Remember this guy? He is
yelling at me. On Slattern Day in the blog. With a sheet of ice out there on
the roads. We heard a prediction of “five inches of ice.” How could that even
happen? (Don’t tell me! There are things I don’t want to know.) Well, the less-than-five-inch
sheet of ice caused me to go around the block and come home this morning,
instead of continuing on to my last zumba class of the season. I was glad I
could stop at the stop sign and turn into the proper lane, and my own driveway.
On my way around the
block, part of my introverted mind (the neocortex, or “new brain”) was firmly
attentive to the road and the brakes. But part of it was also spinning titles
for this blog entry. The first, before I realized just how slick it was, was “ReZumbaed”
(meaning “zumba, resumed.") Yes, I know. Not very funny. And strangely
convoluted, also probably due to my essential introversion. I am reading Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a WorldThat Can’t Stop Talking, by Susan Cain. I feel so externally validated! So comforted,
so relieved. Anyhoo, that was when I thought I was resuming zumba this morning.
This quickly changed to “Re:Zumba,”
as in “regarding the matter of zumba,” just as quickly discarded. “Zumba: Epic Fail” skated by, but I didn’t
want to imply the failure of zumba itself, only my personal epic fail. And then
“No Zumba For You” reared its ugly head behind a deli counter in my mind, via
the “Soup Nazi” from Seinfeld.
So, yes, I did not make it
to zumba class this morning. Nor did I make it to the special, extra, holiday
zumba class offered to Saturday participants this past Thursday, which would
have allowed me to make up one of the other classes I failed (or forgot) to attend.
But I forgot.
Instead, I was making a
dreaded Christmas shopping trip to Target, a store I haven’t visited in over a
year, I’d guess. So, of course, I go there when Target shoppers have had their
credit cards hacked. Fortunately, I just missed the hacking period. I hope. It
is the season of hope, right?
Little did I know, when I
wrote of my “Slow Waltz” yesterday that I would be going so slowly down the literal
road this morning. Not, thank goodness,
figuratively waltzing on my half-new tires. So, I will “Rezumba Quiet” (heh heh) this morning, on my couch, maybe, wrapped in a cuddly sherpa (blanket,
not a guy from Nepal).
It’s the shortest day of the year, so I might be there
all day. I can write Christmas cards from inside a sherpa, right? And it's the longest night of
the year. Here is some more to read, Re: Winter Solstice, at Escape Into Life, excerpts from the
journals of Chris Al-Aswad, founding editor, and from a book he was reading, The Happiness Hypothesis. More stuff
about how the brain works.
I mention snow angels.
Around here it might be mud angels, as it’s been raining. Or sheet of ice
angels. Or Sherpa angels.
3 comments:
Be sure to listen to Susan Cain's TED Talk.
I don't know, the whole "being inside a sherpa" thing still gives me the willies. But we have enough snow to make and abominable snow sherpa here in Wisconsin, definitely big enough for you to get in (and light a fire, play pool, watch big-screen TV, and enjoy a full bar while you're at it)!
Sounds cozy, Cathy!
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