Christian Love Gone Awry

Mom emailed me this story last night. It's a story too good not to share - classic Mom!

We had Maundy Service at church tonight. First a potluck dinner. (I told Fellowship Committee you said hi and they said "Get your butt up here we need you!") After that we have a service up in the sanctuary and communion. I was busy during dinner, but I noticed that this unkempt woman with no teeth was at the potluck. (No she did not come with the bearded lady you are always asking about!) So Louise and I had to do some cleaning up, and we got into service late. They were singing. We sat in the last row of seated people and I noticed that the unkempt lady was sitting across the aisle and back a few rows by herself so I went over to her (trying to do the friendly Christian love thing) and asked her if she wanted to come over and sit with me so she wouldn’t have to be all alone. So she did and seemed very happy to share my songbook and Bible. At the end of the service, we introduced ourselves and I gave her a hug. I invited her to come to Sunday School, and she could be in my class (the bearded lady is in my class so why not have one with no teeth) and come to church after Sunday School. Ok, so then I no more than get home and pull into the driveway and unload my dishes when my phone rings and it is Louise telling me that the toothless lady’s house has bedbugs, and I should be careful I didn’t now have them. So I went into the garage and undressed. Naked, I ran upstairs and went right into the shower imagining bedbugs falling off of me as I was going up the steps. I then went into the garage and carefully took the clothes down to the basement and put them into the washer (I hope I don’t ruin my new pink sweater). I swept off my shoes as they had cutout holes and I imagined the bedbugs just getting into those holes. Now I feel itchy all over and in my hair I can feel things crawling around and all for trying to show my Christian love!!!  I can’t stop scratching!!! I hate to get into my bed tonight with my NEW MATTRESS. Oh dear!

Morrow Mountain Misadventure

Wanda picked me up at 10:00 on Sunday. Before we left the house, I told her, "I think I am going to exhume my old hiking boots for today's hike. I love my Salomon hiking shoes, but I need to revive my old L.L. Beans if I want ankle support in the Grand Canyon this Spring. I haven't worn them in about 6 years since buying the hiking shoes, so I wore them around in the yard this week. I don't think they will rub or pinch."

She suggested I bring my Salomons for back-up. I replied, "You know how I hate to carry things on the trail."

"You can keep them in the car for afterwards - you don't have to carry them in your pack."

"Nah, it'll be fine." Famous last words.

After a long, winding drive, we arrived at Morrow Mountain State Park just before noon. We always start our hikes with empty bladders, so we parked at the facilities at the entrance. As we exited the toilets, I stepped on something. I felt it stuck to the back of my boot. I looked down as I walked. I couldn't believe what I saw.

"Wanda, LOOK!"

I had stepped on nothing. The thick sole of my right aged hiking boot had split in two. It slapped like a flip flop when I walked, hinged under the ball of my foot.

"What on EARTH!?! They were just fine the other day! And look at the other one!"

The second boot was flopping just as completely by the time we reached the car. "Oh my God," I said, "we drove all this way and I can't hike with these."

Wanda pondered as I oozed apologies for not taking her advice. If I had brought my shoes, we'd be on our way up the mountain. I felt so foolish. What a waste of gas.

"Let's drive back to Badin and see if there is anything there. If we could buy duct tape and fix them like in Wild, would you hike?" Wanda asked. 

Not at all in favor of hiking in boots held together with tape, but too guilty to fuss, I said, "Sure."

Image courtesy the internet. Not my boot but you get the idea.

Badin's population is less than 2,000. Not only were there no duct tape or shoe stores there, nothing was open on Sunday but church. Wanda pulled up Google Maps and we decided to go 7 miles farther, into Albermarle, hoping it offered footwear. Or duct tape. If not, we would bail out on Morrow Mountain and head home.

We were looking for WalMart per Google, but I saw Hibbitt Sports first. "Let's try Hibbitt. I hope they are open." We pulled into the strip mall and she parked her Honda. Crossing the parking lot, I felt like I was wearing scuba flippers. I had to lift my knees high like a majorette with each step and thunk-slap, thunk-slap, thunk-slap my way along. Wanda was greatly entertained by my march of shame, and I attracted stares from a few shoppers who skipped church. By the time we entered the store, we were both laughing. Each step I took left black crumbles from my soles on the carpet, like a trail of crushed Oreos. We laughed harder.

We walked the perimeter of the store, my knees still high, to the "Women's Shoes" wall. No hiking footwear, but plenty of sneakers. At the first bench in the shoe section, I took off my boots and selected a shoe from the wall. The salesclerk, a strapping buck of 25, brought me a pair in my size. They fit, so we eagerly trotted after him to the check-out counter. It felt good not to march. I put my boots on the counter as I paid. He saw them and asked, "Do you want me to put these boots in the empty box?"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT. You can keep the box, and you can keep the boots, thanks."  He picked up the boots in a two-fingered pinch and daintily dropped them in the can. We left the store, and returned to Morrow Mountain. "Thanks for being so patient!" I told Wanda, "Barring any middle-aged menstrual emergencies at the summit, I think we salvaged the day!"

"Don't jinx us," she giggled, and we started up the trail.

New sneakers, minutes after purchase, from the passenger seat of Wanda's car.

What I Am Thinking During Yoga Class

Oh no, I am almost late and it's packed! Two spots left - do I unroll my mat up front beside the instructor, or back in the corner? CORNER, definitely. I need to be earlier next time so I have the option of strategic mat placement. Hiding is preferred.

Okay, all settled in. She has a voice for Public Radio - sleepy-soft. Oooooom. Tell me a story. Yes, release the tension. Oooooom. Spine straight. Unclench jaw. Palms up. Is this the same soundtrack as last time? Sam Smith, always Sam Smith. Lean to the right. I could do this at home. Why don't I do yoga at home?

Up. Reach reach reach. Swan dive into forward fold. Oh Lawd I need a pedicure. Pumice emergency. Up into Flatback. Chair pose. I wish I had an ass like the girl in front of me. Forward fold. HOW did cat hair get on my mat? Does the cat hair have to be EVERYWHERE? Flatback. Chair. She has a 25-year old butt. I have the butt of a 25-year old couch cushion. Forward fold. Should my knees be bent this far? Maybe I can just grab that snaggled toenail and rip it off. Nope. Seems attached. Pedicure.

Down to the mat again. Plank. I like plank. I like any position that does not involve bending at the waist. This is because I am shaped like an oak barrel which does not lend itself to comfortable bending or twisting. Lift arm and opposite leg. Balance. Am I the oldest one here? They are all so young this time. Where is that mid-50's couple? Switch sides. Balance. Good girl. Is this Stevie Wonder remade for yoga? Whose idea was that? I wonder if he knows. Stevie should never be imitated. Downward-facing dog. Must not fart! Pinch pinch pinch! Must! Not! Fart! Lift which leg? Good, that is helpful.

Lunge pose; hands on mat. My belly is in the way. Why is my belly always in the way? Chin buried in cleavage. What now? Elbows to the floor? Pinch pinch pinch. Reach through where? Oh!Oh! Am I supposed to get my shoulder on the floor? Twisted child what? I am so tangled - Oh! Oooooh this feels nice. I think I got it. But how am I going to get up?

Okay, back onto all fours. Cat, Cow. The yoga poses everybody can do. Her young butt is nice but Cow position in those tight spandex pants reveals ALL of the curves and folds of her undercarriage. It's a little upsetting, frankly. Cat, Cow-avert-my-eyes, Cat, Cow-avert-my-eyes. I am glad there is no one behind me staring into my couch cushion. Horrifying thought. Ease up. Ease? Herky-jerky yoga is more my style.

Oh God we are turning! NO NO NO NOW I AM IN THE FRONT AND IN THE CORNER FLANKED WITH MIRRORS EVERYONE CAN SEE ME NO NO NOOOOO. Oh, look at that - I am not the oldest one. Bonus! Turn feet, warrior pose. Triangle. Oh GOD my belly is like an accordian rolling and unrolling with the bending. Is everyone looking at my belly? Stay calm. Avert eyes in the mirror from the girl next to me because I have seen her spandex lady bits. Turn feet, repeat. PLEASE can we turn back around? I can't handle all these mirrors. Humiliation. Blind yoga. That's what I need.

Down to the floor. YES! Is this Hall and Oates? On my back. No one can see me now. Knees to chest. Grab ankles. Accordian belly pushes boobs into my windpipe. Yoga is for thin people. Release (but don't fart). Repeat. Corpse pose. Rest. AMEN.