Insomnia

Hello, Darlings. What on earth are you doing awake at this hour? Oh, me? Just sitting around, you know, checking your blogs in case you decided to post while I was sleeping (between two and four a.m.).

I used to be the world's premiere champion sleeper. I could sleep on the floor, in the middle of the day, in the hot and in the cold. I could sleep in a house and with a mouse. Some folks can blame their thrashing, sheet-stealing spouses when they wake in the middle of the night, but my spouse is a docile sleeper and causes me no problems. So when I wake up at four a.m., I'm still mad, but I don't even get the satisfaction of having someone to blame.

It didn't matter so much when I was actually a childless housewife, but nowadays I have three (count 'em!) forms of gainful employment, so when I don't sleep at night I can't make up for it with a three hour nap [cue the violins]. However, the real tragedy is not that I will be too tired to work. That is not an option. The real tragedy is that I will be too tired to Jazzercise.

Two weeks ago I decided to get back on the horse from which I fell when I moved to Utah in 1999. At that time, I had been an avid, though teenaged, Jazzercizer for many devoted years. You may have presumed that Jazzercise is for middle-aged women only, and you would have been close. I was definitely the only gal under thirty five in the class, but I was dedicated, so dedicated, in fact, that I considered (briefly) skipping a school music trip to the Bahamas to avoid missing two classes. It was a religion.

When I moved to Provo, there was no Jazzercise. I searched the website and traveled a twenty-mile radius to find only defunct classes. I tried to slake my thirst by joining the gym and trying out all the classes, but never even came close to the warm welcome of my old friend. Eventually, I learned to live without Jazzercise, but life was never quite as rich.

Until last week. I checked the website again...just in case. There was a class listed, not too far away, but could it be trusted? I had been disappointed so bitterly; could I risk my heart again?

As you can see, I look fabulous in a leotard, so I decided to give it one last try. I arrived early enough to watch the clientèle arrive one by middle-aged one. They looked about right. They were friendly. A little nuts. Ready to shake they booties.

I knew I had truly arrived when the instructor announced that Jazzercise would be featured in the Freedom Festival Parade this year. See you there.