Monday, June 20, 2005
(from JCC Detroit)
The Jewish Community Center locker room is one of my most favorite places in the whole world. Where else can you go and hear juicy gossip screamed out loud from locker section to locker section by hard of hearing elderly women? (Just so you know, it's not just juicy gossip, it's JUICY gossip! So scandalous that I dare not repeat anything here). Where else can you go, knowing without a doubt there will always be someone WANTING to listen to you kvetch about your latest ailment. Angina, arthritis, cataracts, colonoscopies, you name it, they talk about it in the locker room. Yes, the JCC locker room is quite a place and I got to take a rare night out at "The J." tonight.
About two weeks ago or so, Noah was kicked out of the babysitting room at the J. for being "too difficult". In my opinion, the woman watching Noah just liked to plop him in his stroller or in their swing. Of course the kid is going to cry, he's 7 months old and wants to move around! They couldn't get him to stop crying and the fitness center director happened to come by and hear him. She picked him up and took him to her office and he was happy as a clam sitting on her lap, playing with the telephone cord and other desk do-dads while she made calls. I could see it all through the glass window in her office while I was working out. See! He's not hard! Just give him a little smile and don't stick him in a baby container with nothing to explore.
Anyway...so since we are banned, I must resort to infrequently exercise at night. Let me, I , whoever, whatever the saying is, tell you. I AM BEAT ! It's hard to workout after a full 12 hours of taking care of a baby. In the end though, I'm glad that I went. I need to exercise more, I'm starting to look like a log.
I left around 7:30, just as Noah was about to go to bed. It was difficult leaving my two guys, I was really surprised. It was ok though, I played a little "Rufus Wainwright" on the over and opened the sunroof. Agh...it was almost as though I was 26 again....when life was not a giant stress ball.
I really hate pulling into the parking lot at the JCC. It's full of domestic cars or Japanese autos. I drive a German car. German cars are not very popular at the Jewish Community Center. Sometimes I swoop in, park and run really fast from my car as not to be seen, but I suppose some crazy chick running through the parking lot might call more attention in the end.
Going in tonight I prided myself on being very modest looking. It was actually by accident but I suppose I scored my highest score in "looking Orthodox " points. I wore a long skirt today and had my hair tied up and covered with a scarf/headband thing. It was only to keep the bangs that I foolishly cut myself last month out of my face while exercising. I was halfway to becoming the frum goddess that I am. The tee-shirt and long, real ponytail, not wig must have given away my true identity. No, I am not orthodox, just your neighborhood secular Jew or as Belief Net would say "Neo-Pagean/Liberal Quaker".
I did 30 minutes of cardio on the elliptical and called it a night. Hey! You try to exercise after a 12 hour shift!
I went into the locker room and took what seemed like my first not-rushed shower in 7 months. It was great.
On the way out I passed a guy in the hall. He was orthodox and I think he must have been a "Bucher", a Yeshiva student. Oh, a yeshiva is a school where men study Jewish religion intensely. I think I scared the crap out of him or disgusted him. Either way, not good. The poor guy put his head down and stared at the floor as soon as he saw me coming. It seemed in slow motion as we walked towards each other down that empty, long hall. I wasn't as modest coming out as I was going in. The denim knee length skirt and dripping wet, wild hair must have been a bit of a repulsive scene to him. Oh well, I can always try hard to be a good frummy if I decide to.
The point is, that I had a great time tonight and I love the JCC. It's my second home and everyone there, even the Bucher I freaked out is like my second family. The end.