Deborah’s done it again. She’s no bigger than a hummingbird, but she sure knows how to get things done. Already she’s busy hosting huge groups of bluegrass musicians and their fans every other week-end and playing inn keeper to their many out-of-town guests. She also assists Charlie in his many Antique Automobile Club of America functions as a judge and chapter president, which entails a fair amount of travel. Now, she’s decided to help the rest of us get limber through exercise classes.
Only four of us showed on the first day of limber lessons; this was probably due to civic responsibility. The class was held on election day. I know this excuse holds for at least one possible participant who is a poll worker. The real reason for the sparse attendance may be that we see how trim Deborah is and figure she’ll be a “physical terrorist,” as was Charlie when he was helping Jim recuperate from several surgeries. Jim is doing well, so it must have been just what he needed.
Thank goodness we had Wanda to keep us all laughing. I could no more touch my head to the floor while sitting spread legged than I could kiss my own elbow. Wanda had a sprained ankle, so she had a plausible excuse for her limitations. She made great fun of herself, which kept everyone entertained. I could almost pretend that I wasn’t in pain. But, there was little bitty Deborah, like she worked as a contortionist for Cirque du Soleil.
I felt very old as I watched eighty-six-year-old Martha following Deborah’s lead, which certainly humbled and surprised me. Nancy never surprises me in what she can do; I think all her time with her horses gives her quite a work-out on a regular basis. I was rather relieved when she confessed that she used to teach exercise classes.
Here I was with my big butt up in the air and Deborah insisting that I could get my feet farther toward the floor. Maybe in an alternate universe; I couldn’t even do that maneuver when I took dance at the age of six.
I stopped to see Mamie after class; she thought it was fairly funny that we’re taking time to exercise. She’s often mentioned to me that she can’t understand people who pay for exercise classes and drive many miles to attend them when we can get all the exercise we need in our gardens.
I know I’ll get lots more movement in the next couple of days, even though I’ll miss Deborah’s next class. Nancy has offered her horse poop for our garden and Mamie’s hen house roost is ready for harvesting of more fertilizer. Maybe I can figure a way to incorporate stretches into our sh_t shoveling exercises.
As Miss Jenny of Romper Room School used to sing, “Bend and stretch; reach for the stars. Stand on tippy-toe all so high. Bend and stretch; reach for the stars. There goes Jupiter; there goes Mars.”