Sometimes I'd rather not know how to do something properly. I've started a new workout ... uh ... I was going to say routine, but that sounds like I'm trying some new dance steps. A new workout plan, I guess. It involves doing a lot of work with dumbbells and barbells and the various benches in the free weight section of the gym. I've always been a bit intimidated to workout in that room with the guys who've made fitness a hobby. Me, I'm just trying to lose a little weight.
I have never played in a pit orchestra. I almost did once. My sophomore year in high school I was set to play keyboard for the spring musical. I hopped in my car, a crummy ’84 Ford Escort we called a deathtrap, and drove off to my first orchestra rehearsal, forgetting the keys score I’d set on the roof. For some reason, I never did find the book, a large folio, the size of an artist’s sketch pad.
A few weeks ago I was in the locker room at the YMCA psyching myself up for an intense workout and listening to several preteen boys showing off. One boy kept saying, “What the fhhhhhh?!!” but never completed the word, apparently not yet audacious enough to cuss in a locker room. Oh, but junior high is coming; he’ll soon muster up the courage like Ralphie in The Christmas Story when he beat up Farkus.