This is where my cell phone SHOULD be, plugged into its charger, but at 10:30 last night I realized that I didn't know where my phone was. Hmmm...when was the last time I used it?...it was at the dance studio teaching CardioFunk...uh oh....sinking feeling...200 cell phone numbers lost...husband berating me for not watching valuables closer...ugh. The studio doesn't open again until tonight's classes, so I'll just have to wait to check there. But more than 19 hours without a cell phone...? Wha, wha?
Today, the feeling is one of being in a cave with no communication with the outside world, except by email. And I am with Sweet Pea. What if something happened and I needed to call 9-1-1? What if a choreography client is trying to reach me? What if my mom calls? I'm f****d, that's what.
Another good argument for a land line, Consumerman.
This is another story that happened when I was in New York. It was so incredible to me, so unbelievably unbelievable, that three simple words could turn me into a snobby West coaster, I had to share it with the person sitting next to me on the plane, and now I'm sharing it with you.
This is a cup of so-called coffee from the little stand masquerading as a real coffee stand at the Newark Airport in New Jersey. My sister and I were of course running late, yet still decided to grab a cup of coffee before boarding the flight back to Seattle. We waited in a short line and I hastily ordered a 12-ounce drip and two bagels with cream cheese. Here's what happened after that.
A moment of confusion, then the clerk says, "Did you want anything else?"
"Nope, that's it, " I say. She gives me the total and I remember thinking that was cheap. I give her my card to pay.
My sister walks up and says, "I thought you wanted coffee..?"
This time I look confused and say, "I DID order a coffee..." and look at the clerk, who shakes her head.
I say, "I ordered a 12-ounce drip."
Then she says, "What's a 'drip?'"
I am dumbfounded. Flabbergasted. Think I am in some sort of parallel universe where they've never heard of coffee. I am back in high school.*
(*Footnote: When I was in high school I was a sarcastic little bitch, I fully admit it. Some people thought it was mean, but I thought it was funny. I'm much nicer now, now that I'm all 'grown up,' but the clerk's ridiculously absurd question sent me back to 1987.)
As the voice overhead is now announcing the final boarding call for the flight to Seattle, a number of responses go through my mind, but to the plump, coffee-ignorant girl with the greasy ponytail behind the register, I choose to say in the most icy voice I can muster, "THAT'S a COFFEE."
I hear my sister sing-songily say , "You're being mean again..." but I hold up my hand as I order a 12-ounce "coffee." I walk on the plane with a "get me out of here" and proceed to drink the worst cup of coffee ever.
"What's a drip?" I hope I never hear those words uttered from another human being again.
I almost forgot to post these pictures of friends I saw while I was in NY. This is Darren. Radio peeps will recognize him as our very-much-missed former Morning Editor. He is now at ABC Radio. This is with his new girlfriend Jenni. She's a physical therapist and works on people who perform on Broadway. Darren's a little grayer but still the same fun-loving guy!
This is Bill and his 7-year-old daughter Claire. Bill used to be the Afternoon Editor. He looks great--he lost like 20 pounds! He seemed like a bear at work, but he's more like a teddy bear. He sent me out on my very first story and taught me how to "calm down and report what I see." We really miss him at work a bunch too.
This is my friend Rima and her new baby Chloe. Rima was the first person I talked to at new student orientation at the UW in 1990. We've been friends ever since.
Just back from New York from my sister's FIFTH NPC national fitness competition and after six looong years... untold hours spent choreographing her routine and mixing music, countless days of practicing after work and on weekends, working out, doing gymnastics, painting on several coats of spray tanner and destroying many a hotel towel and force-feeding herself bland steak/chicken/fish/asparagus/oatmeal every three hours and downing two gallons of water a day... my sister Rose Hendricks finally turned "Pro" in the sport of Fitness competition.
She got second place which is fine by us, since the top 2 winners receive their Pro cards. That means they will now be able to compete in shows with other Pros, where the competition is at a much higher level, Top 5 winners receive prize money, and can land lucrative contracts as spokesmodels and appear on fitness magazine covers.
But money and fame has never been the motivating factor. Many times Rose has said, "This is what I do." Fitness became part of her identity (and mine) the moment she stepped on stage to compete for the first time back in 1996 and asked me to help. And to turn Pro in this brutal sport, in which you transform your body and dedicate part of your daily life to working out, at the age of 38---when the 4th place winner was only 17---is truly amazing and is probably the #1 item on my sister's list of Things to Do in Life that she can now cross off.
All those times I said:
do it again that wasn't clean enough your push-up didn't go down all the way you didn't hold that long enough too fast too slow it needs to be bigger smile dammit
I never told you how GOOD I think you are, did I? I am so proud of you!