Thanks Chubby
It started out as an ordinary day. Moments after waking, my brain shook itself out of fuzziness, and the script of today’s agenda began to roll. I was looking forward to all the things I want to do: rake some leaves and yank a few unwelcome weeds out of the flower beds (how can they be growing at this time of year?), finish installing edgers next to the pathway that goes up the hill, dump a bag of mulch around the catalpa tree, walk the dog, try a new recipe I found for pineapple raisin cookies. That’s 50/50. They might be delicious or they might be inedible, but that’s why the recipe needs a trial run. After that, I’ll run a couple of errands and call my sister-in-law before I settle into the studio to do some stitching.
It’s quite an extensive undertaking, this day ahead, but I was excited to get going. I turned and reached for my glasses on the nightstand, and that’s when I discovered a whole new meaning for Twist and Shout. I do not appreciate it when my backbone speaks to me in that tone of voice! A few muscles chimed in, too.
Everything I plan to do today—gardening, bending over the oven to retrieve cookie sheets, walking, driving–everything requires the flexibility to bend and stretch, reach and twist. The Twist, that dance that absolutely everybody was doing, was so way cool, and, in its heyday, members of the medical community weighed in and gave approval to the whole body workout benefits of doing the Twist. I didn’t think too much about that aspect as I twisted and shouted around the high school gymnasium dance floor. Even in prom dresses and tuxedos, we twisted the night away.
Now I’m thinking the Twist might be something that I need to re-incorporate into my exercise program. I might not be able to dig out the old 45rpm, but I’m sure I still have the music in my head. I’m ready to twist again, like I did that summer.