My Zumba Experience

     In case you don't already know, a lot has happened in my life since I last wrote. Let me update you:

     I got engaged, and I got married! Whoohoo!

     I love being married, and I'm convinced that I have the best husband in the whole wide world. We've already been married four months. How time flies!

    I know that many of you have probably thought I put my blonde moments behind me once I got married since you haven't heard from me in so long, but I'm sorry to disappoint you. I have not lacked for blonde or embarrassing moments. Rather, I've been...busy. Getting engaged and married in five months is no small feat, I'm just saying. 

     I try to exercise when I can, and I saw a flyer at the library advertising a zumba class. I thought, "Why not?" 

     The only background I've had with zumba was doing a couple of DVDs at home. I figured I could do this. 

     I showed up and introduced myself to a couple of ladies since I didn't know anybody yet. The music got started and so did we. It was so much fun! I thought I was catching on pretty well, there in the back of the room in as inconspicuous place as possible. The two ladies I introduced myself to were fairly new, too, but they seemed to catch on pretty well. 

     Some of the routines got harder and I started turning when I shouldn't or turning the wrong way. The instructor yelled out instructions a couple of times when I was stumbling. I guess I wasn't as inconspicuous as I had thought. 

     Being in the back of the room has it's advantages. However, you can't hide forever because sometimes the dancing turns to the side, or heaven forbid, towards the back of the room, making me in front. Now, that's embarrassing. I have to crane my head to try and watch the people beside or behind me so that I don't look any more uncoordinated than I already am. 

     When we got to one routine that was a line dance, one kind lady stepped forward and tried to help me. 

     "Two back, two forward, one back," she instructed. I tried, and I think I got somewhat better. Maybe...At least I wasn't running in to her anymore. In my book, that's improvement. 

     I tried to console myself that it was the first time, and I just needed time to learn. It didn't help that there were actually a lot of new people there that seemed to have been doing it for years, or even decades. (I'm pretty sure they were older than they looked.)

     I talked to the instructor afterwards, and she said that after about three times, I'll catch on. Basically, two more times, and then I'm a veteran. Oh boy...that's a lot of pressure for someone who struggles with distinguishing right from left occasionally. 

     The other thing she said was as long as I have fun, that that's all that matters. 

     Hey, I may be turning, and shaking my butt, and clapping all at the wrong time, but I can have fun. 

     Yes, I can. 

     

P.S. I would just like to add a small note in regards to a previous post I had about last names. I'm happy to announce that when I married my beloved Matthew, my last name went from four letters to four letters. Yes, I went from Evangeline Rupp to Evangeline Dodd. I am most happy. 

P.S.S. Also, my husband had dinner ready for me when I came home from zumba. I told you he was the best husband in the whole wide world!

P.S.S.S. I don't think I will teach a zumba class anytime soon. 

     

Sweet Pepper vs. The Government

     As most of you know, I own a kayak. I got it last year at Menards and was enjoying myself very much until one day...

     I was talking with a friend about my kayak, which I affectionately dubbed Sweet Pepper. My friend said she had a kayak too, but that it wasn't registered.

     "Wait. Registered? For what?" I asked.

     "You have to have your kayak registered in Ohio, but you don't have to in Indiana," she said matter-of-factly.

     "Ha! You're kidding! What, seriously?" I chortled, hardly able to believe it.

     "Yea, for real. It's the rules," she reassured me.

     I couldn't believe it. Seriously?! Make someone register their KAYAK? This couldn't be real. So I went to the source of all knowledge--Google. Sure enough, you had to register your kayak AND pay to get it registered!!!!

     I was in shock. Then I was mad.

     The government obviously doesn't have a enough money from what they have already wrung from us in taxes, and they certainly don't have enough control over us either, so they decided to make adventure seekers register their canoes and kayaks.

     My thought is...where will this end? Will I need to register my bike? What about my rollarblades? Technically, they are a mode of transportation. Oh well, why stop there? Let's register our shoes too. Wouldn't want those little babies to go missing.

     What exactly do they expect me to do in my kayak anyway? I can see the scenario now...

     There I'll be, speeding through a lake at unprecedented speeds until the DNR catches up with me.

     "Take your hands OFF the paddle," comes a booming voice from a megaphone while they shine lights on me. "We have clocked you going 10 miles an hour in this lake with the wind, and that is illegal. We are going to have to give you a ticket, ma'm. Oh looky there, Frank, she doesn't have the little registration numbers on the side of her boat. It's not registered. This isn't looking good, ma'm. This isn't looking good."

     What are they gonna do? Stick me in jail?

     There I'll sit in CCNO with all the other inmates. After staring at each other for awhile, we'll get around to talking about why we're incarcerated.

    "What are you in for?" a gruff woman will ask another who has a hardened look about her.

     "Robbed a gas station," she sniffs with an arrogant air, proud of her attempt.

     "What about you? the woman asks a girl in her twenties.

     "Arson."

     "You?" she finally asks me.
 
     All eyes turn to look at me, and I cower under their gaze.

     I clear my throat trying to sound tough.

     "Didn't register my kayak," I squeak out.

     I'd also like to point out that people like Daniel Boon, Davy Crocket, and Lewis and Clark would have been on my side. I know this. They were pioneers and explorers, and if some little dude from the DNR came up to them and told them they had to register their canoes and rafts with the title office or else, I'm pretty sure, they would have gotten knocked in the head with the butt of a rifle and left to fend for themselves.

     I feel like I have several good arguments for why it is not right for us to be made to register our kayaks.  I generally am a law abiding citizen and I try to be conscientious in my taxes and work, but there comes a time when a patriot is pushed too far, and registering my kayak was that line. I refused.

     The topic came up again this spring as I've been thinking about going out kayaking again. My boyfriend and my parents thought differently than I did. They were of the opinion that I should obey the law. I gave Pop and Matt all my reasons, but they seem unconvinced and unimpressed.

     So how does this story end? Did I stick to my guns and end up getting fined? (Matt said he would have laughed at that). Did I cave and end up registering after all so that I was once again a law-abiding citizen?

     Well, I won't make you guess and wait until the next post. I'll tell you.

     I registered it. Ugh.

The Scarf

     My dearly beloved brother, Peter aka Joe, bought me a scarf in Thailand or one of those countries he visited when he was over in Taiwan. (He couldn't quite remember where he got it.) It's lovely with big chunky stitches, small sequins tastefully placed, and it's a nice tan color that goes with a lot. The only thing is, it's rather large. By large, I mean large. I'm not that big of a person. At least height wise. Width wise is debatable. Anyway, moving on...

     Sheer intimidation and a tinge of laziness had kept me trying out the Pete's gift this year, but after a fruitful trip to Goodwill, I was feeling ready to take on The Scarf. I had just purchased a tan and white striped shirt that it would go well with, so I tried it on.

     "Kinda looks like a yoke," Mom said when I wrapped it around my neck twice. Kinda felt like a yoke too. I'm pretty sure I could have lost my cell phone in there or maybe a small sandwich.

     I fiddled and fumbled with The Scarf but couldn't come up with a good way for me to still be visible underneath it. That's when I brought Joe onto the scene.

    In my opinion, Joe is the expert on tying things. He looks up websites and youtube videos on how to tie scarves and ties, and then he applies his knowledge to his own wardrobe or helps others' with theirs as was the case this particular day.

     He wrapped and fiddled and finally got The Scarf downsized enough for me to look out and for my shirt to be seen underneath it. We were headed in the right direction.

     I decided to wear it to Defiance to have coffee with a friend, and after awhile, I began to realize my neck was hurting. The Scarf just kept on giving because on the way home, my lap felt really warm and I looked down to see that The Scarf had pooled on my legs, acting as an insulating blanket. Let's just say that if Sweet Char had gotten stuck in the ditch that night, I would have been nice and toasty and had room for two more adults and one small child.
     
     As the cold winter continues, more adventures with The Scarf might be inevitable.

Sorry, Sweet Char

     It was a cold, snowy night and Pete, Matt (my amazing boyfriend), and I had just gotten out of the movie theater in downtown Bryan after watching the The Hobbit. There was hardly anyone on the roads because we had had quite the winter storm so only snowplows and crazy people (like us) were out. The courthouse was pristine in Christmas lights with snow everywhere. This is where my story goes from warm and fuzzy to blonde. 

      Matt helped me scrape off Sweet Char since she was covered in snow and some ice. For some reason, I decided I needed to open my back passenger door, and I'm thinking it was to put away my snow scraper. Anyway, the door was stuck or rather frozen shut. Naturally, I pulled harder. And harder. And harder. The handle decided to come off. Oops. Sorry, Sweet Char. 

      To make matters worse, when I went to open it from the inside, I found out that it wasn't frozen shut at all. It had been locked. Now, THAT was Sweet Char's fault. 

     I believe Matt was rather amused by the situation because when I offered him my brush and scraper for his car, Bucky, he smugly replied that he already had a brush, scraper, AND a handle. Oh boy...he totally deserved any snow I may have chucked at him later on that evening. 

I Didn't Mean To

     It's been awhile since I've written and I had a good blonde moment I was planning on writing about, but I totally forgot it. Moving on...

     I did run over a tombstone.

     I tried to move it back.

     In heels.

     I was partially successful.

     I had to call the trustee.

     I didn't mean to desecrate a grave.

     It was Sweet Char's fault.

     The end.

Tubing, Jets Skis, and Grover

     Once upon a time, it was a nice sunny day. The flowers were blooming, the water was pristine and...  

     I just wanted to start my story out like that, but following that stream gets difficult since my life isn't a fairy tale, so I decided to take my usual, realistic approach.

     It was fairly hot and I was lost and late. Not a good combination. Besides that, no one had phone reception since they were all on the boat tubing and I couldn't find the public access dock. It was killing me. If there's anything I like it's water. If there's anything I don't like it is being unable to get to the water where all my friends are enjoying themselves.

     Finally, I saw the public access dock across the lake (without the help of my stupid GPS, I might add), made my way there, and parked. I walked out on the dock and after awhile, I spotted my friends and tried the waving-from-the-dock approach but it didn't work. They were too concentrated on drowning the tubers behind the boat. So I sat down and waited.

     There was an unassuming man, probably in his fifties, fishing off the bank to my right.

     "Catch anything?" I asked. Might as well make conversation with a stranger rather than feel sorry for myself because I wasn't tubing.

     "Nope. Never been here before. Do you know if you're allowed to drink on this lake?"

     "No, I don't know," I replied. "I don't drink."

     "Are you still in school or what do you do?" he asked.

     "Well, I graduated from beauty school in October."

     "You look like you graduated from beauty school. I graduated from ugly school."

     I could have asked him what year he graduated, but I wisely refrained.

     "God doesn't make anybody ugly," I replied, but I guess I'm wrong because, well, I won't finish that thought.

     "I'm Grover, by the way," the man said.

     A little while later, Grover's two brothers sailed in on jet skis. One had a lady friend with him. They beached their jet skis and then got ready to fish with Grover.

     "Hey, if you guys go out again, flag down her friends for her," Grover said in a passing comment.

     The brothers didn't say much so I let my hope die for a little while.

     "Yea," I said a few minutes later, "If you do go out again, could you just let them know I'm here."

     "Well, you can take it out," brother number one said.

     "Grover, go with her and bring back the jet ski," brother number two added on.

     Although Grover and I had just started a rather awkward acquaintanceship, I was more than willing to do what it took to get out on the water and finally get to go tubing. I also wasn't entirely against the fact that I would get to ride a jet ski.

     I thought Grover was going to drive, but brother number one indicated that I could. "You ever driven one of these before?" he asked.

     "Um, well, I think a friend let me drive one once," I said sounding very convincing.

     "You can do it," he said and gave me a quick 2 second tutorial.

     Grover jumped on and we were off. I love the wind and water and speed, but I didn't gun it like I wanted to because I didn't want to wreck a stranger's jet ski and I really wanted to tube. There were some big waves and those were fun. I really want a jet ski now. Ahem, moving on...

     So Grover and I jet skiid around the lake and couldn't find my friends. It was almost as if they disappeared. Grover did say my hair smelled nice, which was really weird, but I just told him it better smell nice because I put enough product in it.

     We finally found a channel to go through and it opened up into a whole new part of the lake. I found my friends and followed them, and although they waved back, they didn't know it was me. Finally, some tubers fell off, and without running them over (a fact of which I am very proud), I came along side the boat.

     "Vange?!" Phil, my brother, asked incredulously. "What are you doing?"
 
     "You guys didn't see me on the dock so I came to you," I replied. I have to say that I was pretty proud of driving a jet ski and finding a way out to the boat. I'm dedicated to tubing. I think I made that very clear that day.

     Phil, and Dave, the driver and owner of the boat, helped me in. I thanked Grover and waved goodbye.

     "Who was THAT?!" Phil asked.

     "I think his name was Grover."

     "You don't even know his name?!"

     So began all the jokes and crap everyone gave me for riding a random stranger's jet ski. Hey, I'm willing to sacrifice for my dreams, even if it means driving a jet ski.

     Oh, and the tubing was totally worth it...whiplash and all.

   

My Take on Drive Throughs and Car Washes

     Have you ever been to a drive through at a fast food restaurant and been completely unsure of what you're ordering? I know I have. I would love to sit there and peruse the menu comparing prices, gluten-free foods, and dessert options, but you literally have 2.3 seconds before a cheery voice comes over the intercom and asks, "Do you want to try our new greasy combo meal for $5.99?" 

     I always say "no" to those sales gimmicks as a rule even if I might have eaten them otherwise. Then comes the big question. "What would you like to order?" 

     Ahhhh! I always know this moment is coming, but I'm never quite prepared. Sometimes, I just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind even if it's completely different than what I thought I would get initially. Other times, I waver back and forth until I feel the impatience of the employee and the anger of the people in the car behind me. I hate that pressure, so I usually cave and order something stupid. Like ice cream. Come to think of it, that's not stupid at all...

     Car washes. Where do I begin? 

     I'll start with some advice. Never wash your car in below freezing temperatures and try to wipe it off with towels before it cakes over with ice because it doesn't work. You also are being a bad advertisement for the car wash company because some other person might drive up to wash their vehicle, see you struggling with the ice, and decide to leave. It's not that I've ever done anything like that, it's just a good piece of advice to keep tucked away for the future. 

     Always have a plan BEFORE you put your quarters in the little car wash machine. Figuring out what button does what wastes precious seconds once they start counting down. I mean, if you don't read it and figure it out before, you might not figure out how the sprayer works until your time is over halfway done, and then you'll end up with soup suds all over your car and have to put in more quarters or drive away with soap flying everywhere. I've never done that either, but I'm thinking of these things to help you all out. 

     It's always a good idea to go to the car wash when you know there is an attendant there because they can make change for you when all you have is a ten dollar bill, and they might even give you an extra few minutes of water pressure to get all the soap off your car if you look pitiful enough. Of course, I haven't needed any of that, but some of you might. 

     I hope all of this advice has been helpful, and that none of you will make these mistakes because I sure didn't!