would all be human-related. Let’s try.

  1. Being cut off while driving.
  2. Being placed on hold for longer than 5 minutes.
  3. Cold pizza and warm wine.
  4. Most movie remakes.
  5. People doing TikToks in the grocery store in front of the frosted shredded mini-wheats I have a coupon for.

Before you even argue with me, I get it, I do.  You don’t want potentially life-threatening animals near your home, especially if you have children around. But if you live out in the country, this is just a part of life and you need to learn how to cope with it. Preferably without killing the animals who don’t realize that your home is now smack dab in the middle of what used to be their exclusive space.

If you’re closer to town and you’re dealing with pesky little critters like groundhogs and snakes, there are things you can do to safely deter them from certain areas of your property while still allowing them to, you know, live. If you’re a victim of chipmunk abuse, just pull up Google and look for natural and safe deterrents from these highly hostile, albeit teeny-tiny, monsters. That was sarcasm, of course, chipmunks are cute and harmless, but here, I’ll even do you one solid and give you a link to get started. Or, hey, here’s a novel idea, you could do what you’re always expecting everyone else around you to do… share.

Instead of worrying about the perfect lawn or the perfectly organized flower bed filled with ornamental flora, why not sow wildflowers and plants that attract and feed the wildlife you share this space with? Why not make your garden an oasis for all manner of creatures who, frankly, deserve to be here as much as you do? Instead of finding ways to oust them, find ways to grow your empathy and coexist with the animals.

We have destroyed the majority of the natural habitats that used to grace this planet right along with most of the animals who called those habitats home. It’s now up to us to maintain what is left and to ensure that the wildlife can stay wild and healthy. It’s a ridiculously easy thing to do once you get past the whole “mine mine mine” mindset.

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What the hell is wrong with people?

When you ask someone what they do for fun, what are some of the typical answers you receive? If someone were to ask me that very question, I’d say that I enjoy reading books, watching movies, kicking back with some wine, and maybe even taking a nice little quiet vacation to a secluded beach or cabin somewhere. I’ve been known to explore the odd quaint town and even hike (ever so slowly). Some other acceptable answers may be camping, fishing, arts and crafts, or gaming, I mean the list of “what do you do for fun?” is literally endless.

However, one concept I have a hard time getting behind are the folks who put themselves in immediate danger for a little bit of excitement. Yeah, yeah, I get the whole haunted house genre, but I’m talking about real life “you can die” danger and not just the “might pee your pants if that teenaged zombie comes near me” danger. All for a kick.

Sure, virtually anything we do can be considered dangerous in some way, I mean, just watch the news. Even benign hobbies have their risks. You could end up getting mugged or shanked just from wearing the wrong sports jersey to the wrong game. A friend of mine saw this happen firsthand leaving an Eagles game in Philadelphia a few years ago when an elderly man in a Cowboys jersey got stabbed on the subway after the game.

While, yes, danger can be found anywhere, I’m referring to those danger-seeking adrenaline junkies who base jump from skyscrapers, walk along a barely-there ledge on the side of a cliff, surf shark-infested waters, or bungee jump over jagged rocks. Now, don’t get me wrong, I understand the whole adrenaline rush and everything, but still, you have to draw the line somewhere, right? I saw a TikTok video the other day where a person jumped off a boat and into a group of sharks he and friends had just been feeding. What about those people who run and flip from rooftop to rooftop? “Parkour!” in the words of Michael Scott from The Office. If the whole situation goes south, it can mean certain death, permanent maiming, or dismemberment. Okay, yeah, I get that THAT is part of the excitement, but seriously? It begs the simple question… what the hell?

Just recently,  I watched a documentary on people who go “caving” as well, which is exploring the darkest, tightest caves they can find. I don’t know about all of that, but I do know that I’ve seen at least three horror movies that have me strongly convinced that journeying down into these deep, dark, unexplored places is a genuinely bad idea, not to mention anxiety-inducing. I’m already claustrophobic as it is so the last thing I want to do is wedge myself between two slabs of stone a hundred feet down in some pitch-black cavern where mutant wall-hugging monsters may or may not live.

Some of you may be reading this and thinking, “I kind of like some of those dangerous hobbies,” and if so, more power to you and safe travels! Perhaps younger me may have been a bit more adventurous when it comes down to risking my safety for a little bit of excitement, and let’s be honest, the world belongs to the younger generation. I’m reminded of this every time bands like Mötley Crüe, Nirvana, or Red Hot Chili Peppers come up on the classic rock playlist. Just know that some of you have some of us shaking our heads as we watch your antics and wonder what in the hell you were thinking getting into that predicament.

Hobby safely, my friends. And if you need me, I’ll be on the couch with a book, some wine, and a show queued up on Netflix.

that’s a big nope from me, thanks

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Spinning in Circles

Since 2022 is about 75% over, I figured it was time to start making progress on my New Years’ resolutions! My first one was to cut down on my alcohol intake, but have you seen what’s happening in the world on any given day? Yikes! Yeah, that one got thrown to the wayside almost immediately.

Next, I wanted to cut down on unnecessary spending. Not usually a problem because I don’t spend much on myself, but still. It’s difficult because “unnecessary” is such a subjective word. Some people might say that buying an iced coffee every time you leave your apartment is unnecessary, but I say it is actually a part of my ethnicity as I discovered recently on Ancestry.com. Iced coffee is in my blood.

So, I settled on my last resolution: exercise more. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I hate my body or how I look at all. I’m very much an advocate for body positivity, being comfortable in the skin you’re in, or whatever other Pinterest quote that comes to mind. I’d just like to stop getting handed weight-loss pamphlets when I go to the doctor for a sore throat. And since I’m not giving up the very things that contribute to my cushy padding, I might as well try to work it off.  I mean, it sounds good in theory, right?

Entering gym culture as a newbie is extremely intimidating and overwhelming – there are SO many options: CrossFit, Pilates, Barre, oh my! Or you can just go rogue and walk around the weight room pretending you know what you’re doing until “Chad” who has more muscles than the Hulk, mansplains how to do a bicep curl. Cool, Chad, I thought this was the “judgment free zone.” So, I settled on trying out some classes because at least there, I would be intentionally seeking out advice, unlike the unsolicited variety from the likes of dear old Chad.

Spin classes have always intrigued me because I love the thought of losing weight while sitting down. But they are expensive. Because of my aforementioned iced coffee addiction, I’m not exactly swimming in the cash, so I had to find a reasonably priced option to start my fitness class journey, and this studio near my condo offered one week FREE. Perfect, exactly what I could afford and more importantly, what I was willing to put into my fitness journey.

I signed up for my first class called, “Britney vs. Christina” even though I’m not really a fan of pitting women against each other. Then I realized I had nothing to wear. I don’t think the ratty sweats that are older than my children were going to cut it. So I went online and spent just over $300 on leggings and matching tank tops with sayings on them like, “biker gang,” ”ride and shine,” and “they see me spinnin, they hatin.” I was ready!

When I got to the studio, I quickly learned that my quirky graphic tank top was not enough. These spin people were intense! I saw people velcro strapping on these funky looking shoes and carrying around monogrammed sweat towels… and stretching?! I have never once stretched to just sit down. I mean, what the hell? Who does that?

I tried getting on a bike towards the back of the room, cause, you know, raging introvert.  But apparently that was “Susan’s bike” even though there were no name tags anywhere on that thing, so I ended up having to get on a bike in the front and center of the room. Ugh.

And then, wouldn’t you know it, I couldn’t even get on the damn thing. I’ve ridden a regular bike before, so I know how to mount a bike, in case you’re wondering. But these bikes are well, different. Our overly peppy instructor, Sasha, must have seen the complete and utter confusion across my face because she came and helped me adjust the bike to the appropriate height for me to hop onto the most uncomfortable seat I have ever placed my butt on, and I’ve even flown across the country on Spirit airlines. Seriously, who makes these seats? Someone who has never been handed a weight-loss pamphlet from a doctor, that’s for sure.

Sasha abruptly screamed through her headset that it was time for the class to begin, which almost startled me off the bike, but I didn’t quite fall off and I was able to clamber back on… reminiscent of that time I almost fell off a horse and had to scramble back on, legs and arms flailing, or else be squashed. I’ve also taken a couple of serious tumbles off bikes which are, shall we say, not fun. Now, I don’t think a spin bike would squash me like a 1200-pound Warmblood or toss me head over heels down a shale-lined lane like a mountain bike, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

Then, just as I had settled back into the god-awful seat, Britney Spears, “Toxic” began to blast over the loudspeakers in the too-dark room. For the first two minutes, a song that I have loved for way too many years turned into torture. Every spin class I’ve ever seen online shows folks happily smiling and loving life. This was not my experience. And this was just a warm-up?? For the last chorus of the song, Sasha, in an all-too-happy voice, told the class we could “freestyle” ride and “do whatever we want,” so I got up off my bike and walked over to the snack machine in the lobby.

As I sat on the ground eating a Snickers, I suddenly realized what their slogan “you’re not you when you’re hungry” meant on a spiritual level. I wasn’t me. I was at a spin class for goodness sakes. I could still hear Sasha in the studio encouraging the class to, “do whatever you want!” and I knew that this, right here, was exactly what I wanted to be doing. But, having spent so much money on spin class gear, I realized that it would’ve been cheaper to just sit at home on my couch and eat a Snickers than on the lobby floor of this spin class studio. It was over a $300 candy bar at that point. Who has that kind of money?

Why do they even have candy bars at a gym anyways? I guess that’s the circle of life, and capitalism. So, I left the spin studio to head back to my apartment, stopping on the way home for an iced coffee, because I have priorities. While sipping my drink and listening to the B-52s, I packed up the spin gear and sent it back to Amazon where it belonged. Existential crisis averted.