My Painful Tootsies

I must admit that I am ashamed. Ashamed that my butt was kicked -- good and hard -- by my aerobics teacher.

Normally I wouldn't be ashamed to have a rough time in class. Wednesday is my "double night" - two classes back to a back for a total of an hour and 45 minutes. It's a tough regime on days when I'm feeling good. And today, not only am I tired and haven't been feeling well, but my feet hurt. (I am this close to actually being my Tante Emma who swore she could tell when a storm was coming because her arthritis acted up.)

So, it's not just that I had a tough class. It's that I had a tough class and had to take a lot of breaks even when my aerobics instructor held up strong and cheerful.

Again, normally, this would not be a big deal. But let me tell you this.

MY AEROBICS INSTRUCTOR IS 8 AND A HALF MONTHS PREGNANT.

The woman is huge. Well, no, she's tiny. But her belly is gi-freaken-normous. I can't imagine that she's still upright, much less doing front and side kicks that shame a former dance major. And doing it all with a smile.

I really hope that she gets paid really, really well.

Stuff and the Urge to Nest

A friend and co-blogger Sapphire Dakini sent me a link to an article today about a woman who is selling almost all of her possessions on eBay. The article got me to thinking about stuff -- why we think we need it and what that thinking means.

It's especially timely for me because I've spent the last week moaning about how - despite my recent (albeit paltry) raise - I am STILL broke. Yes, I keep telling myself the Universe always provides and I know that if I concentrate on the scarcity of money that I will have just that - scarcity of money. But I'm finding it hard to keep this correctly in perspective.

It's also especially timely for me because despite this fixation - ok, obsession - about money, all I really want in the world right now is a new couch.

I've had the couch I've got now for almost 10 years. It's comfortable but it's ugly. It's faded, stained, sunbleached and lumpy. The cushions refuse to be plumped. Even the slipcover I've gotten for it is ratty and tatty. The couch lived with me in Belmont, made the move to NH, and was my HQ in Northampton, since I had no room for a table, armchair, or any other furniture.

Now, I could easily go out and buy myself a new couch. It wouldn't put me that far behind in the credit card department and it would definitely make me happy.

But why?

Wouldn't I be happier being less insecure about stability? Wouldn't getting my basic needs covered and cared for be the wiser decision? Shouldn't the immaterial, the ethereal, be more fulfilling than the physical? And even though I recognize this, why am I still so damn tempted to give in to the baser desire? (Yes, I am still talking about a couch....)

I don't have answers for these contradictions. And for now anyway it's a moot point, since I've got no time to go couch shopping. But I do find it interesting that right now - at this particular point in my life - I'm feeling the need to surround myself with STUFF.

The Blah's

Today is Easter Sunday. Ooh bah. All this really means to me is that stores are closed and I've consumed too much chocolate for my own good lately.

But the rest of the world seems to be out, enjoying life and being joyous. And I'm just kind of feeling blah.

I think part of it was because there was no yoga this a.m. Class was cancelled and so I took advantage of the free time and slept in and cleaned the apartment. And even though I'm glad for the rest, it both messed up my usual schedule (oh, how we Earth types like our routines) and left me with lots of unspent nervous energy.

And, while my body was absolutely crying out for some downtime after 10 days without a rest, I've got the cloud of this upcoming stinking procedure hanging over my head. Not only will I not want to workout, I won't be allowed to workout. Okay, sure, the doctor won't know if I do or I don't, but my recovery will be a heckuva lot longer if I do. And that kinda defeats the purpose. So I've been trying to cram in extra exercise every which way I can.

So, instead of enjoying this beautiful day, I'm sitting here projecting and feeling cranky. Pretty dumb, huh?

Reminds me, rather, of a former priest at my old parish. Came out one Easter Sunday to give the sermon and basically trotted out a fire and brimstone lesson of how "it ain't all bunnies and baskets." Which is true in the long run, but sometimes it's best to focus on the bunnies and baskets and leave the future to itself.

Which, ironically, is the point of yoga.

Ooooh, I'm just too deep for my own damn good.

I'll shut up now.

Happy Anniversary!

April 6 marks one year of Mr. Zips and I dating. I'm not real huge on the whole anniversary thing because, really, I love him no more - or less - today than yesterday or tomorrow. And why spend money on frivolities when I'd rather save up and go away for a weekend some time this summer?

But I did manage to find THE PERFECT CARD.

(Front) I think I might be a squirrel. Because I like you and you're a big nut.
(Inside) Also, I'm sometimes skittish and indecisive.

With Great Power ...

Comes great paychecks.

OK, so it's a bastardization of an immortalized phrase, but you get my point.

I got a call from Napolean tonight at 5:30 p.m. I was one foot out the door to yoga. I answered it. I. Am. Dumb.

I mentioned to Napolean that I was on my way out to yoga. The unspoken suggestion to "make it fast."

To which he responded that he was, in fact, technically "on holiday." (He likes to use the Anglo-Irish terminology. Makes him feel special, I suppose.) As if to suggest that this was a special phonecall - him taking time out to reprimand me or bolster me or whatever he thought in his mind that he was doing. That because he was working on holiday, I should be working after hours too.

But the reality is, he has the corner office. He has the title. And the responsibility. And, I dare say, the paycheck.

Of course, one should not work hard solely for the paycheck. One should work for the peace of mind, the self-worth, the esteem. But the paycheck doesn't hurt.

I do work hard. And I do take work seriously. But it's not my life and it's not my sole purpose for being.

And so I'm going to have to work long and hard at it, but I will not feel guilty for going to yoga tonight.

Namaste.