the first few days...

 As I promised some time ago, here is the first installment of my honeymoon memoir.

In July of 1968, my husband and I were joined in matrimony at an afternoon service in a lovely modern church which is now a parking lot.  My father walked me down the aisle and my soon to be mother in law wore pink for the last time in her life.  The service was followed by a punch and cake reception in the church basement.  Mints and nuts were also served.  At all our future parties my husband insisted that there be mints and nuts.   

Then we left on our honeymoon, the first of what became our annual cross country driving trips.  We were heading for Texas.  My new husband had worked as a civilian employee at White Sands for two years and wanted to show me Texas.  By a happy coincidence 1968 was the year of the Hemisfair in San Antonio so that was our first goal.  We started, as we began all of our trips, by getting lost.  We quickly found our way back to the interstate and on to the correct exit for our hotel somewhere in Illinois.  As they used to do in the old movies, I will draw a curtain across the first delightful night.  The next day we were on our way to Texas.  We had planned to camp some (using the same little green pup tent my girlfriend and I had borrowed from him for our trip west the year before).  Our first night of camping was as romantic as you can imagine.  We camped in a private camp ground at the back of a ranchers fields, alone in the trees beside a bubbling stream where we splashed and bathed and generally had a great time.

The next day we drove into San Antonio.  I was looking forward to seeing the Alamo, and suddenly there it was, right at the edge of the sidewalk.  I was expecting a parklike setting, but inside it did not disappoint.  Then on to our hotel where we had reservations for the next three nights.  When we got there we were informed that, because of the mass of people there for the Hemisfair, we would not be staying in the hotel.  Instead, we were given a small apartment in a nearby brand new apartment complex.  Not quite the same as the hotel but it seemed very nice, until our first fight.  Did I mention that we didn’t have air conditioning in our car, and Texas in July is hot? We were tired when we got to that apartment.  As we were settling in, Tom called to me that there weren’t any bath towels in the bathroom.  Since I was collapsed on the bed, I asked him, nicely I thought, to go down to the car and bring up some of the towels we had with us.  From the bathroom he said “No.”  I was shocked.  I’m afraid I may have gotten a little strident.  Finally, as he remained intransigent, insisting we didn’t need the towels, I tromped down the stairs (we were on the second floor) grabbed the towels from our car and brought them upstairs where I took them into the bathroom.  There I discovered several perfectly fine white towels in a variety of sizes hanging on the towel racks.  “Why did you tell me there weren’t any towels?” I shouted.  “I said there weren’t any bath towels.  These are all smaller.”  They were as large as any towels I had ever used, but evidently my new husband preferred bath sheets.  Who knew he was a towel snob?  Our next fight was nine years later, but that’s another story.  To be continued:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Any white bears out there?

 Once again my west coast brother has supplied me with something pleasant to think about, unlike the news which is sad and the weather which is confusing.  I drove through some gushing rain today, but my little car isn't dusty any more.  Today is International Polar Bear Day which makes sense because they do move around a lot, all north of the Arctic Circle of course, which, by the way, is a very cold but beautiful area to visit.  But don't get your hopes up about seeing the Northern Lights.  I haven't seen them yet although a friend whose daughter was living in Alaska for a while claims to have seen them and says they are quite spectacular.  I'll take her word for it.  Today is also National Protein Day.  I celebrated with a toasted cheese sandwich at Proximo's.  Yummy.  I hope those Polar Bears got to celebrate with salmon, even more yummy.  

a correction..;

 After last night's blog my west coast brother agreed with me about the cause of our rapid eating habits.  He remembers our oldest brother saying frequently during meals "Are you going to eat that?" Food was never wasted at our house.  Happily, our mother was a really good cook.  My brother also sent me a correction.  Yesterday was actually International SWORD Swallowers Day.  When he texted me yesterday he accidentally omitted the word 'sword.'  Actually, that makes a lot more sense than International Swallowers Day.  I mean almost everybody swallows, right? But very few swallow swords.  I have always been amazed at people who can do that but I have never been even slightly tempted to try it. It's on my list of "No thank you, never trying that."  Right up there with sky diving and bungee jumping.  I know, where's my sense of adventure, right?

a strange combination

 According to my west coast brother, today is "National Chocolate Covered Peanuts Day" and also "National All Eat Right Day."  It's also, in case you want another choice, "International Swallowers Day." I laughed at the chocolate covered peanuts because a joke in Hello, Dolly last night was the suitor who bought his girlfriend chocolate covered peanuts, still in the shell.  But I'm most intrigued about swallowers day.  I understand the international part. After all, people all over the world do swallow, and, in some places pretty interesting things.  Chocolate covered ants for example, which do not sound as tasty as chocolate covered peanuts.  But I do believe that some people are better swallowers than others.  A friend recently told me that he can't swallow large pills, which I find interesting because my husband couldn't swallow pills at all.  He chewed them up.  In fact he chewed all his food quite thoroughly.  Which really is the right way to eat.  I, on the other hand, tend to be a food swallower.  I blame this on my two 6'6" brothers.  It paid to eat fast at our dinner table.  My mother used to tease me because my favorite vegetables were peas.  I claimed it was the taste but she though I preferred them because I didn't need to chew them, they would just slide right down.  What a great food.  I can also swallow five pills at a time but I'm not one to brag.  

Hello, hello, hello....

I love a good musical, and I assume, after a really good musical, that I will be humming a tune from that play for days after.  This evening I saw Civic Theater's really excellent production of "Hello, Dolly" so beware, you will likely hear me humming the title song sometime next week.  Everything about this production was well done; the stage sets, the orchestra, the dancers!!!, the singers!!!! everything.  Amy Ross, who played Dolly, did an amazing job, as did all of the other major players.  On of my favorite young actors, Cassie Smith (we were in "The Children's Hour" together several years ago), now a senior at Bishop Dwenger, did a marvelous job of crying every time she was on stage.  It was a high energy performance and I do appreciate that.  You have two more chances to see it, tomorrow and Sunday.  The box office number is 260-424-5220.  

soft loud

 In the UK it's National Toast Day.  My west coast brother supplied this bit of information and commented on the reputation of the UK for rather bland food.  Actually, I've always had really good food in my few visits to the British Isles.  Even the Haggis served with suitable ceremony in Scotland was quite tasty. Of course it was washed down with Scotch.  A waitress later told me that they are required to include meat in it these days.  But the very best part of British cuisine, as far as I'm concerned, is that there is always brewed tea available.  Breakfast, lunch, tea, supper, there is always brewed hot tea.  When I ask for hot tea in a local restaurant (unless it's a Chinese restaurant) I'm likely to get hot water and a tea bag.  On my first stay in London, some years ago now, a friend and I had booked a room at Duke's Hotel.  I highly recommend it for many reasons but the best happened on the day we arrived.  We were early for our check in and our room wasn't quite ready, so the gracious lady at the front desk said "Won't you come into the parlor for some tea and biscuits while you wait?"  After an overnight flight that sounded like heaven to me, and when I sank into a comfy chair and was handed my cup of tea, I knew I had arrived in a new favorite place in the world.  By the way, they are just as generous with good hot tea in Australia.  No surprise there.

Once upon a time

 I belong to a memoirs group.  Once a week we gather either by Zoom or in person to take turns reading our weekly memoirs to each other.  It's always a fascinating variety of topics.  Many recollections of family life as you would expect, insights into career challenges, old family recipes, meeting new relatives, sports events and so much more.  At the end of the meeting we talk about ideas for next week's topics.  Today I told the group that I will be writing about my honeymoon this week.  I realized, as I thought about it that this would be too long for a blog, so here, as a teaser, is the outline. I will, from time to time publish a few of these mini-stories here.

road trip

getting lost

camping in the wild

San Antonio, the Alamo, the Hemisfair

towel fight

Mexican food

flash flood

Big Bend National Park

spiders

the Rio Grande

quick sand

out of gas

the race is on....

 My husband, bless him, had a theory.  If you can't find an item you're looking for, like a roll of duct tape or a special hammer or a power screw driver, go to Home Depot or some similar tool user's wonderland, and buy a replacement.  The lost item will always turn up.  It always did, but not until the replacement had been unwrapped and used making it impossible to return.  When my husband died he had amassed quite an amazing collection of hand tools (the size easiest to misplace) not to mention seven PC monitors and eight towers (but that's a different story).  In keeping with that time honored and well tested tradition, and having searched 'everywhere' for that elusive credit card mentioned in yesterday's blog, I gave up the search, called the credit card company and requested a new card.  So the old card is cancelled, the new one is on its way and it's a race to see which one shows up first.   

lost and found maybe

 Have you ever put something important (like say a new credit card) away in a safe place until you need to use it?  You put it in a really good place, and then maybe even move it to a better place, and then you need it to set up your on line payment and you can't find it anywhere?  This is all hypothetical of course, but have you ever had a similar experience?  It doesn't need to be a credit card.  The other day I searched all over for my phone.  I could hear it ringing but couldn't find it anywhere.  Of course I found it, after it stopped ringing.  A black cell phone blends right in with a black desk top.  A friend of mine recently found her car keys in her refrigerator.  In her defense, she had brought home leftovers from a very nice restaurant, and put them, and her keys in the frig before she took her coat off.  You can understand how that could happen. I'm going to bed now.  I will look for that hypothetical credit card in bright day light tomorrow.  I know I will find it in the last place I look, obviously.  

without even a pickup line...

 I was "picked up" by a younger man today.  It was really quite exciting.  I was leaving our church dining hall after enjoying our annual 'great chili cook-off' which was a delicious experience.  As I stopped on the way out to throw away my trash, a younger man suddenly threw his arms around me.  As I glanced down I saw the cutest little toddler hugging my knees.  It was as high as he could reach.  When I looked down he seemed a little surprised.  Moms and grandmas wearing pants tend to look a lot alike from the knees down.  He looked a little startled when he saw my face, but then (you could see the little gears working) he decided that I must be a grandma and, as such, possibly a soft touch.  It's a pretty safe assumption with grandparents.  He let go of my knees, grabbed my fingers (such a sweet feeling) and led me over to the dessert table.  Once we got there he pointed determinedly at a clear plastic box of donuts that he could just see over the edge of the table.  Happily for all concerned, except maybe the little smooth operator, his mom and dad, who had been watching this little drama play out, intervened and led him away from the dessert table and out the door.  Alas, I never even learned his name.  

Keep worrying...

 A couple of evenings ago I expressed my concerns about the possibility of train derailments in Fort Wayne while not even taking myself very seriously.  But a faithful reader emailed a newspaper article to me today that set my alarm bells ringing again.  The article is from the Akron, Ohio "Beacon Journal" and among other things shows the most likely route of that train that derailed in East Palestine, which began in Madison, Illinois and was supposed to end in Conway, PA, a suburb of Pittsburg. The route passed through Cleveland and several other large cities, and, you guessed it, Fort Wayne, on the line that runs right beside my apartment complex.  Two other pieces of information in that article caught my attention.  First, it seems that railroads do not disclose information about trains hauling toxic materials, apparently to avoid the information falling into the hands of terrorists.  I can't help thinking it might also be to avoid the information falling into the hands of potential protesting citizens.  Just a guess of course.  The other fact that came out was that one of the cars on the train was filmed, on railroad equipment along the route, showing first a hot box on an axle then a glow then actual flames.  I don't know why that information wasn't sent to the train in time to allow them to stop safely.  Just more to think about when I can't fall asleep.  When I hear those lonesome whistles in the night I'll tell myself they're hauling cars and coal and nothing really dangerous.

Friday night fun...

This evening my son and daughter-in-law and I went out to dinner, my treat, and to a play, their treat.  Each was a new experience.  First dinner at Yummy Thai. They had been there before but I hadn't..  It is a little restaurant on east State Street and the food was delicious.  Then on to the theater.  We saw a production of "Puffs" at Purdue Fort Wayne Theater.  If you are not a Harry Potter fan you can stop reading now, but if you are a fan, this was a very funny and sometimes weird spoof, retelling the entire seven volume Harry Potter saga in two hours.  This time the story was told from the point of view of students from Hufflepuff House, whose only claim to fame ever was their hero who dies in Book 4.  Lots of slapstick and some crude jokes.  The actors (all PFW students) really did an excellent job, very high energy.  Even the student who  broke his ankle in rehearsal Wednesday and was on crutches did a remarkable job.  The audience, about half and half students and older folks, had fun too, waving yellow flags (Hufflepuff's color) at all the right places.  Many of them came dressed for the event in Hogwarts robes.  The audience members in the front row got souvenir Puffs tissues in honor of the event,  It was a silly fun evening. 

Useless worries...

 I love where I live. In fact I'm just about to renew the lease on my 10th floor apartment, but I must admit that recent events have given me something to think about.  Watching video of buildings collapsing in Syria and Turkey has reminded me that Indiana sits on a fault and an earthquake is a real, although slight, possibility.  I'm really not spending much time thinking about this.  I figure if this building collapses I'll be beyond worrying about it.  On the other hand, the recent train derailment in East Palestine (evidently pronounced Palesteen) Ohio has made me more aware of the trains that run past our buildings day and night.  If any cars derailed it would be rather spectacular as they would fall off the overpass and block our only parking lot exit currently open if we had to evacuate.  There are several trains during the day and night, and I actually like the sound but I am wondering if there are any restrictions on what kinds of freight can be hauled through Fort Wayne.  I should do some research, or maybe it's better if I remain blissfully ignorant.

A perfect 10?

 During the past two weeks, due to complications from recent cataract surgery on top of long ago glaucoma surgery and a spike in pressure in my right eye (my good eye, the one I can see to drive with) I have been through a series of procedures.  At multiple appointments during the two weeks my eye has been needled, punctured, deflated, re-inflated, injected with 'goo,' ringed and stitched.  I've had such a variety of drops in my eye that I feel like a test bunny.  Many, many thanks to friends and family who drove me to all these appointments, and, more importantly, waited around and drove me home again.  But today, tah dah!!, I drove myself to my appointment, then to a meeting, then to the grocery store.  I feel so liberated!  And here's the really good part, the pressure in each eye was 10, just exactly where it should be.  This is the closest I will ever be to being a perfect 10, but I'll take it. 

Happy Valentine's Day

 I hope you all have enjoyed a pleasant Valentine's day.  I have learned some interesting information about Valentine's day which I'm going to share with you, because otherwise I would need to think of something original to write about.  Before you get misled into thinking that I spent the day doing serious research, i must admit that I got it all from my page-a-day trivia calendar.  Did you know that the first know written mention of St. Valentine's Day as a day of romantic celebration is from a poem by Geoffrey Chaucer called "Parliament of Fowls."  It was written sometime between 1380 and 1390. Translated into more modern English the line reads "For this was on St. Valentine's Day when every foul comes there to choose his mate." Evidently, during the Middle Ages, February 14 was seen as the beginning of bird mating season.  

Maybe that's where we get the idea of love birds?  When I was digging through some long neglected boxes looking for old pictures before our high school reunion last fall, I came across the topper for our wedding cake (some things you never throw away) and it is two white 'love birds'  framed in a heart.  Isn't that a sweet Valentine memory?

worst football game ever

 

A few years ago my friend and I took a short road trip to Ann Arbor to celebrate homecoming and the 50^th anniversary of his graduation from the University of Michigan.  It started out as a cool but sunny autumn day.  We walked all around the campus seeing the buildings where he had lived and studied (it is a beautiful campus) had a lovely lunch (it was part of the package) and looked forward to the football game in the afternoon.  While we were lunching, the clouds rolled in and it started to drizzle.  We decided to buy a couple of light weight ponchos in the gift shop (blue of course) just in case.  We found our seats in the bleachers, pulled on those ponchos as the rain increased and the temperature dropped, and settled in to watch the game.  Being a gallant gentleman and knowing that my hip had been hurting from all the walking, he told me that we could leave whenever I wanted to.  But this was his big day and he had really been looking forward to the game so there was no way I was going to ask him to leave early.  We sat through three sodden quarters watching Michigan trounce the opposition.  Possibly the saddest sight of all was the small huddle of fans on the other side of the field wearing red ponchos and bravely cheering on their loosing team.  I was getting colder and more uncomfortable by the minute but I was determined to be a good sport and let him have his day.  Finally, at the end of the third quarter, he turned to me and said “Aren’t you ready to go yet?”  Needless to say, we left immediately.

who's winning???

 I am not a football fan, ask anyone who knows me and they will assure you that it's true.  But I have attended many football games in my life; most of those were when my children were in high school and marching in the band at half time.  Depending on the weather, we sometimes stayed for the whole game.  This evening I watched two of my favorite shows on PBS, then switched over to see the end of the Super Bowl.  Imagine my surprise when I saw the score 35-35 and realized that this was probably a pretty exciting game.  I'm happy for those fans who watched the whole thing and got to watch a really good game for a change.  The Chiefs have won now, 38-35 so no overtime and I can go to bed.  Tomorrow evening I will tell you about the most miserable foot ball game I ever attended.  I may not be a fan but I am a good sport.

It's our day....

 Today is "Grandmother Achievement Day."  Doesn't that sound like a wonderful day?  Perhaps it should be a week.  I have many friends who are grandmothers (it comes with age) and they are all absolutely excellent grandmothers.  But believe me, most grandmothers, while they are loving, caring grandma's, have lives way beyond that.  Grandmothers run businesses, work in the medical field, are active in politics, do lots and lots of volunteer work and generally achieve amazing things.  And lets not forget the grandmothers who are living through, and helping their families live through earthquakes and wars. Go hug a grandmother right now, (yours or someone else's) and tell her you appreciate her achievements.  

movie review

A short blog tonight - too much company, not enough sleep. This afternoon my friends and I went to see the movie "80 for Brady."  If you're a football fan I highly recommend it.  Of course I suppose that depends a little on which team you support.  It's a really fun look at all of the activities that go on leading up to the Super Bowl.  If you're not a football fan, or like me know very little about the sport at all, but are of a certain age (gasp, close to 80) you will still enjoy this movie. Go see it.

safety first

According to my west coast brother, today is "National Read in the Bathtub Day," also "Pizza Day" and "Chocolate Day." If you seriously think you would like to celebrate all three together, which actually sounds a little messy to me, consider your forth option.  Today is also "National Develop Alternative Vices Day."  While I'm not ready to give up pizza or chocolate I think I would be comfortable substituting 'reading in my recliner' for 'reading in the bathtub.'  I think it's much more practical. First, I'm a shower person, and reading in the shower really doesn't work well. Second, it's easier to get out of a recliner to answer the door, than to get out of the tub.  And the final consideration, at least for me is safety.  In pictures I've seen of people reclining in a tub full of bubble bath with a book and often a glass of wine, it looks like it would much too easy to fall asleep.  Now I'll admit that it's also very easy to fall asleep in a recliner, but you won't drown.  

Hammer that nail.

 I'm currently watching a show I like called "Tough as Nails."  As part of this episode one of the competitors' individual challenges was to build a wooden ladder, 30 feet high.  The top and bottom rungs were already in place and they had to climb the ladder as they built it. using precut lengths of 2x4s.  This challenge brought back memories of my father.  He was a carpenter all his life, starting by helping his father build many of the barns that still stand around the Woodburn area.  He quit school at 16 which wasn't unusual at that time, but rather sad I think, because he loved to read and was really quite intelligent.  He finished his career by specializing in interior finish work and always had plenty of jobs lined up.  But what I thought of as I watched this show was how he hammered nails.  When my brothers and I were young, if he was working on a project around the house (our 100 year old house always needed something) he would give us chunks of scrap wood, hammers and nails, and we would hammer away taking forever to get a nail even a little way into the wood.  Then he would show us how it was done.  Wham, wham, wham!  Three strokes of the hammer and the nail was all the way into the wood.  Every time.  He would tell us how to do it flexing our wrists, but I'm pretty sure it had a lot more to do with years and years of practice.  

A special day, week

 Today is a special day in many ways.  First, on a personal level, February 7 was my husband's birthday.  My daughter and I toasted his memory with Thai Iced Tea at our favorite Thai lunch place.  It's also, according to my west coast brother, National Fettuccine Alfredo Day.  Admittedly a delicious dish and deserving of celebration, but so is Pad Thai which is what my daughter and I had today.  Don't we live in a great county, culinarily speaking?  And finally, today is the first day of Valentines Week.  Evidently Valentines Week from February 7 to 14 is a real thing.  Who knew?  The only reason I can think of for having Valentines Week is to give us time to drop not so subtle hints to our significant others as to where we would like to celebrate or what we would like to receive on Valentines Day.  It's also a reminder that it's time to make a reservation at your favorite restaurant.  Happy Valentines Week everyone.

Red is such a pretty color.

 Once again I'm sharing a memoir as my blog. Enjoy.

My husband was a wonderful loving grandfather who adjusted pretty well when our daughter and her two children moved back home after her divorce.  Because she was working and I was working and he was recently retired, he became, by default, Papa Daycare.  As I said he loved these little toddlers (ages three and one) and did a good job of keeping them fed and clean but, since he wasn’t the stay-at- home parent when our children were very young, he had the mistaken impression that when children were in another room being very quiet, everything was fine.

One afternoon, after he had put the children down for their naps, he got busy on his computer.  Time passed, and when I came home from work the first thing that  I noticed was a strangely familiar smell in the air.  Not bad, but I couldn’t quite identify it.  I followed my nose and discovered the three-year-old cheerfully painting designs all over his little sister’s legs with his mother’s bright red nail polish.  His little sister was standing patiently in her baby bed, very close to the railing so he could reach her legs easily.  She was giggling because it tickled.  He had covered both legs quite thoroughly. A fair amount of polish also ended up on the wall paper near the bed.  I think he practiced there first.  Who knew one little bottle of polish could spread so far? 

After a quick check to be sure neither of them had ingested anything, and a wipe down with polish remover and bath for the baby, we set some new guidelines for child care and made sure nail polish was always put away.  I’m happy to say both children survived Papa Daycare and now, as young adults, both are quite artistic.

PS A few years later, some time after my daughter and her kids had moved on to live with her new husband, my husband and I watched the movie Daddy Daycare.  My husband did not think it was funny at all.

Computer woes and SMH?

 I tried to blog last night, I really did, but the program wouldn't let me in.  I'm not sure why after years of accessing this site in the exact same way but it was late, my eyes were blurry and I was too tired to fiddle with it.  This evening I started the process earlier, found and followed some prompts, reset my password, and all is well.  But enough about my computer woes.  The question on my trivia calendar today is "What does the internet slang abbreviation SMH stand for?" You may know but I didn't.  Oh. I had ideas.  Smooth My Hair? Send Me Home? Scratch My Head? or my favorite, "Sell My House"  I was a Realtor after all.  Not too surprisingly, none of those are right, although one was close.  SMH stands for Shaking My Head, often used to express emotions like disgust or embarrassment. SMH

 Today is "National Carrot Cake Day" which sounds really delicious to me.  I have baked a couple of carrot cakes in my life because it's one of my daughter's two favorites cakes.  I learned, after the first one, that carrot cakes are much easier to make if you buy the carrots already shredded.  I do like carrots and carrot shortcuts.  When I was a baby I liked and ate strained carrots so much that my skin took on a yellowish hue. My mother, with her year of nurses training, thought I was jaundiced and rushed me off to the doctor who told her to cut back on the carrots.  These days I still eat a lot of carrots, and I still take the easy way.  I'm not so lazy that I buy strained carrots but I do buy the bags of scraped, cleaned baby carrots,  Yes, I know they aren't really baby carrots (in most cases) just chopped up grown up carrots, but I also know that if I had to peel each carrot, I wouldn't eat nearly so many and I do think they are good for me. but enough about carrots.  My daughter's other favorite cake is Tiramisu and she requested it for one birthday a few years back.  After I read the recipe and figured out how much the ingredients would cost me, I bought a Tiramisu cake from Halls.  It was delicious.  Suddenly I'm getting hungry.  Good night.

Black History Month

 I have not read any of the new history books that some schools are rejecting these days, and I understand that there have been recent revisions made to some of the books.  I don't think I have any more right to express an opinion than people who demand challenged books be removed from school and public libraries without first reading them. But I'm pretty sure the new history books are more informative than what I grew up with.  I was trying to remember what we learned about black people in the history books we used when I was in seventh and eighth grade, and even into high school.  Late 1950s to early 1960s.  Of course we learned that we (being in the north) were the heroes who freed the slaves, and there may have been a brief mention of the underground railroad, but the only reference I remember to an actual black person was to George Washington Carver.  He did amazing things with peanuts, including inventing peanut butter, and my teacher seemed to have great admiration for him.  I do remember being frustrated in eighth grade because we never got beyond WWII, even though there were more pages in the book.  I think I'll make it a goal this month to read at least one of these controversial history books.  As luck would have it, I'm going to the library tomorrow.  Perhaps I'll have a book review for you by the end of the month.  

one small step...

 For a few years back in the day, when I was in my 50s, I got up at 5:00am five mornings a week, and went to the local YMCA to work out.  I worked out on the elliptical for thirty minutes, then walked a mile on the track.  Then home, shower and dress, and off to work. I was in pretty good shape back then.

Fast forward to the present.  When I first moved into this apartment complex there was an exercise room in the basement level.  Not too many machines and honestly kind of depressing.  I tried out the treadmill but didn't stick with it. During the pandemic I bought an exercise bike (which I assembled myself and installed in my bedroom). I still use it but not as regularly as I should.  Last year, as part of a major remodeling here, the management had some walls knocked down and created a wonderful new exercise room on the first floor, with treadmills, ellipticals, free weights, a rowing machine, etc. and windows. I've been eying those ellipticals ever since but have never gone in to try them out.  I suffer from FOMaFOM (fear of making a fool of myself).  Did I mention that one wall of this exercise room is entirely glass so people in the adjoining common area (with the pool table) can watch you exercise?  

Today I took the first step. I was riding down in the elevator to get my mail late this afternoon when a friendly looking young man got on a couple of floors below me.  His clothes and water bottle gave me the idea that he might be on his way to exercise, so, on impulse, I asked him if he could show me how to use the elliptical machine.  He very kindly showed me the basics and I rode that machine for seven minutes.  My goal is to gradually work up to a half hour.  My reason is that in the fall I'm going on a trip to Italy and Greece, and I want to be in shape for lots of walking.  I don't expect miracles and I will not wear tight exercise pants, but I'll give it a try.  Feel free to ask me how I'm doing.