Rounding the Bend

Yesterday was my last online Zumba class. After more than two years of (sporadically) exercising online, my Zumba instructor is going back to teaching in person. He gradually started back in person, going one day a week. Now, he's all in person.

Today, I attended my first in person yoga class since the pandemic. My gym was hopping this evening--so busy. I've exercised in the evenings before, riding the elliptical alone.

My team is back in the office two days a week. The guys on the team are exhausted from coming in two days a week. I can understand. I am tired, too.

I feel like I am coming around the corner, coming around the bend from the pandemic. Who knew it would have hit us all so hard? I know the world won't get back together the same way that it was before the pandemic, but it is coming back together. It takes energy to get back to the new normal, to find old friends, and make new ones in this new world.

A Swan Lake Confession from a Balletophile*

I love going to the ballet. I grew up dancing and I love to watch it as an adult. I've had season tickets to the Pacific Northwest Ballet for years.

Every few years, PNB trots out Swan Lake, the grande dame of classical ballet. I bought a DVD of Swan Lake performed by a German ballet company, and I had it going in the background when the kids were little. I love listening to the Tchaikovsky score. The pas de quatre or the Dance of the Little Swans is one of my favorites. So beautiful.

And yet...

The past three times I've seen Swan Lake, I've fallen asleep when the swans come on stage in Act II. It is just because I am sitting in a dark and warm theater after a big dinner and a glass of wine that makes me nod off? The music is slow, as is the dancing. (The exciting leaps and jumps come in Act III where the Black Swan shows up.) The first time I fell asleep during Swan Lake, I thought I was just tired. The same with the second time. But the third? I see a pattern.  Or do I just not like the swan lake part of Swan Lake?

Is there there something wrong with me? Can I call myself a true ballet fan when I think the best known and best part of ballet is...boring? Maybe I should give the ballet a full chance in the morning after brisk walk and a cappuccino.

Aside from falling asleep when the swans come on stage, I still had fun at the performance last night. This is a big ballet where the stage is filled with dancers. This was the first time I've seen a full house since the pandemic. The crowd was loud and appreciative. In Act III with black swan, the crowd was wild. (Well, wild for a ballet crowd. We are not talking about English Premier League hooligan wild.) I could tell the dancers could feel the crowd's excitement. They must have been happy to perform for people instead of a camera.

* The real term for someone who loves ballet is "balletomane." I discovered that when I googled "balletophile."

Fox Dog and Return to Work

My dog Fox loves to sleep. He practically sleeps all day. He loves to be outside, but he hates to go outside. More specifically, he hates getting his leash on. When I get his leash, Fox hides under the dining room chairs so it is hard to grab him. 

But once the leash is on, Fox runs to the door, ready to go. He stands with his nose at the threshold so he doesn't miss the opening. When he gets outside, he doesn't want to come back home. I have to walk him in a loop route so he can't figure when we are turning around to go back home. If I do a "there-and-back" walk, he will balk, and refuse to head in the direction from where he came.

So it is with return to work after being remote for more than two years. Many people where I work don't want to go into the office. The trudge of getting out of bed and dressed and riding a bus to the city seems horrible. Making a plan to leave the house for a whole eight hours seems crazy.

But I am like Fox. I am slow to start, but once I am awake and ready and figured out what to wear, I can't wait to get out the door.

 

Love and Distance

Yesterday, I ran a bunch of errands. Most of them were meh. I had to get compost bags and Kleenex because I was out of both. This was a tedious errand that I put off until I ran out of compost bags. I was in Northeast Seattle, so I went to the U Village Bartells to shop. I drudged to the store and bought my stuff. Interestingly, I was at U Village earlier this weekend to get my haircut, and that was not a drudge. I was happy to drive north.

I could have run my errand at the CVS on 4th and Lenora, but I had thought oh my god that is soooo far to walk. Oy. I can't do that. Yet, when I think of going to Top Pot donuts on 5th and Lenora, one block further, I have no problem with that. I am perfectly fine to walk that far. It is a joy to walk to walk to Top Pot.

Why?

I think there must be some correlation between love and distance. For things we love, distance isn't a hassle. 

Back to Work

Tomorrow feels like it day of school. Except it is work. The corporation I work for is officially opening the office Monday morning after working remotely for twenty-six months because of the pandemic. 

I'll be one of the new kids, just like there are always new kids who start a new school in the fall. I have been in the office for a few days in the past month, which makes me like the nerd who went to summer school. As the new kid, no one will see my hair and go "What the heck happened? It is so long!" They don't know they I gained thirty pounds because they don't know what I looked like before. They won't say "You found cupcakes instead of sit-ups during the pandemic!" They don't know I at one point lost ten pounds, but I gained it back. Ugh. Re-gaining lost weight isn't as awful as people think. When I re-gain weight, I think I am glad I didn't add another ten pounds to my prior weight. If I hadn't previously lost that weight, I'd be enormous by now.

(My hairdresser thinks I've lost weight since I've seen him, so that is good.)

Since the pandemic, I lost my ability to pull together an outfit. Before the pandemic, I had a few dozen combinations for my clothes that looked good and pulled together. God-only-knows what I will wear tomorrow and what I will look like. Today, I went to Easter Brunch with a friend, and I had no idea what to wear because I forgot how to dress, especially for a season or an occasion. For the past two years, I've worn yoga pants and gray sweater dresses. Every day of the fucking pandemic. Yes, I wore charcoal colored clothes in July. Because I could. All of the seasons blurred together. I went to dinner with my friend H once last year and I wore a long sleeve black turtle neck and an ankle length skirt. In May. I looked like I was going to a Christmas party but I was six months late.

Speaking of parties...the people at HQ are going to have food and whatnot for the first two weeks back, like a party. Which of course is very nice, but after the pandemic when everyone has been sitting at home on Zoom meetings and eating breakfast, lunch and dinner in our pajamas, maybe they should open a gym with yoga and pilates and give gift cards to Nordstrom to buy new clothes instead of having feast. Wasn't every day during the pandemic a feast? All food a no movement?

Some people might have gotten a lit of exercise during the pandemic, but I wasn't one of those people. I feel like I've wasted the pandemic. There was a golden opportunity to do sit-ups or lunges or squats every day three times a day. I'd be in the best shape ever if I had done that. Instead, I moved my snack basket ten feet from my desk. It was a lose-lose situation. I wasn't even getting in steps to get a snack. No wonder I gained thirty pounds. Oh well. I can always fix that in the next pandemic.

Table for One

Lately, I have been dining alone, whether dinner or lunch. Going out has been easier now in Seattle as the city is opening up more and more since the pandemic. When I go into the office, very few people are there so I've been eating lunch alone as well.

And I love it.

Of course, I also love having dinner with companions, but I am surprised how much I don't mind eating alone. I thought I would hate it and fear it, but instead it is interesting. If I sit at the counter, I watch how the staff at the restaurant works. If I sit at a table, I hear other people's conversations floating by. In a loud restaurant, it is hard to hear, but in a quieter place, I can hear everything, whether I want to or not.

Sometimes the conversations are business dinners or meals between work colleagues. The other day at lunch, I witnessed a disastrous first date. Watching people interact in the wild is better than watching television. I'm not kidding, as in "you can't make this up." I would share all of the details of this train-wreck date, but then I would be like Lady Whistledown from Bridgerton, the wallflower gossip who dishes dirt on the rest of the town. But seriously, this guy could use some pointers on what to say and what not to say on a first date. I was curious what his companion thought. It would have been rude to for me to ask her or to offer my opinion, I suppose.

Sometimes, going to dinner alone is like watching television, but other times I get to play a role myself. Last night, Pedro was going to join me for dinner but he was stuck at Alpental after a terrific day of skiing. ("Free refills" is how he later described what it was like skiing while six inches of snow fell in the afternoon.) Even though he couldn't make it, I decided to go to dinner anyhow. 

I got to the restaurant and told the waiter I would be dining alone as Snoqualmie Pass closed and my son was stuck at the mountain. The couple next to me asked about the snow, and we started a nice conversation that floated on and off during the meal. They also have an eighteen year old son, and their family skis and fishes.

A few months ago, my friend Holly from my condo and I went to dinner. There was a guy dining alone next to us, and she offered her opinions on the menu, which then opened the door for conversation. He had grown-up in Seattle, but was now living in California. Before we knew it, the three of us were sharing chocolate mousse for dessert.

I think what I like about eating alone is the adventure. When I go out with friends, the whole experience is somewhat predictable, even if we go to a new place. With friends, I am in a bubble at the restaurant with them, not necessarily connecting to other experiences around. When I am alone, it is me and the venue. Who knows how the evening will turn out?

Best. Day. Ever. (since the pandemic) and the Wonderful World of Work

Maybe yesterday wasn't the best day in total since the pandemic, but it work-wise, it was.

Yesterday was the first time in more than two years that I got to brainstorm with someone on a whiteboard.  This kind of collaboration is why I get out of bed in the morning to go to work.

The smell of the unscented dry erase markers.

The erasing the board with the side of your hand.

The misspelled words.

The back and forth of rapid changing ideas.

The give and take.

Planting seeds for other ideas to grow.

All so wonderful

And splendid.

My Daily Dose of Failure

Thanks to my dear son, I have been playing more complicated Wordle games recently. Octordle is a game where eight words are solved at the same time. Sedecordle has sixteen. I think there are twenty-one guesses to solve for sixteen words, and thirteen guesses for eight words.

In the past week, there were several days where I failed to solve all of the words. I'd screw up on a word like _ound. The answer could be pound, bound, mound, round, hound, found, sound or wound. I'd blindly guess, and waste my guesses. I should have waited until more letters were revealed later in the puzzle.

My losing streaks are interesting.

Previously, I would have vexed as to why I couldn't solve all of the words. Or been upset. Or doubled-down and done everything not to fail again. Or, I'd think the universe was trying to tell my something--that I have been distracted and unable to concentrate. It was a sign of weakness or distress.

I think the universe is trying to tell me something else:

Lighten up.

Now, my daily dose of failure makes me a better player. I learn from my mistakes, and then don't repeat them.

And it is fun, even when I fail. Instead of thinking of myself as having failed, I give the puzzle creators a nod for making a good puzzle. ("Mimic." Really? That is a beast of a Wordle word, using three uncommon letters, two of them twice!)

I am learning to be more gentle with myself when I fail.

Damn You, Netflix!

Yesterday, I had kind of a cold. Or allergies. Most likely allergies. Anyway, I was feeling low-grade crappy so I decided to check out an episode or two of Bridgerton.

Four hours later...

Oy. 

The show kinda sucks in the best and worst ways. It is a romance so pulls you into the question and needing to know if the lovebirds get together eventually. It is beautifully set and the characters are dreamy. It sucks in the worst way because there are all of these bullshit obstacles and the characters' weak inner conflicts that are put there by the writers to increase the drama and tension. Will the lovebirds chose love or duty? (Hint: this isn't "The Crown.") Good lord it is like watching a ping pong contest of good people making bad choices. And I was sucked in until midnight when I should have looking at my taxes.

Giving Up vs Starting Over

Pedro is really into games and puzzles. He and his dad work the New York Times Spelling Bee, a game where they give you seven letters with one central letter and you have to see how many words you can make from those letters. Pedro introduced me to several kinds of Wordle puzzles, one where you solve for sixteen words at the same time. (See www.sedecordle.com)

My favorite puzzle in the New York Times is the Crytogram where you have to decipher the words. Since the pandemic started, the Cryptogram is in the Tuesday and Thursday paper. Every now and then, Pedro and I will work on one together.

This week, both the Tuesday and Thursday puzzles kicked my butt.

Solving the cryptogram is a zen like experience. Normally, once I get a word or two, I can solve the whole thing. The words come to me from another part of my brain, and I am in the flow. It is a beautiful thing. On rare occasions, I have to sneak a hint the next day when the answers are published. 

This time I was befuddled. Here is the puzzle:

ZCS GNVV FVGFZK KUFZ ZCSBL NH ZCS LPU POPEMNKP, PFU XECXPEVZ FBJ VNP FRCSU ZCSE FLP.

Here is how I solve the puzzle typically:

1. Look for the one letter words, and see if "A" or "I" fits better in the puzzle.
2. Are there apostrophes? The letters following an apostrophe are usually t, s, l, re, or ve.
3. See if you can make sense of the two letter words. 
4. Look at the pattern of the words in the sentence. Which words could be "the" or "and"?

I am not sure how else to describe how I solve the puzzle. I read (part of) The Code Book by Simon Singh and I must have picked up a few pointers there. I have done a lot these, and practice helps, too.

In the puzzle above, I saw the pattern in the words ZCS, ZCSBL and ZCSE. I figured this was The, Their, and either Then, Them or They. 

I was wrong, but man I kept trying to get those words to fit! I kept trying and trying and trying. I was stuck. When I looked at the answers the next day, I saw that it something else.

I told Pedro, "Sometimes when you are working on these puzzles and you have a pattern in mind that doesn't work, you need to give up and erase everything you have."

"You don't mean 'give up.' You mean 'start over,'" he said. 

Wow. There is a difference in thought pattern. How often have a banged my head against the wall hoping and praying things outside of my control would change? Stopping banging my head against the wall isn't giving up. It means have the space to start over and try something new.