Golden Girl

I’ve been using sunless tanning cream.

When I lived in Okinawa, I swam outside at lunch and had a year-round tan, albeit with a big white “X” across my back. I no longer swim and, even if I did, I wouldn’t want to swim outside at the current 33 F. After a year out of the pool, I’m pasty pale.

My friend Kathy tans at her gym. She looks great. I’m very jealous of her brown stomach, but I can’t bring myself to fake-n-bake because of my fear of skin cancer.

So, while it’s winter, I decided to learn to use fake tanner. If I turn my legs orange or end up with streaks, no one will see. By summer, I should have the technique perfected enough to go to the office sans pantyhose.

It’s a good thing that I decided to begin the learning curve now. The first time I applied the cream, I applied so little to my knees and ankles that I had big white spots. The second time (yesterday), I overcompensated. My knees are evenly tanned, but it looks like I am wearing orange socks. The tops of my feet are a laughable pumpkin color. As long as I don’t have to wear shorts or sandals, it’s funny.

I’ll figure it out soon enough. While my legs are a bit patchy, my stomach came out a lovely, even gold color. If it wasn’t so cold, I’d run around in a belly shirt.

We Have a Cat

We have a cat, her name is Cat. Officially, her name is Cleo, but we just call her Cat.

Why do we do this? It makes me feel somewhat like Holly Golightly, whose cat was named Cat. By similarly naming my pet, some of Audrey Hepburn’s Breakfast at Tiffany’s elegance rubs off on me.

Mike likes the name "Cat" because it sounds silly, and it reminds him of some Thai Marines we hung out with one evening on a Thai Royal Marine base. When we got up to buy a drink, the senior Marine motioned us to sit down and explained, “We have a boy, HEY. . . BOY!” Boy promptly fetched us beverages. We think it is endlessly funny to say to each other, “We have a cat, HEY. . . CAT!” But Cat doesn’t bring us anything to drink.

Finally, it fits with the fish’s name: Fishy-poo.

I think that our child’s name will be Kid. HEY. . . KID! And he can call us Mommy and Daddy.

When I Grow Up, I Want To Be...

I was in sixth grade, walking down the hall with a friend whose name and face has since faded, discussing what we wanted to be when we grew up. As we rattled off job titles, our answers had less to do with what we wanted to do or could do than how cool it was. I said that I wanted to be a ballerina or an astronaut or, if neither of those worked out, a movie star. Well, I didn’t take my first ballet class till 18, a little late to start a career. My astigmatism ruled out working in space. I think my acting career peaked at sixteen, when I starred on a hit show on KLTV. Now I’m grown up, but still dreaming of an exciting and glamorous career. Perhaps it isn’t “cool,” but I want to be an aerobics instructor.

I’ve wanted to be an instructor for a few years. I’m attracted to multiple aspects of the job. I get to be a fitness role model. People listen to me. I have the autonomy to choreograph and execute my own classes. I get paid to work out! I did not pursue a certification earlier because of the expense and my location overseas. Now, I am getting certified at the gym in my office building for minimal cost.

As a part of the learning process, I asked to teach portions of various classes. Yesterday, I led the warm-up for the step-ball class. It was a miserable performance. I stepped in front of the class and suddenly because a spastic mumbler. While it was a horribly embarrassing eight minutes, I learned a number of valuable lessons. 1. Speak up. You’re never as loud as you think you are. 2. Face away from the class. As a beginner, it is too confusing if you are facing the class, and thus on the “wrong” foot all the time. This makes it doubly important to speak up. 3. Keep it simple. I started out holding the large inflatable ball used in the class. It just made everything harder. 4. Rehearse. I thought I was too cool to rehearse the night before. Wrong! 5. Be yourself. I was so freaked out that I led the class like a complete automaton. Robots are boring.

Today, I led the 15-minute abs class. While I didn’t rehearse, I did put together a list of all the exercises I planned on doing, with some extras in case I didn’t fill the time. I only did exercises I had done before. I was loud. I was friendly and chatty. The class went very well and I left on a cloud.

I am newly energized about pursuing my certification. While the perky aerobics instructor is somewhat cliché, it is what I want to be when I grow up. (But don’t worry – I’m keeping my day job.)

Sofa King

Once, while in the pits, pulling targets, I found this written on one of the support boards:

"Ime Sofa King We Todd Id"

Say it 3 times fast.

(Because I posted this, karma has doomed me to having a mentally handicapped child.)