Wanna know what I did yesterday? Ok yes, I worked during the day. In an office building. Auditing a local government. I thought it was a blast but will concede, not most people's idea of fun. (By the way, we went out for lunch on the company's dime and left at least half an hour early...rethinking how bad it could be yet?)
Our two best friends (who are dating - WEIRD - they were our Maid of Honor and Best Man and our closest friends for YEARS) met us for dinner at the best diner in town. From there, we went on a special trip to the BEST ICE CREAM PARLOR I'VE EVER ENCOUNTERED. It's called Handel's. I believe there are a few locations, see if there's one near you! I actually don't usually like ice cream, I see it as an excuse for toppings in a sundae. However, this place is phenomenal. I can't possibly describe just how perfect the ice cream is, and they have a rotating menu which hosted about, oh, three dozen or so options yesterday! The flavor of the month was Blueberry Cobbler...oh my Lord. Vanilla ice cream base, with pieces of "crust" and gooey goopy lip-smacking blueberry pie filling. I finished the entire coneful (again, weird for me)...all forty bajillion calories and three hundred grams of fat I'm sure it included. And I. Enjoyed. Every. Sugary. Drop. Take that, broken-diet-guilt!
In case you haven't noticed, what I'm getting at is that I indulged in some little things that make life special. However, you know there has to be something II related if I'm blogging about it, right? Here ya go:)
Everyone was so stuffed from dinner that we didn't have room right away for the ice cream. So how did we kill the time? We randomly decided to wander around the area on foot. Yes, I walked around the area. We eventually made a pit stop at a drug store (I needed arch supports for my new sneakers - I'm trying to remove excuses to not exercise one pain at a time), where our buddy bought a Wiffle Ball + Bat. Yeah, this only gets more mature from here...
After devouring the Best Ice Cream on Earth, we journeyed back to our hometown, to the firehouse our friend runs with for a game of Wiffle Ball. My friend and I thought we were going to be watching the group of goofball boys run around like monkeys after this silly plastic ball. However, they were a little short staffed for the game, and we found ourselves on the apron the firehouse fielding hits before they could roll into the street. I was already shocked to find myself in a game where I had to run, when I found out I also had to pitch and bat! Are you KIDDING? I don't "play ball"! I don't run, I don't throw, and I don't swing. I can catch, but chasing down the ball at top speed so it doesn't get crushed by a car - not so much. That's what I have a husband for, right? And then the broken-diet-guilt made an appearance "hey, Jen Lardbutt! You did just eat more calories and fat than you should consume in a week. This would be a way to work off at least a few of those calories. But if you think you can afford to sit around and watch instead...". Whew, that was close. I almost succumbed to the urge to exercise! Fortunately, my resistance was strong...until Self Doubt made his appearance. "Yo, Jen! Haven't you had enough of being a Sickie lately? Do you really want to tell another whole group of people you can't do something? Way to be whiny, babe."
I can't stand up to Self Doubt. He gets me into a lot of trouble. Putting in too many hours in busy season, going to an all-day concern in the sun, standing outside for two hours teaching my cousin to spin a flag - all his doing. Maybe he has stock in ibuprofen and is just trying to boost sales, because goodness knows I go through plenty the day after each of these undertakings!
Anyway, the long and short of it is I played. Did I ever mention that I never learned to play Wiffle Ball? Yeah, I didn't spend much time as a kid with a bat in my hand. I can catch, but made a fool out of myself the first time I had to be pitcher! I wanted the ground to swallow me whole, it was so embarassing. 5 year old kids play this game, and I can't get a stupid little white plastic ball to go where I want it. However, my best friend was a softball pitcher in a past life, and took pity on me. She taught me to pitch enough to get through the game (granted, I look like a moron because I have to point at my target first, but it's better than throwing it a good 15 degrees off my target every pitch). So I got through that crisis...only to find out I was next up to bat! I turned to my husband (playing catcher at the moment), and said "so, would this be a bad time to point out I never learned to bat, either?". My secret was out, I was a wiffle ball outcast as a kid, might as well go Full Monty on my shortcomings. After a bit of a chuckle (I'll remember that, guys...), Shawn thought to tell me to line myself up like my favorite ballplayer, Ryan Howard (I'm a Phillies Phan, don't be hatin'). Wouldn't you know, the damned joke worked! I should have realized if power-hitter Ryan developed such a distinctive system for getting ready to bat, it must have a reason. I might not have knocked it out of the 'park', but I got a few good hits that made everyone hustle!
After the game, I realized another little perk in my night. These guys, who included my best friends but also some mere acquaintences, saw my shortcomings and instead of mocking me (which is the entire reason I never learned to throw or hit during all my years of gym classes in school) they taught me how to do it. They restored my faith in humanity;) And the crowning glory of it all? I'm still functioning today. I can walk, I can bend. I'm a little achy, but have been for weeks now. I feel so much better about life right now:) Maybe I'll be ok:D
Holy Gadzooks, I finally caught up to the skill set of a 7 year-old during recess! Now if only I could learn my times tables....