RE: (Humor)...ere's (ears) a little column about fitness "Sometimes It's Just Too EAR-LY"

Sometimes It’s Just Too EAR-LY

I “treat myself” to daily exercise and, oddly enough, I really do enjoy it, never considering it torture or anything negative. Until I attach technology to it.

At this juncture let us start the clock.

8:01 a.m.

I head over to the fitness center.

8:02 a.m.
But, alas, poor Yorick, this particular morning it got ugly immediately. Essentially, because my keen observational skills led me to note a couple of integral items absent from their usual spot in my rolling locker, known as a car.

Not only was my water bottle missing in action, but so were the ear buds that go with my iPod. I absolutely cannot gallop on the treadmill sans music.

8:22 a.m.
Being a somewhat resourceful woman, with cash in her change tray, off I went to purchase my auditory accessory.

8:32 a.m.
Arriving at my health club, new headphones at the ready, I hop onto the treadmill. With my keen investigational skills I notice straight away that something is awry.
The wires are quite tangled up. No problem. I can take care of that in under three minutes, leaving plenty of time before my looming 10:00 a.m. dental appointment.

8:42 a.m.
All right, so that wasn’t my personal untangling best. I’m ready now. I’ve even tucked a tissue into my pants, just in case. (It’s best not to ask, “Just in case what?”)
I swig down some water to quench the thirst I’ve developed as a result of my exhausting trek from the parking lot. Here we go.

8:50 a.m.
I’m into the zone for about eight minutes, burning enough calories to enable me to eat a lemon juice enhanced green salad for dinner. Now it’s time to access that motivational music. Let’s insert those ear buds.

8:51 a.m.
This is when I notice that one of those black cover thingies is missing in action. No biggie. I’ll just wear them anyway. (In about a minute it will become clear why these items are crucial.)

8:52 a.m.
I cannot get the danged things in, but I doggedly attempt to retain some semblance of a fast walk. I have now logged in approximately 8 minutes of exercise time.

8:59 a.m.
I am convinced I have punctured my left ear drum as I repeatedly insert and re-insert the ear bud without the cover. Contrary to what the manufacturer may have claimed, shoving the equivalent of a rubber Q-tip into the ear is not well-received by the ear.

9:06 a.m.
I spend the next 7 minutes playing around with these minuscule instruments of torture as I attempt to remember the reason I’m here; to work out my body, not my ear canals.

9:22 a.m.
“Viola!” They’re in! I am 16 minutes into the apex of this session when I realize I’ve got music pumping into my cranium at an insanity-inducing volume. The tunes are reverberating around the walls of my mind, the resultant effect being a tad bit disorienting. I need to adjust the volume or my ear canal is going to invert itself and jump out of my head.

9:23 a.m.
I struggle to maintain my stride, noting that I am almost out of time as I am perilously close to the 30-minute limit imposed by the club.

9:30 a.m.
I’m so nervous about getting kicked off the machine that I accidentally hit the cool down button. I act as though I meant to do it and bellow, “Whew!” just in case anyone is watching and rating my level of work-out intensity.

9:31 a.m.
Knowing I have barely enough time to get my heart rate up, I hit “quick work-out,” but for some reason I get diverted. That’s when I make a rookie error and bend over to take a look at my shoelaces.

9:35 a.m.
I knock the buds right out of my ear sockets and in trying to catch them I come close to pulling my knee out of its socket.

9:37 a.m.
Another couple of minutes elapse as I assess my patella for potential damage, sidling through the rest of what is now my second cool down. Dismounting I feel the white hot glare of waiting members upon me which causes me to finally break into a sweat.

9:38 a.m.
I limp over to the free weights where others are hard at work grunting, sweating, straining, and flexing. The more talented patrons accomplish this all at the same time.
As I belly up to the weight bar I overhear a woman saying she wished she had music because it makes the time go by so much faster.

They really should sell headphones in six-packs.

RE: Humor Column About Interacting With Corporate America...

Assured About Insurance

My theory is that interactions with institutions cost you, one way or another; psychically, physically or emotionally. Sometimes it’s a trifecta and, “Ding, ding, ding!” all three are launched.

You’ve got a problem with your bill? Over-billed, schmover-billed. You never received notification on that rate hike? Well, you should have known the rates were increasing. You weren’t aware of the thousand-day cancellation, notification policy? That’s odd because it’s pretty standard.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re right and they’re wrong. Eventually – and it will be eventually – you will be proven wrong. Again.

Seasons will pass, leaves will fall (and grow again) and pounds will pack on, all while you’re still on hold waiting to be told – you got it – that you are oh-so-incorrect.

While the mental price tag is a biggie the real doozy of them all is the sacrificial expense that is the wedge of time you tithed to the institutional interaction.

Nope, it’s not worth the stress and I’ve had that proven to me time and time again. These conglomerates will find a way to prevail and, ultimately, they will come out the victor. (Where are those anti-trust laws when you need them?)

In the end, you’ll still have to pay, stay, or go away, but there will be no successful, “Rage the Machine” moment to tell your grandkids about.

I’ve been there, baby. Save yourself the frustration. The only problem is that I’m often guilty of not taking my own advice and I fail to remember how exceedingly life-sucking these seemingly innocuous interactions can be.

Seasons pass, leaves fall (and grow again) and pounds pack on, so I get distracted and I forget. (Sometimes all it takes is a shiny object to distract me and render me an amnesiac, but that’s probably going to be a different column.)

My Institutional Interactional Lesson (I.L.L.) as in, “I’ll never win,” came to me via my insurance company.

The eternal optimist that I am, I had this silly notion that I would call them with a quick question and it would be answered easily. Painlessly, even.

I shudder to think what would happen if I had an accident to report, or a claim. This particular contact was necessitated by a rather plebian request for clarification of the “other dwelling” rider on my insurance policy. I was looking to ensure that we weren’t paying for more insurance than we needed, so I was seeking assurance in that regard.

A fast look-see at the amount due on our latest statement registered a mite on the high side and left me wondering if the “other dwelling” we were getting dinged for meant that the dog house on the side of our “estate” was now carrying insurance or was our garage considered the car’s dwelling? I rang them up, as the British would say, to get things cleared up.
ME: “Hello, may I please speak with Jacques French’s assistant?”

INSURANCE CONGLOMERATE RECEPTIONIST:
“He doesn’t have an assistant.”

ME: “Okay. Then, how about Mr. French himself?”

INSURANCE CONGLOMERATE RECEPTIONIST:
“He’s not here today.”

ME: “Okay. Do you know when he’ll be in?”

INSURANCE CONGLOMERATE RECEPTIONIST:
“Ummm…[looking at some sort of calendar it would seem, or consulting a clock to note the flying by of time as we have the fun that is this interchange]…he’s taking a vacation day. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

(No doubt this vacation day was necessitated by the unending fatigue he must suffer engaging in conversations like this with the receptionist.)
Seasons passed, leaves fell (and grew again) and pounds packed on, but I persevered.

ME: “Is there someone else taking his place today? Perhaps, Mrs. French?” I kidded.
Seeming not to notice my effort at levity the receptionist intoned monotonously, “No one is taking his place, really.”

Doggedly I pressed on.

ME: “Okay. Is anyone covering for him?”

INSURANCE CONGLOMERATE RECEPTIONIST:
“Not really.”

I tried another tact. Maybe she needed to take control of the problem-solving.

ME: “Any suggestions as to who I might speak with?”

INSURANCE CONGLOMERATE RECEPTIONIST:
“Sure,” she answered perkily. “I’ll put you through to Darcy.”
Excellent. I would finally speak with the reclusive and hopefully helpful Darcy via my old school land line. I was sure she would be more than willing to help me with my insurance needs, concerns, or questions. This was my big moment when I was going to be able to direct my burning question to a real, live, qualified person.
Darcy answered the telephone on the first ring with a strong and confident voice and asked me, “May I help you?”

And you know what? I’d forgotten my question.
I hung up and shuffled off to take a nap in my main dwelling.

Greetings from Ms. Write on Her Maiden Vogage Into Blog World!

Greetings from Ms. Write during this, my maiden vogage into BlogWorld!

I'm glad you kept reading, even though you saw that dreaded exclamation mark, which is usually the hallmark of an insufferably energetic scribner. I'll try to use those puppies judiciously.

I've been writing since I learned what cursive meant and I plan on continuing for as long as the vowels and consonants cooperate and form marginally amusing, mostly understandable sentences. I am a humor columnist, comedienne, teacher, published author, and former broadcast journalist so, in short, it would appear that perhaps I'm unable to keep a job?!

Writing is how I make sense of the world and this most auspicious of occasions -- Christmas Eve of 2009 -- marks a wedge of time during which I've been offered an opportunity to reflect upon the things I love to do...ergo the writing of a blog. Sometimes we don't exactly get to plan how these reflective times are presented to us and that seems to be the case with me. (Don't you just love a good mystery?) Just suffice it to say that the end product, the opportunity to have a thought or three, is not a bad thing. Not at all.

During the course of writing this blog I'll be sharing all of those tidbits you thought you could live without, like 2,010 ways to save money or "live on the cheap," pithy asides, as well as my writings related to living life on life's terms.

I hope you'll join me on this journey where I discover something...perhaps my long-lost metabolism...perhaps my sanity...perhaps my giddy belief that home is where the writing is. {:-)

Website: www.dianedeanepps.com