What a nice week it's been. Monday and Tuesday I took it easy, which made me realize that the previous week I hadn't just been tired from three shows, I'd been sick, too. I guess I was in denial, because this week I could feel I was just tired, and whaddaya know? Sleep helps with that.
Tuesday night I finally tried Zumba. A lot of Nia people like it, so that seemed promising. When I got there, I could hear the music and the hollerin' from the other end of the hall. (There was another class right before.) Just watching, I was grinning ear to ear. What about Zumba DON'T I like? The instructor was a short, curvy gal and the front two rows (where I placed myself--I'm not shy and I want to know what's going on) were stocked with others like her. Put it this way: in the mirror, I looked tall and willowy. It was dark in there--I can't stand the hideous overhead light of most exercise classes. And the music was real music--not just a vague, pounding bass to lift your knees to, but salsa and meringue and hip-hop and belly-dance tunes to facilitate some actual shimmying and booty-shaking. Which is what we did, by the way. A lot of that. I am sort of known in Nia circles for being "the girl with the hips," and let's just say some of these gals put me to shame. Which is fine, because I intend to go back, and often, and anything creaky will eventually get greased.
Wednesday I had a blind date. Of sorts. After my camp reunion last fall, someone posted my report of the weekend on the camp Facebook page, and this gal read it and noticed I live in San Diego. She does, too. She sent me a message and we've been chatting. We didn't know each other at camp, or even remember each other from the reunion. But Wednesday we had lunch and you know what? I like her. A lot. Which is weird, because you know what they say: Once you're a fully-formed adult, you only like 50 percent of the people you meet. ("Percentage seems high," David once remarked.) Her name is Amy, and the first check in her column was the restaurant she chose, Claire's on Cedros, which I'd never heard of even though it's close to David's work. I love a girl who knows her restaurants. And she was willing to split a burger with me: check two! She was charming and bubbly and a good listener, and can come up with a killer life story when asked. We even have a coincidental connection: she used to teach at Mary and Paul's school, and her daughters go to ceramics camp with Joy. Dare I hope for a second date?
That night, I had a Mom's Night Out with four of the moms from Jarrah's class. We had a cabana at Lei Lounge and it was a fried food and frosty, coconut-y drink extravaganza. I must confess we got a little silly and loud. Our waiter, Sven (Sven!), claimed to be a furniture-making artist, but he may also be an underwear model in his spare time. Not that we saw his underwear, mind you. I'm just saying I think he's got the right stuff. We may have teased him mercilessly for several hours. If we did, I'm certainly not telling.
Thursday, David and I had a very civilized date night, going to see my friend Lisa in the play All My Sons by Arthur Miller. A post-WWII family tragedy, the play was absorbing and beautiful and heart-breaking. You know, just like Hot Tub Time Machine. Lisa was electrifying, and she totally rocked the 1940s hair and makeup. David and I both marveled afterward how involved we were in the progression of the story. Imagine that.
And today begins the final (!) weekend of Sylvia. I'm sure it will be a fun one. My parents are coming Saturday night, which will be the first time they've seen me in a show since the first one, a year and a half ago. As a cast, we're finding our groove now, and I will miss my time with Connie and Jess backstage, whispering and giggling about our histories in the way people trapped backstage always do.
And don't even get me started on the fact that Jarrah only has a few more weeks at preschool and then is done forever. Because I'm trying to stay upbeat here.