Monthly Archive for July, 2012

My First Spin Class

I attended my very first ever spinning class this morning with my friend, Meredith.  I was warned ahead of time about the impending sore-bum, and when I saw Meredith bust out her inhaler and lay it with her sweat towel I had a brief (panick-y) inner monologue, but grabbed mine as well and propped it where I had seen her put hers.  She’s a regular so I had personal assistance doing all of the pre-adjustments to the seat and pedals.  I stretched a little and hoisted my bum as ungracefully as was possible onto my perch (those seats are high!!).  We hung out in the back of the room, so I had a view of the instructor and my fellow classmates.  The music started and I readied my little ears to absorb the directions and held on tight and off we went (or did not go as the bikes are stationery….).

My goals for this exercise were A) don’t fall off the bike B) don’t turn into a crying, asthmatic puddle and C) DON’T STOP PEDDLING  no matter how slow I am going.  I can truly say I enjoyed the music, I can truly say I was glad to have Meredith there for the “Oy Vey, this is HARD” looks I gave her.  I had a woman in a red shirt and long ponytail in front of me/slightly to the right who was … I will say extremely enthusiastic and energetic.  She was the one I watched (as well as the instructor) to see how fast I could be going??  But I swear if these bikes had had actual wheels and if hers had hit the ground, she would have sped off like the silver Delorean from Back to the Future, hit 88 miles per hour and been in another decade before the next beat of the song!  I did my best not to be a wuss about it, I stood, I (kind of) sprinted, I kept steady paces and proudly, I made it through the class.

Holy spandex cycling shorts, y’all – that is a workout!  Praise the Lord I did not melt off the spin bike and puddle on the floor.  I will say that my thighs are killing me already, and to get all specific and technical – the bones and muscles directly on either side of “ladytown” are obscenely sore, which is a weird weird feeling.  But overall, I think I might just add this to my gym class repertoire!  I wasn’t exactly in love while doing it, but it went by quickly and the feeling afterwords is total elation and a true “holy cow, I did it” feeling.  Sorry to say, though, that I was in no condition to mow the back yard when I got home (apologies to my husband).

So, go, my little spinners!  Burn those calories, work those muscles and go forth with (somehow) renewed energy.

This is what I felt like doing immediately post-spinning:

Ummmmm…EXCUSE ME??!!

Another bloggity?  I just did one last night, I know!  But I had to think about this one and ponder how I wanted to approach the story-telling of the event I’m about to share.  It just happened last night also, and I was freshly ticked off about it.  I’m not ticked off anymore, just embarrassed for the guy’s poor wife and sorry that one of our favorite restaurants lost the business of Mr. Doodoohead and his wife (though they gained our party of 9 in return!)

As I mentioned in my last post, yesterday was my mom’s birthday and we tried to rally the troops for a quick and easy birthday meal celebration.  We scooted over to one of our favorite places for dinner.  A family friendly joint, a place that serves a divine breakfast menu all day, a place that staffs people who know us and care about us and most importantly put up with our small herd of little boys (4 total, all under 4).  We were asked to wait just a moment while they pushed a couple tables together for us and grabbed a high chair for my littlest man and we were seated right away.  I noted a slightly older couple in a booth across the way and also noted the man’s eye roll as we ushered the kids into place and got everyone situated.  Moments after we were settled and the boys were occupied with cars, trains and a few games on the iPhone and iPad I watched Mr. Doodoohead rise, speak to his wife and wander off – I immediately turned to my mom and sis-in-law and said “I bet you a dollar he’s going to ask the waitress if they can move”.

The boys were really well behaved last night, they were engaged with one another and sharing the games and happy to be with their Gran & Miss Ilene.  On my honor, there was no obnoxious shrieking, utensil throwing, rude language or anything seriously offensive or disruptive going on at our table.  While I see Mr. Doodoohead still waiting around for someone to pay him some attention another large party (of adults) is seated at another long row table directly next to us.  They had folders and notebooks and it looked like a serious meal meeting was about to be had over there.

Anyway, Mr. Doodoohead finally catches the waitresses eye and just past the corner, where I can see her and hear him, he starts yelling at her about his annoyance at having us placed near him and his wife.  He is making such a scene that a manager and a chef come over to help manage the situation.  He yells about this not being a freaking daycare establishment, and he and his wife came in there to spend their damn money on a good meal and how dare they be inconvenienced with having a family nearby.  I rise from the booth and move closer, just listening, jaw on the floor, ready to defend my family and our right to eat there, too, should he turn his unwarranted wrath our way.  His wife is looking antsy now and has her purse ready and her drink (I guess thinking that they are still moving tables).  Mr. Doodoohead yells some more and refuses a table move, and gestures for his wife to follow.  She looks pretty damn mortified and scurries past me and he storms out with wife close behind.  I sit down, stunned.

Are.  You.  Kidding.  Me?

Dude, you are not at an exclusive 21 and up club.  Dude, you are not at a high end chop house.  Dude, you are not at your fancy country club in the private adults only dining room.  It is not Friday or Saturday date night at a more adult-type restaurant.  If it were any of those places, I would A) NOT have my children there and B) I’d understand the feelings.  I cherish my alone time with my hubby, too.  That combined with the fact that our motley crew was not being um…motley.  Dude, you have a big issue.  There’s a group of eight right next to us, so if it weren’t our group of 5 adults and 4 kids you’d still have the power meeting next door to be annoyed with.  We are at a family restaurant.  This area next to you is the only one available at this current moment where they can shove tables around and seat nine together.  I apologized to the manager and the waitress, not for my children, but for their lost business.  I was told in response that if that’s the way that man wants to act, then they’d rather not have his business.

I love our yummy little restaurant.  And we had a fabulous and deeeeee-licious dinner without Mr. Doodoohead, who I’m sure would have commented, huffed, puffed, sighed and glared at us all the way through his.  Your loss, you weiner.  And I hope your dinner elsewhere cost twice as much.