9am At The YMCA

Never go to the YMCA at 9 am. Every mother within a 25 mile radius is there. The children are in school or on the bus. The spouse is at work, making money so they can keep the YMCA membership. Soap operas do not start for a few hours. These are the days I try hard to forget!

My children are in Middle School and High School, so they are somewhat dependant. I can “get away” to the gym while they are home if I need to. My office is in my home, so my work hours are flexible. I can go to the gym when it is convenient. Today, 9 am was convenient. But not any more.

I waited for an available treadmill (there are 12). I waited then for an available elliptical trainer (there are 7). Then for each of the 9 weight bearing machines that I use, I waited again. For each one. My hour long workout took close to 2 hours. And then I remembered how often I had to wait when I was in these women’s shoes.

So I will not go to the Y at 9 in the morning again. Why should I make a time-constrained woman wait for my machine, when I could show up a little earlier and get out of there faster? Besides, I’m spoiled and don’t like waiting in lines.

Adult Swimming Lessons

I took swimming lessons as a child – at least twice. And I failed. I cannot swim. I cannot save my self or my children. I cannot swim out to the raft unless I “doggy paddle.” So I sucked in a large breath and signed up for Adult Swimming Lessons at my local YMCA.

Expecting a group of 85 year old women and me (half their age), I slunk into the Y. I found 8 other men and women, all sizes, all ages, all nationalities, all swimming levels. And I had a blast.

After one lesson, I can float on my back and my front, even if I let go of the wall! I found that with good goggles, I can put my face in the water and blow bubbles! I can look at the bottom of the pool and hold my breath. I am a good kicker. I am in the “polliwog” group, and expect to graduate to a tadpole soon. Before long, I may even be a real toad! Although I don’t think that’s a real swimming category.

And the next day I went to the Y and brought my bathing suit, because I WANTED to swim! It’s fun! And I can do it. I failed as a child, and feared I would fail as an adult. My children urged me on, supported me, and even helped pick out my new bathing suit. Perhaps I should listen to my children more often.

In The Bread Drawer

After days of long consideration, a new blog has been born. The hardest part? What to call it.

I thought for hours. I pondered over what I consider interesting aspects of my life and work. I considered parts of myself and thought patterns as possible titles. I looked at my family and lifestyle. And then -- an epiphany. A1, my oldest daughter (14 years old), searched for the candy she had seen me eating only moments ago. "Where is it?" she begged from two rooms away. And the answer struck me as the perfect title: "In the bread drawer."

The bread drawer in my kitchen is sacred. My husband rarely opens it, because we do not use it to store bread (it molds too quickly because we forget about it). My children rarely open the drawer, for when they need something from the kitchen I tend to find it for them. And I only open it when I remember it's there.

It sits right in the middle of the cabinets in the island that sits in the center of my kitchen. It is surrounded by highly used drawers and cabinets. I stand directly in front of the drawer to do most of my "kitchen work". Yet we all forget it's there.

So it became the perfect place to hide things. Today I stashed the chocolate covered candies that I love, and when I opened the drawer, I found the vanilla filled cookies that I stashed there and had forgotten (they were stored in a covered container so they would not go stale when I forgot where I put them). So I was pleasantly surprised! I have also stashed money, gifts, jewelry, empty canisters, and more. It is the perfect place to hold an untold number of items of all types and sizes. Once in a while I clean it out and am always surprised at what I've forgotten was hidden.

So what better name to call the new blog than "In The Bread Drawer". Here I can stash all the thoughts that go round inside my head, and look back later to see what I've forgotten. This blog can hold anything. And it can only be found by those who are looking for the bread drawer.

So remember to look in the Bread Drawer, because you never know what you'll find. One thing is for certain though: you will never find what you expect -- bread.

Linda