Easter weekend rambling

Jesus is risen, Spring is in full swing, and Orlando is already hotter than hell. Despite the heat, I had a lovely, relaxing four day weekend. I got 10 hours of sleep on Thursday night, followed by a two hour Friday afternoon siesta. I love that word; it's fittingly like sleep party. I take my sleep parties seriously: I slip into my most comfortable pair of granny panties and an extra large tshirt, close the blinds as tightly as possible, and unmake the bed. I don't wake up until Eugenio frightens me, at which point I am always confused about who and where I am. I used to have serious insomnia, but now I can sleep like a teenager and I take full advantage whenever I can. On Saturday Neno and I went golfing. I don't golf. I drive the cart, read my book, and complain about the weather. Eugenio plays golfs and hydrates with beer -- his kind of sport. I played golf while drinking cerveza with Neno once. I don't care for beer, and I don't care for golf, but I'll enjoy either put together.

Easter slipped by like any other day, except I was off from work (thank you, Jesus). The jeaster bunny missed our apartment, but that's OK because I'm trying not to eat too many sweets. I have a sweet tooth, and like Jim Gaffigan says, my tooth owes my ass an explanation. Neno and I went to the 5pm mass with the other slackers. Good thing, because I'm sure the morning mass was packed; I hate crowds...especially with children high on sugar. I enjoy a more desolate, solemn celebration of Christ rising. When I was younger, the whole rising from the dead thing creeped me out, which is why,though confusing, I think the Easter bunny, pastels, and candy got lumped into the occasion. Truthfully, forever agnostic, I still find the death and resurrection gruesome and eerie -- if I had to decorate Easter I wouldn't choose pastels -- but I'm intrigued by the faithful and like the Lenten lessons of sacrifice, freedom, and forgiveness (forgive me for my honesty). I asked Eugenio if he wanted me to prepare him a basket for Easter, but he declined as he's hardcore and seriously embraces Easter. He and I are an interesting juxtaposition of comparable opposites. He can teach our hypothetical unborn children about Jesus, and I'll take the bunny and Santa -- bases covered.

Somewhat unrelated, but equally stream of consciousness, I just met a man in his 30s who was only recently released from prison. "I've been in prison since I was 16. This is all overwhelming." Wow, I bet. Talk about rebirth. He signed up for basic computer classes as a start. I pray he adjusts well.

aging

I'm getting old and I can feel it. My elbows are creaky, my muscles achy, and my fingers bony. I take "my pills" every morning. My breath is coffee laced. (When I was four or five I not so subtly told my mom I didn't want to kiss or hug her "because your breath stinks.") I say "pardon?" more often because I can't hear, though I'm extremely sensitive to loud music. I don't understand the appeal to the crap on television these days -- a la Jersey Shore. And I no longer believe elderly are being drama kings and queens when I hear them groan while bending over or standing up, as I now do the same -- unintentionally. If I had a garage, it would start to smell funny.

Lady, please. Your 26. I know, I know, but in all seriousness I can actually feel that my body has aged. I'm not whining, merely observing and slightly lamenting. I'd much rather be almost 30 than an insecure teenager, although back then I could do the splits every way without flinching in pain, and I could touch my nose to my knees while resting hands behind my ankles. In my youth I found yoga an easy excuse for exercise: what's so hard about bending your body? And I didn't appreciate the concept of "warming up" before running because I didn't need to. Now it takes me a solid 20 minutes of jogging before I feel like I can run harder without breaking a leg.

Today I stretched for the first time in weeks, which made me realize how inflexible I'm becoming and reminded me to stretch more often. I've decided, in self improvement efforts, I'm going to take up yoga. I always wanted to be a calm soul peacefully meditating while crossing my legs every which way, but the truth is that I found yoga all too boring because I was far too skittish. In past attempts, I spent the majority of class looking around the room at everyone else when I should have focused on breathing with my eyes closed. My breathing is involuntary; I don't need to focus. That said, now that I'm older, hopefully I can sit still, because I'm craving to start something new and beneficial...in my old age. ; D