Run, Jane, Run! Sweat! Sweat! Sweat!

By Jody Worsham, Jan. 2011

All rights reserved for pink spandex

I recently wrote some gym rules for my friend Jim who is going to his new gym. In fairness, I think I should include some rules for my friend Jane.

First, Jane, do not sign a contract for the gym for more than one month unless you think guilt will be a good motivator. You know, the way you are when you go to an All You Can Eat Buffet. You figured you paid for it so you should eat everything in sight, hence the need for a gym.

Second, while spandex is not Jim's friend, it could be yours provided the garment is constructed in the same way as Michelin tires; steel radials. Anything less than steel can cause a major spandex blow-out, especially if you try lifting weights. Not pretty.

Third, like Jim, you need to avoid vegetables before a workout, but you also need to add dairy to that list. Nothing says bloating like milk and cheese at your age. You definitely don't want You-Know-Who asking when you're due!

Fourth, no matter how hard the exercises, how heavy the weights, do not make any sounds while you are working out. Plaster those collagen, botoxed lips shut; otherwise you will sound like a hippopotamus in mating mode…or a really bad porno-for-fat-people movie.

Fifth, carry a bottle of Fiji water around with you. Yes, I know it is $6 a bottle. Just buy one for the bottle and keep filling it from the tap at home. You will look informed and nobody will know the difference.

Sixth, wear make-up to the gym, but make sure it is water-proof, smear-proof, sweat-proof, and drip proof. If you really are planning on sweating, pardon me perspiring, I suggest a long sleeve top so you can tape bars of soap (preferably Irish Spring) under your arm pits. Not only will you smell better, but when you work up lather, you know it's time to take a break.

Seventh, X marks the spot. Most gyms now have those heart fibrilater boxes on the wall in case of heart attacks. The instructions say to place the electrodes on women just below the breast. Unless you want them super charging your belly button, I suggest you make a big X on your spandex top where your breasts used to be.

Eighth relates to mirrors. Avoid them. If one look in the mirror at home sent you to the gym, imagine that sight reflected back and forth off multiple mirrors. You don't want to go into cardiac arrest the first day, especially if you haven't yet marked the spot.

If the gym experience doesn't work out, you can sell your cars and vacuum cleaners, fire the maid, carry out your own garbage, hang clothes on the solar dryer (clothes line) and literally run errands yourself. Results are the same, just no spandex.

Gym Rules for Jim

By Jody Worsham, Jan. 2011

All rights reserved for publishing "Emily Post Goes to the Gym!"

A writer friend of mine penned some etiquette rules for those who are following through on New Year's Resolution #5 "Get into Shape". However, I feel he has missed some very basic rules that I wish to add for my friend Jim at the gym.

First, Jim, I know you are on this health kick with your gym membership and healthier eating styles but just let me give you a word of caution. DO NOT eat the broccoli and cauliflower salad three hours before you go to the gym, especially at your age. Impeding explosions of that magnitude could rattle the windows in nearby stores and would certainly evacuate the premises in record time.

Along those same lines, if you are beefing up with protein lay off the beans on gym day or at least take your Beano or there will be no gym left.

Secondly, do not go to the gym on the same day you are eating your last high fructose, fried junk food, taco-double-cheese-burger, banana split with a triple vanilla shake before forsaking all that for healthier foods. Trying to do a sit up with all that in your stomach is a no no!

Third, see your doctor before undertaking anything strenuous like opening a glass paneled door. Ambulance sirens and paramedics entering a gym about the time other people are arriving is a big turn off. Try to schedule your heart attacks before or after you leave the gym.

Fourth, what you wear to the gym, Jim, is very important. Spandex is not your friend, I don't care how cute the salesgirl was at Academy, do not buy spandex. If you are tempted, remember the hot air balloon festival you saw last summer and visualize yourself as the human version of the Kodak Hot Air Balloon.

Fifth, should you ever get to the point that you actually break a sweat, bring several towels, wear one on your head, one around your neck, two around your ankles, and two around your elbows. That way, when you pass out, you have some additional padding when you hit the floor and you won't leave a big puddle.

Sixth, avoid looking in the mirrors, especially at your age with your body. Not a pretty sight. Remember, objects in the mirror may appear larger… and usually are…and could cause undue stress on your heart.

Seventh, wear ear buds while playing your i-pod or mp3 player. Have your children program it with encouraging music but tell them to avoid "Eye of the Tiger", "Chariots of Fire", or the theme from Bonanza. You could get caught up in the music and exceed your limit. Start with some quiet elevator music.

Eighth, do no take pictures of your grandchildren with you to the gym because a) there are no pockets in your sweat suit and b) digging around in your suit then pulling out pictures of your grandchildren to share is just weird.

Ninth, and this is the most important, label all your clothing with your name and next of kin. Better yet, have it printed on your sweat shirt so that it is easily accessible to anyone who finds a sweaty, towel wrapped, overweight old man flopped over the exercise bike. Be considerate!

Follow these simple nine rules, Jim and I'm sure you will be considered the most polite person ever to visit the gym…at least once.

 

Noah and the RV

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved to fund Fire the Weather Widget!

Since the kids were out of school today, we took advantage of the long weekend and went to Shreveport with our RV right after the kindergarten Olympic basketball game on Saturday. According to the Weather Widget, it was to be warm and sunny for the weekend. IT RAINED NON-STOP FOR 2 DAYS. I don't think the kids have ever watched so much TV or played so many video games.

At one point they asked if they couldn't please do something else. I gave them some tin foil I had removed from the windows so I could see how close the rising water was to our RV. They began making boats out of tin foil followed by 30 minutes of rule interpretation before the Tin Foil Regatta began. I was enjoying all this until I heard the five-year-old ask where the motor would go. Water? Electricity? Motor? Fortunately the nine-year-old said motors weren't allowed.

They put water in the bath tub and had a competition to see whose boat could hold the most coins before sinking. I was promised by the nine-year-old that she would return my $2 in change, which never happened. She claimed coin sinking victory but I think she cheated. She gave him quarters and she took the dimes. After two coins, his boat sank but hers was still afloat after four dimes.

I would like to think that they were learning something about water displacement and weight with this experiment but I think the nine-year-old just learned how to bilk me out of my change, cheat the five-year- old, and claim Tin Foil Regatta Championship for herself.

With these skills, I fear she may be headed for a career in politics.

Slap, Thwap, Slap, Thwap…Round Ball

By Jody Worsham

All rights reserved to purchase a Frito Pie

I have done the soccer thing and the t-ball thing but none of those prepared me for Little Dribblers. No, that does not refer to the toddlers in the church nursery or the Senior Citizen Soup Supper. I'm talking about pint sized basketball. Competitive pint sized basketball. Small school competitive pint sized basketball.

If you have ever seen the movie "The Hoosiers", add about a hundred people to the town, chop the players down to about 42 inches in height, put them in elementary school, throw in a few girls on the kindergarten team and you have Little Dribbler Basketball. Since my five-year-old had never seen a basketball game, I thought it wise to take him to one before his game the next day.

It has been about fifty years since I attended a high school basketball game so I expected some changes, and there were a few. There was no longer a key hole painted on the gym floor where you lined up for free throws. They didn't have a jump ball after a tie ball. The uniforms were baggy and down to their knees and there were no Frito Pies at the concession stand. But everything else was as I had remembered.

The parking lot, when we arrived, was packed. This was the first home game. Everybody was there. I had forgotten the level of hometown support there is in a small school. When we finally got to the gym, a retired teacher friend of mine was there selling tickets, supporting the team, chatting with all the kids and the kids of the kids she had taught.

When we entered the gym I heard that familiar slap thwap slap thwap, screach, screach. Someone was dribbling the ball down the court. No artificial, manmade floor can compare to the sound of a basketball hitting that super polished hardwood floor or basketball shoes screeching across it. It is the sound of the game. As I scanned the crowded stands for a place to sit, I noticed every age was represented there from babies all the way up to great-grandparents. It wasn't just the parents of the kids who were playing that I saw. The community had come to see their team play. The other half of the stands were full of the visiting team's fans, again a great mixture of ages. What was that line in "Hoosiers"? Last one out of town, turn out the lights!

At half time the nine-year-old asked "Is there a restaurant here?" "Sort of", I said, "it's called a concession stand". "Do they have pizza?" the five-year-old wanted to know. "They have basketball food" and with that I was off to the concession stand. The high school students were bustling around taking money and shouting orders back to the parents who were piling chips with gooey cheese and jalapenos for nachos, dipping corny dogs out of the fryer, flipping burgers, and fishing giant dill pickles out of gallon jars. The smells hadn't changed in fifty years.

My field trip to show the five-year-old a live high school game had taken me full circle to my high school basketball days. The only thing missing was the Frito Pie.

Oooooooh, Sam! My, My!

By Jody Worsham
All rights reserved because I am, somewhat.

Some people think I am addicted to Wally-Word but I live out in the country and it's too far to go home between ballet lessons, violin lessons, Girl Scouts, and basketball practice so I come to Wally-World. I find lots of last-minute per cent-off-while-supplies-last bargains because of that. Needless to say I have enough Christmas wrapping paper and decorations to last till 2025, also cat litter in case I ever get a cat.

I note changes at Wally-World the way some people note the seasonal changes by watching birds migrate south, or the falling leaves. It may be August, but I know fall is near because all the Halloween costumes are already on display right next to the Thanksgiving table cloths and straw cornucopias. By October the garden center is decked out in Christmas decorations and those foot massagers that only appear once a year.

Even though I have no idea the actual date of the game, I know it is nearly time for Super Bowl Sunday because the seasonal aisles right in the center of the store, closest to the registers that are never open, are jam packed with things other than marked down Christmas items. And this brings me to a point of contention I have with my store of choice regarding their aisle closest to the entrance door.

No matter which entrance I use, or which random row of nested carts I select, I will always find the car with the three good wheels and the one flat wheel. As I wobbled down the aisles next to the closed registers I noticed the marketing theme did not seem to center on Super Bowl Sunday but on physical fitness, perhaps due to the number one New Year's Resolution "Get into better shape". I noted the yoga fitness mats, the Gatorade, the vitamins, wheat germ, the protein bars, that five hour energy shot drink, and a rather large area devoted to Epson Salts. Then, at the very end of the aisle, there was a rather large display for an item that is usually discreetly placed on the lower shelf near the pharmacy counter.

What were those doing here? At the front of the store? Among the build a better body items? Am I such a prude? Ok, that's a yes. Had corporate Wally-World marketing researchers been hit with too many ads for Viagra? Had the vice president in charge of End of the Aisle Display just become an avid member of Planned Parenthood? Or were the night time shelf-stockers playing a joke?

I didn't ask. I quickly left that aisle and headed for the check-out stand, the one that was open at the far end of the store. Once I got home I began to wonder. Did I really see what I thought I saw? Maybe it was an advertisement for condominiums and my eyesight was playing tricks on me. Maybe it was a display for key chains or hand warmers with the name of that UCLA football team emblazoned on the items. I had to be sure. Back to Wally-World with phone camera in hand.

Unfortunately, I was right the first time and now I looked like some kind of senior citizen pervert taking pictures of the not afore mentioned item. As I was leaving that aisle, I saw an employee in that very recognizable vest who was collecting cash drawers.

"Do you know what is on that aisle?' I asked.

"The one with all the health items on the clearance aisle?" she said.

They put them on clearance? "Yes." I gulped.

"Not surprising, got to get rid of them some way."

At least that's what I think she said. I was making a hasty exit as I contemplated the full ramifications of what I had heard, and before she could ask how many I wanted and burst out laughing.

Maybe I'll just hang out at the library from now on, in the cooking section.

Channeling Agatha

By Jody Worsham November 2010

All right reserved to pay for 1-800-Psyic phone bill

 

Clean G rated murder mysteries? Now that may seem like an oxymoron, a contradiction of some sort, but out there somewhere there has got to be more writers like Agatha Christie, Sherlock Holmes, Perry Mason, and John Gresham. I'd read Matlock if it were a book. I'm so desperate for a good clean story about stabbings, shootings, poisonings, or strangulations, I've started to watch "Murder, She Wrote" reruns.

I've seriously thought about dialing that California psychic hotline to see if there is another Agatha on the horizon. Surely there is a writer/mystic out there who is capable of channeling Agatha's creative spirit and give us a clean G rated murder mystery.

This all started when as a child I began reading the Bobbsey Twins, Nancy Drew, and the Hardy boys. I don't remember any murders in their books, but there was always a puzzle, a mystery to solve. In the summertime, I would read a book a day. Television did not start broadcasting until one o'clock in the afternoon (I know, hard to believe) and if the book was very intriguing, I would read right up until the last page or I fell asleep, whichever came first.

I crave good mysteries with interesting characters, plausible plots, twists and turns without the R rated language, bedroom sex, or the depraved. I just want a good clean murder, not nightmares. Where are those writers?

JoAnn Fluke puts a neat spin on her mysteries, a who-dun-it with recipes thrown in along the way. The main character runs a cookie shop. Not the most challenging mysteries but then there is a wholesome love-triangle and the recipes are my kind of cooking. "Just pack the flour down in the measuring cup". The little cooking footnotes are also fun. "Don't have any chocolate chips, just chop up the leftover chocolate Halloween candy or grab a couple of Hershey bars, the more chocolate, the better." That's my kind of recipe.

I'd go back and re-read my favorite mysteries but even at my age, after a few pages, I remember who-dun-it, even if I can't remember the plot exactly. So I say "Rise up you decent G rated murder writers and give us a good mystery I can sink my rapier sharp bookmark into!"

Oh, Agatha, I do miss thee!

    

New Year's Resolutions I can Keep

By Jody Worsham, Jan. 2011

All rights reserved for a new calendar

Everyone starts the New Year with a long list of resolutions. Most of these resolutions will be broken by next weekend. However, after reading about a zillion motivational books, I have come to a great discovery. Nothing breeds success like success; therefore, I have created a list of New Year's resolutions that I know I can keep. In fact, I am so confident that I can keep these that I am going to reward myself with a seven-day-after Christmas cruise starting December 31 and I am booking it today.

Here's my list.

1. I resolve to buy something that will immediately go on sale the next day.
   
2. I resolve to gain at least two pounds before Thanksgiving.
   
3. I resolve to buy a gift card, then put it somewhere safe and forget where I put it.
   
4. I resolve to try a new recipe and make no substitutions in ingredients at least once.
   
5. I resolve to exercise one time.
   
6. I resolve to wear something in May that the cleaners obviously shrunk in February.
   
7. I resolve to buy the hottest new electronic game/printer/e-book/phone that will be outdated by the time I get it to the cash register.
   
8. I resolve to assemble something myself and have extra parts left over when I'm finished.
   
9. I resolve to find the on/off/record button on the new TV remote.
   
10. I resolve to laugh out loud every day.
    

Happy New Year's Resolutions!