The heat. Why is it always so hot in Kansas City?

Yeah, yeah, I know. In another four months, I'll be complaining that it's too cold. But I can always add more clothes. There's only a legal limit to the articles of clothing that I can take off in public. Or so I'm told...

 

Today I did Pilates for the first time in quite awhile. (And by "awhile", I mean something along the line of years.) I found some of the Winsor Pilates episodes on YouTube that I used to work out to from maybe 2005 to 2018 (sporadically, that is).

Here is what I remembered, after tackling that 20-minute workout. 

• I am not flexible. I have never been flexible and will likely become flexible only if someone chops off my leg and places it against my forehead. And then I guess I'm really just dismembered.
  
  
• 
  The lead Pilates demonstrator always looks so happy, even when she's contorted into the most bizarre or strenuous positions. This position? I swore the entire time I was in it, but she looks like she's just sitting normally, maybe reaching for a bowl of ice cream. At moments, I hate her. At other moments, I love her and want her to reach over and high five me. Just once I want them to move the guy to be the front-and-center person. He seems more my pace: he's doing it because he's getting paid, doing a great job, but isn't an overachiever and is just biding his time until he can leave class to go grab a Miller High Life. 
  
  

• I have a hard time counting. I mean, basic addition and counting I'm okay with, but pilates counting is something different. The number of repetitions plus the number within is what they're doing, or something like that...? I always end up doing more than I should. That does not please me, and my abs hate me for it.
  
  
• I always think that the next session will be better, my body will adapt, it will get easier. No. I am like watching a salmon moving upstream. It looks as difficult as it is, and as much as you might want to yell "Go, little buddy, go!" for encouragement, you hold back because you're afraid that you might spook them and, realistically speaking, they won't hear you. I won't hear you due to the whoosh of inflexibility resonating in my head and my mumbling the wrong rep counts.

Scratch This

I've become obsessed with scratch-off things. Well, to be more specific, scratch-off posters. But, to be real, I'll take any scratch-off item, like a lottery ticket.

It's just so satisfying to rub off that top layer to reveal another pattern or discovery...something...underneath. It's not quite like scratching a mosquito bite until it bleeds, when the intensity of the scratch relieves the itch of the bite. But similar.

I limited the number of scratch-off posters that I'm allowed to have at one time to three. At this point in time, listed in the order that they were purchased:

1. A scratch-off poster of the 50 states. When the state is scratched, the state flower is revealed beneath the gold foil. I originally bought it with the intention of using it to track the states that my husband and I visited together but, at his insistence, it only represents the states that I have visited. By far the most intricate of the scratch-off posters that I have, it was so hard to scratch the smaller states - like Massachusetts - without going into its neighboring state - like New Hampshire. I have only 12 more states to visit, meaning only 12 more states to reveal. I'm already sad thinking about the moment when I scratch off the final gold foil for that last state. 
   
   
2. A scratch-off poster of the 100 Top Books. I'm not exactly sure who determined the list, but it's a wide-ranging collection of children's books (like The Secret Garden and Pippi Longstocking) to classic literature (such as Dante's Divine Comedy and Sherlock Holmes) to modern literature (such as Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone and The Secret Life of Bees). I've only read 55 of the books at this point, and the thought of scratching the last box on this poster is daunting...do I really want to read Ulysses? My eyes just glazed over, and I imagined myself falling asleep with the print of the book's pages becoming embedded on my face. Each book is represented by a gold foil square, and it's heaven when I do scratch off the square to reveal pastel artwork depicting the book's protagonist or other representation of the plot.
   
   
3. IMDd.com's Top 100 Movies Watchlist. Oofta. This one I should have researched better before purchasing but, in true me form, I slung back a few glasses of wine and thought ordering it off Amazon was a brilliant move. It's a combination of classic and modern movies, black and white films, silent films, foreign films, children's and animated movies, and...Japanese anime. This one, my husband and I tackle together, the compromise to the scratch-off states poster. We watch a movie together, and then I scratch off the gold and black foil movie square. It doesn't matter whether he and I have both seen the movie individually, at a time before we met each other, it only counts if we watch the film together.The scratching is torture, as the gold foil comes off easily but the black does not. Most of the time, I scratch too deep on the black area and scratch into the actual colored print below. I try to hide my mistakes with a black sharpie where I can, but the poster looks beaten if you look at it too closely. We have 44 squares...or movies, rather...before this poster has received its final scratch. I cannot wait. 

I haven't given much thought to my scratch-off poster for once these three are complete. Maybe the Top 100 Albums to Listen to? the state parks? Top 100 Things to Do on a Date? I can't wait...and hopefully they scratch easier then that fucking IMDb movie poster.

  

 

The top five things that I should do when I have free time:

1. Write.
2. Work out.
3. Spend time with my family.
4. Read a classic novel that is on my Top 100 Books scratch off poster, such as Madame Bovary or Ulysses. 
5. Scrub my kitchen floors.

In reality, the top five things that I do when I have free time:

1. Snuggle with my cats while watching a murder show. (Typically, something of the Dateline or 48 Hours variety.)
2. Snuggle with my cats while eating chips and queso.
3. Snuggle with my cats while working on a subversive cross stitch...while a murder show plays in the background.
4. Snuggle with my cats while reading a fluff book. (Currently, Megan Miranda is my go-to author for quick, brainless reading.)
5. Scoop out a litter box.

So. Am I blaming my cats for my lack of productive behavior when I have free time? Well...no. My cats just mean that I have no free time. As wrongly attributed as a quote from one Sigmund Freud but, regardless of who said it, still holds true: Time spent with cats is never wasted.