Editing, Shmediting...

Been working on my manuscript consistently now for a few weeks and it feels great. One thing I need to remind myself about though, is to eat BEFORE going to a coffeehouse to work. I had no choice today because I headed out to my editing session after a trip to the dentist (thankfully, today I didn't get my teeth cleaned by the Bitch of Buchenwald...but that's another story...). So, needless to say, I had to grab my lunch at Starbucks--which limited me to a selection of uber fattening pastries or the one and only sandwich choice: turkey with Monterey Jack cheese and some sort of pobleno-type mayo.

Despite my smallish frame, I'm still a weight watcher...so when I see a sandwich that's 520 calories and 20 grams of fat and NO FIBER, I get a little nervous; but I figured the sandwich would be the better option over the Top Pot Doughnuts or the black bottom cupcakes. Hell, I figured I was being "good" by getting a Mocha Light Frappuccino, so I ate the sandwich with only the slightest hesitation (and the comfort of knowing I couldn't look up my Weight Watcher points online until after the deed--or feed, as it were--was done). In the end, I'm down 12 points for the day...just enough for dinner but no dessert, which is going to be a bit tough given that my darling husband just announced he wanted to join me this evening in another work session at Zoka, which offers a selection of scrumptious delights.

Good thing I did an hour of plyometrics today!

Anyway, so while I was plugging away on my laptop, a guy sat down in a chair across from me and he said, "Hey, you work out at xxx gym, don't you?"
"I used to," I said. "I switched to a gym that has daycare."
Looking up, I immediately identified him as the man in my old gym that dresses like Spiderman (blue spandex pants/tight red spandex shirt).
"Yeah, you also live right by me too," he said. "You live in (neighborhood)?"
I nodded in assent and learned he lives only one block away from me.
"You have a great house," he said.
"Thanks," I smiled.
And that was that. Spidey and I introduced ourselves formally, swapped bathroom remodel stories and then he left me to go back to my edits. He's a really nice guy, but he'll forever be known to me as Spiderman.

Speaking of my new gym...I loathe it. I hate the fact that I have to drive 8 miles to my gym (when I could walk to my old one in minutes), but my new one has daycare and that enables me to work out for two hours a day--something I was really missing since we brought Mr. Na home. Jazzercise was doing nothing for me, although I still go once a week because Na made some really great friends there and I like the people too.

But I can tell that my new gym is the only one around that has daycare because of the sea of minivans parked in the lot (I will NEVER succumb to a minivan...EVER). Their daycare facility is tremendous, which is a huge plus--but the moms who go there to work out act like they're in high school, complete with the huge clique. Incidentally, these are the same women who took their kids to Na's first soccer class last year. They all went through prenatal yoga together and so their kids are all the same age and so they do EVERYTHING together...from soccer to swimming to working out and now, I seriously think, they vacation together because NONE of them were at the gym today. Most of the time, when I do see them there, they aren't working out. Instead, they're talking on their cell phones or just standing there (or better yet just SITTING on the equipment) chatting with one another. It's quite the scene.

At first glance, the women's locker room is pretty swank. "Spa Music" is piped in overhead and the showers have nice pressure...but almost a little too nice. The other day, as I was putting on my makeup in front of the mirrors, I heard a woman in the shower directly behind me moan a little bit. The first couple of times, I didn't really think too much about it...but as her moans grew a little louder (even rising above the whir of my blow dryer...I shit you not) and more frequent, I got pretty grossed out. Look, I'm all for getting yourself off in the shower, if that's what floats your boat...BUT DO IT IN YOUR OWN GODDAMNED SHOWER, AND NOT IN THE WOMEN'S LOCKER ROOM WHICH, BY THE WAY, ALLOWS MOTHERS TO BRING IN CHILDREN UNDER FIVE.

Of course, she had this big goofy grin on her face when she opened the shower curtain. Funny thing is...she had her bathing suit on...

Anyway, I guess these are small prices to pay for having daycare at my gym. If anything, it's writing fodder, hey?