Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts
By Alyce Wilson
April 2, 2007 - Wild Mimzy
The Gryphon and I enjoyed a quiet weekend. I spent much of Saturday working on Wild Violet.
We did go out for breakfast, and again, for dinner and a movie later.
We were going to try the Charlie Brown steakhouse in Springfield, but there was a 40-minute wait, so we went to Bertucci's instead, where we seated within minutes.
Americans love their steaks.
We saw The Last Mimzy, which I didn't know much about going into it. The Gryphon tells me it's based on a short story. As the Lewis Carroll connection became clearer, I really enjoyed it. Those who know me, or are regular readers of Musings, know my affection for the Wonderland tales.
Overall, a beautiful movie and a great family film. It has the same sense of wonder as movies like ET and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, along with a spiritual dimension.
On Sunday, I worked in the morning and then did a little more with Wild Violet before The Gryphon and I went out for dinner, this time to J.B. Dawson in Drexel Hill. The Gryphon was still jonesing for a steak.
I ordered the salmon with green beans almondine and a salad. Yum. Plus, between the two dinners out, I've now got leftovers for a couple days.
This morning I was working out at the YMCA and one of the trainers noticed me doing bicep curls. He cautioned me to keep my back steady, to keep my elbows down and my arms bent, and even though I did exactly what he said, he shook his head side to side. "You need a trainer," he said.
Weak-willed wimp that I am, I almost began to cry; I can't afford extra money to hire a trainer, even at the YMCA. Not with the wedding to pay for this year.
Seeing the expression in my face, he backpedaled: "Or have Joe show you how to do it right. He does it well." Joe is one of the older members of the YMCA, a silver-haired, muscular guy who looks like he could have been a career military guy and is always flirting with the older ladies. He's never hit on me, but he is terribly talkative, and I just know that if I ask him to help me, I'll add about another 20 minutes to my workout time, just from the kibitzing.
Maybe next time I'll use the bicep machine, because at least it forces you to use good form. And I'll pick up tips here and there, when I overhear them from the trainers. I feel like I'm in a sitcom.
In the decidedly unfunny category, I learned this weekend that my mom recently experienced symptoms suggestive of a stroke, including blurred vision, slurred speech and a temporary inability to move one of her arms.
However, despite the advice of my dad, an osteopath, she refused to go to the emergency room, because she said the symptoms went away within an hour or so. My Dad and my entire family have been urging her ever since to make an appointment with a new doctor (her old one having closed her practice), and to talk to him immediately to determine if she needs any testing or treatment.
Hopefully, she'll get in soon, because until then, worry forms a constant undercurrent in my thoughts.
Moral:
Even the most peaceful mood can be interrupted by worry.
Copyright
2006 by Alyce Wilson
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