It’s Nice to Be Wanted BUT ....

Another invite from Q ─ my millennial friend in the Beach area.

This time it’s for Easter Brunch on Sunday, April 21.

Knowing my food restrictions would be too challenging for me in the face of all the great dishes Q will surely make, I thanked him for the invite and declined.

Wouldn’t you know he’s made my life complicated by not taking no for an answer. “I'm happy to make something you can eat. Did you say you can eat plain vegetables and potatoes? That's really easy to make” says he.

It’s not just the food restrictions but how complicated it is to go anywhere now. First there’s booking myself into a hotel, and the having to take the Instant Pot with me and pre-made meals to heat in the pot. THEN, much as I enjoy keeping up with the goings and doings of my Gen X and Millennial friends on Facebook, we have too little in common ─ other than we use to work together, to make socializing in person interesting for me.

Q’s graciousness has me now struggling for a way to say no.

Thinking to find a good reason to work through the complications of a road trip just to socialize, I began looking around for what I could combine to make the trip worth the effort. Plenty of 5Ks in that area, but none during the time period I’d be in the area ─ evening of Friday the 19th through early morning Monday the 22nd.

Twin 1 would be thrilled if I joined her on Skid Row as she and her group fed the homeless Saturday, but I’m not sure I could handle the surrounding filth and squalor. I’m the person who won’t go to the movies because it’s dark, I don’t know what’s crawling around on the floor, and I feel icky sitting in seats that thousands of others have sat in.

Grandbaby, whom I’ve thankfully not heard from since I helped her get her car out of impound, pay tickets and get insurance, suddenly sent me a message last night saying she loves and misses me and would like me to visit “us” at “their” new apartment when next I’m in the area.

I suspect the timing of hearing from her, all of a sudden, out of the blue, not wanting anything is the Universe urging me to make the trip, attend Q’s event.

If I do, I’m not sure I’ll pop in on Grandbaby. The “us” she speaks of is her boyfriend (white, 5 years older, Mormon background). I met him Thanksgiving, got a good vibe from him and all, so I’m okay if she’s okay BUT their relationship has reached the point where both are posting about being "in love”. I’m old, hardened, awake, so the mushy gushiness makes me want to throw up in my mouth a little.

So, all in all, I don’t know but, until I make a decision, I’m considering what meals I can take that won’t be too much trouble for me through that weekend, what I can have Q cook for me that won’t be too much trouble for him, whether there is anything the GenX, Millennials and I can find to converse about since they all still work, are raising children and I’m retired, free of responsibilities, whether I should brave the drive on the Los Angeles freeways to join Twin 1 in feeding the homeless, drop by Grandbaby’s place and try not to toss my cookies at the mushy gushiness.

So much to think about, including getting back on Monday the 22^nd, in time for my noon workout with the trainer.

Decisions, decisions.

I am so happy, satisfied, content, grateful for the life and schedule I now have, that I get thrown for a loop every time I get an invite to deviate from that life/schedule.

It’s nice to be wanted, but I wish Q had taken no for an answer.

Today was my fourth session with the personal trainer, and I have to say the Pain Cave is money well spent.

After the initial session caused everything to hurt, the trainer assessed where my weaknesses lie and is working me on resistance equipment and that which will build overall stamina and strength in my weak areas ─ knees, upper body.

My most fun activity is when I balance on a huge tire, jump up and down.

My least fun activity is planking. I can’t do one single plank to save my life. I’ve always known and said I have no upper body strength, so no surprise there, but it’s hilarious when he tells me to lay face down, assume the position, then tells me to lift up. I lay there like a beached whale, flat on my belly, grunting away but unable to get off the ground.

The trainer and I have a long way to go with upper body, but his treadmill workouts have me back to 5K competition level already. He calls it “muscle memory” ─ that I’ve recovered so quickly after losing my stamina from all that time as a couch potato.