Do You Love Me?

Water aerobics early this morning meant walking into water that was slightly warmer than the ambient temperature of 66 degrees Fahrenheit. It wasn’t bad as long as I could keep my body submerged. But brrr!

When our beloved T., keeper of the music, turned on the tunes, all became right in the world. First song up? “Do You Love Me,” the song released by the Sonics in 1965 and covered by quite a few artists including David Hasselhoff. (heaven help us.). The movie Dirty Dancing reminded everyone that it was a worthy song. Yes it is.

Pretty soon I forgot about the cold and bopped my way across the pool. Do you love me? You bet I do.

Peace, people!

Splishing and A’Splashing

My birthday’s coming up soon. I’ll be 66. Or as I like to say, Sixty Freaking Six. I’m not complaining. Much.

At the risk of calling some awful punishment down on myself, I have to say I feel really great right now. I’m taking an early morning water aerobics class four times a week, and while I have occasional aches and pains, the time I spend in the water makes me feel like I’m thirty-something. Almost.

In the water I’m gracefully buoyant and beautiful. The second I begin ascending the steps out of the pool, I turn into an ungainly gnome. It’s magic. Dark magic. If only I could live in the pool. Unfortunately, I’m trying to finish book four in the Happy Valley series and the laptop doesn’t like to get wet.

Still, I think I’m making a fairly smooth transition into the second half of my 60’s. I’m just gonna keep on splishing and a’splashing.

Peace, people!

Going Commando

This post might come under the Too Much Information category, so I’ll forgive you if you want to tune out.

I went to water aerobics this morning. I’d gotten up early and donned my two-piece swimsuit, pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt as a cover up. The water aerobics class didn’t begin until ten, so I went to my favorite coffee shop and worked on my current manuscript, managing to wrack up 1200 plus words in two hours. Not bad for a Saturday.

My watch alerted me when it was time to head to the pool and I arrived at Trousdale aquatics center with a few minutes to spare. My plan was to burn a ton of calories during my class, pack them back on at Sweet Pea Cafe, and then arrive back at Doright Manor before Studly Doright made it home from golf so I’d have my choice of nap locations. Dibs on the sofa!

About midway though froggy jumps, I realized I’d forgotten to pack my bra and undies. Hm. So as soon as I got out of the pool I stretched out on one of the loungers, soaking up the sun. But the clock was ticking. If I wanted that sofa nap I was going to need to take drastic measures.

In the locker room I pulled my T-shirt over my sort of soggy swimsuit top, but the bottoms were still really wet. So, I did something I can’t remember ever having done in my life. I pulled my jeans up over my naked bum and went commando.

Even though there was no way anyone could possibly tell I had no knickers on, I felt like I was wearing a scarlet letter on my forehead: C for commando or B for breezy. I gobbled down my lunch and scurried back to my car, then raced home, pulling into the driveway just minutes ahead of the competition.

And yes. I got the sofa—but only after I added undies to my ensemble. Going commando isn’t going to be my new norm. I promise.

Peace, people!

Old Dog; New Knowledge

Have you ever learned something new that rocked your world in the best way possible? That’s what happened to me this morning

It all came about because a couple of months ago I found an amazing water aerobics class populated by the smartest, sweetest, funniest, most beautiful women in Tallahassee. And they’ve let me into their queendom! They just didn’t know what a dolt I can be.

Every class session I work as hard as I can while having as much fun as I can, and I’d begun wishing I could keep track of my water workouts on my Apple Watch. But like a dutiful fool, prior to class I’d remove my watch and store it in my pool bag.

Then today, one of the lovely women in the group asked, “Why are you taking your watch off?”

“Because it’s not waterproof.”

“Is so.”

“Is not!”

It was an intensely mature conversation.

She then proceeded to show me how to activate this little water drop 💧 icon that keeps water from getting into the works and mucking everything up. At least that’s how it was explained to me. Technical AND mature.

Then when the workout’s over, one simply removes the watch and twists the knob on the side until an image of dissipating droplets fills the screen. Bye bye water! It’s just cool beyond belief.

So someone please tell me I’m not the only one who didn’t know about this feature. What’s that? Crickets?


Peace, people!

Oldie #1: A Thigh Slapping Good Time

Shehanne Moore encouraged me to republish some of my older stuff on WordPress. Well, it doesn’t get much older than this piece. I give you my second blog post on WP.

A Thigh Slapping Good Time

Whoever said that endorphins released during exercise can give you a high must’ve been smoking something. All I get from exercising is tired.

I’ve put on a number of pounds over the years. At least 10 for each of our many moves. Granted, I go through periods of weight loss, otherwise I’d have added 170 lbs. over the last 38 years of wedded bliss.

After our most recent move to Tallahassee, I weigh more than I ever have. It’s a loneliness thing. I know no one, therefore, I eat. Great excuse, eh? Unfortunately my clothes are not fitting anymore and no one wants to see me naked. Trust me. Even my cats have expressed their disgust. Where others might see hair balls, I see only revulsion.

It was time for a lifestyle change. So, in addition to trying to eat healthier foods–lots of fresh vegetables, fruits, salmon, etc., I decided to get more active. But that means exercise. Damn. My eldest sister-in-law, we’ll call her “The Pretty One” or TPO, for short, suggested a water aerobics class.


I searched the websites in Tallahassee and found that several city parks offered water aerobics. On Wednesday I made my first visit. I knew I was in trouble when the instructor, Madame de Sade, told me, “First time? Don’t worry, it’s a work at your own pace kind of class.”

What she meant was, “I’m going to run, run, run in the water and you are going to wear a blister in your left big toe trying to keep up with me.” All we did was run. Forward, backward, sideways, we ran with her screaming, “Run, ladies! Run like your lives depend on it!”


I didn’t want to go back, but I figured Wednesdays must be leg days, so I returned on Thursday. Same. Damn. Thing. Now the blister on my big toe is bigger than my big toe. It’s formed an alliance with my ankle and they both scream for relief every time I take a step.

I looked at the lady on my right. “I’m blowing this joint tomorrow.”

She nods. “I’m in,” she says.

So today, we went to a different park. There was music playing when we arrived. The instructor gave us a smile and a hug and welcomed us to the group. We only ran once before launching into a series of routines that left me panting and smiling and, well, high! My endorphins and I can’t wait to return to class on Monday.


Peace, People!

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