Woke up only slightly reluctantly this morning, all the alarms blaring and the kitty purring. Thought about a blog entry I might write about the night before.

Army Guy calls just a little after 7:00, and I answer the phone saying, "Just ten minutes!"

"Wake up Frances!" he shouts into the phone. Our own little ritual.

I get up.

I get to get up today.

I get to drive to work -- I get to have a job to drive to!

I get to have supportive conversations with my reports.

I get to see the beautiful puffy clouds.

I get to do some real work.

I get to enjoy springtime in Boston.

I get to be alive.

My camera phone doesn't do a good job of capturing intense reds, so imagine this about four shades darker.

And the lilacs, ah, the lilacs. Everything smells of flowers.

Dear Locally Owned Fitness Center Near Me:

Thank you for being such an awesome place to work out. Thank you for always having plenty of cardio machines available without my having to sign up. Thank you, kind, fatherly owner of the gym, who always takes the time to explain things slowly and in the same tone of voice as my old Outdoor Living teacher in high school. Thank you for being so close to my house that I can walk or run there and thus begin my workout before I even arrive. Thank you for having ample parking and being on the way to my job so that I include a visit with you in my morning commute. Thank you for having hangers for me to hang my corporate whore clothes on in the locker room.

Thank you for your comfortable locker room with the wooden doors. Thank you for the carpets in the changing area and the linoleum tile in the shower area. Thank you for having a detachable shower head in one of the stalls, and for having stalls with curtains that are actually wide enough to close. Thank you, ancient scale for reminding me that it's okay not to know my weight down to two significant digits. Thanks an extra bunch for showing that I lost four pounds this morning, and thanks for reminding that it's okay to gain those four pounds back. Thank you, sauna, for being so hot and dry and dark like the Womb of Mother Earth. Thank you for being on a timer so I know you're not singlehandedly causing the melting of the ice caps, although I wish I remembered to turn you on more BEFORE my workout.

Thank you, hardworking, down-to-earth women of my town who conduct your workouts without applying foundation, mascara, blush, and eyeliner. Thank you for wearing normal, baggy workout clothes on your normal, imperfect and yet beautiful bodies and not flaunting your perfectly toned abs, cellulite-free bottoms, and gravity-defying breasts in the latest fashions from the "activewear" racks at Neiman Marcus. Thank you for smiling at me when I smile at you -- and I forgive you when you don't, because this is New England, after all. Thank you for talking to me in the locker room, even when I am naked. I am sorry that I sometimes talk to you when I am naked or when we have not been formally introduced. I know this may make you uncomfortable, but it's just because I am friendly, not a native New Englander, and jazzed up on endorphins. I'm also sorry if I take up space on the bench with my massive gym bag. I try to be mindful of your needs, but I just tend to take up a lot of space. Thank you for being so respectful of personal property that I never need to use a lock on my locker.

Thank you, little self-locking cubbyholes where I can leave my iPod while I'm changing, since my trust for strangers only goes so far.

Thank you, older gentlemen who use the free weights along with me and scowl when I use them too and smile at you. You are so much better than the alt-rock listening, baseball-cap-wearing, tattoo-sporting fuckheads who so intimidated me when I first started lifting weights back in the 90s. Thank you, nice transplanted divorced guy from Brooklyn who actually talks to me in the weight area and on the mats. Your Brooklyn accent makes me feel all warm and homey and I love that you used to live in Santa Cruz and know my favorite beach in the whole world, the one with the surfer museum. I would totally date you, except that it might make things awkward at the gym.

Oh men of the free weight area, oh women of the gym, I apologize if I have ever offended with you with my tight workout pants and my big-city attitude. I'm a big girl and it's hard to find workout pants that AREN'T tight, it's not really because I am trying to show off my hugamundo gluteii maximii, which are becoming more appealing by the day as I continue to do my clock lunges. You should be pleased to know that I have never worn my "Every time you see a rainbow, God is having gay sex" T-shirt specifically because I did not want to offend you. You are my workout compatriots and I treasure and love your unpretentious creamy goodness.

Thank you, housewives who bring your kids to the gym with you and leave them in that windowless child care room under the stairs. I am annoyed by you and your noisy kids, and also jealous of you because you "don't have to work" (riiiiight, you just don't get paid for your work) and because your husbands (or wives, but you all look so very, very heterosexual) must be bringing in mad bank for you to raise your kids in this affluent little suburb of Boston. Thank you anyway for being there, for exercising your right to choose as women, for raising the next generation of the human race, and for taking care of yourselves.

Thank you, nice, spacious group exercise room I have never used. Thank you, full roster of exercise classes none of which are at a convenient time for me. If I ever get bored of my familiar and lovely cardio/strength/flex fitness routine, I know you will be there for me.

Thank you, well-organized strength training chart filing area. Thank you for always having a clipboard for me to use and for all those lovely pencils with the pencil sharpener right nearby and the new supply of pencils with erasers that haven't been worn down to the metal holder. I love you and the way you let me keep track of how often and well I do my lifting.

Thank you, lovely, colorful, but clearly painted by an amateur mural of people running and biking and climbing mountains and doing other sports, with the Boston skyline in the background. You make the walls so very much more fun to look at when I am standing in the dancer pose trying not to fall over or sprain my ankle.

Thank you, EFT transfer of funds that lets me go to the gym day in and day out without ever writing a check. Sure, you sometimes take me by surprise and overdraw my checking account, but you charge me exactly the amount of money I am willing to pay for a gym. And the gym is so very much worth the extra funds.

I love you, Locally Owned Fitness Center Near Me, and I want the whole world to know it.

Things I should be am grateful for:

1. I have a roof over my head
   
2. My job gives me a lot of freedom -- boss isn't looking over my shoulder all the time
   
3. Knowing more about my job than I did six months ago
   
4. There are more than two people in the world who take my calls and return them too
   
5. I went to a nice party on Saturday
   
6. I get to sleep right in the middle of my queen-sized bed
   
7. I still get leads for independent work
   
8. My bank account is in the black
   
9. My car is running
   
10. I can go to the bathroom whenever I want
    
11. I get vacation time
    
12. I can work from home
    
13. I can put together a decent paragraph
    
14. I have a really good health insurance plan
    
15. My teeth are really, really clean
    

Ready for more.

So there's this scene in Brother Sun, Sister Moon where the Friars are going through the town singing their thanks in that singsong I grew up with, a kind of call and response:

"Fo-or Brother Poverty..."

"We-ee gi-ive tha-anks."

"Fo-or Sister Chastity..."

"We-ee gi-iv tha-anks."

Think Gregorian chant or that mocking scene in Monty Python and the Holy Grail where they read from the Scripture about the Holy Hand Grenade and you'll get the idea.

Anyway, as I was exercising in the pouring rain today, I was actually thinking about what I was grateful for.

So here's my monster list of gratitude. I'll be adding to it over the next few weeks and may change the date accordingly. All verses to be sun in the call-and-response manner shown above.

• Precipitation
  
• Sensuality
  
• Electric heating
  
• Hot showers
  
• Arch supports
  
• November rai-ai-ains
  
• technogoddesss
  
• Friends and family
  
• Online journaling
  
• Broadband internet
  
• Take-out turkey
  
• Pot-luck dinners
  
• Solving CSS puzzles
  
• Frozen Trader Joe's food
  
• Private transportation
  
  

*last edit: Tues 11/22/05 5:54 PM*
*initial post: Tues 11/22/05*

I so want to start bitching about my Eveeel Landlord (we saw him walking with the deveeel the other day, and he didn't even introduce us!) or the pain in my right hip (bursitis is supposed to be an old people's disease. how did I end up with it?)

But instead I'll try to hold onto that chipper feeling I had this morning when I took a new way home through the streets of Somerville/Cambridge (there a warp in the time/space continuum right around this area, I swear) after a lovely and unplanned night at Technogoddess's house. Thematic scrabble can be very tiring!

So. Things I'm grateful for:

1. It's Friday! Yay!
2. I get to meet dalbino83 in person next Tuesday. Yay! Plus I get a free homemade bowl!
3. Panties panties panties! Yay!
4. Johnny Jump-ups and Snow on the Mountain from Technogoddess's garden. Yay!
5. If I don't bill, I don't get paid. Boo! Back to work, me! Yay!
6. I have an appointment to see my very own doctor at the clinic in Somerville and they know me and didn't make me wait 3 weeks to get my yeast infection looked at. Yay!
7. No more itchiness. Yay!
8. Thematic scrabble was PARTICULARLY entertaining last night. Mmmmm. Yum.

The Red Sox Fan and I made a mutual decision to split over brunch at O'Reilly's. I was prepared to keep poking the thing with a stick to make sure it was dead. It was such a relief when she gave me an out.

Even when it's mutual, breaking up is still hard to do. How is it that I can go from fine to lonely in a just a few short moments?

It would be a relief to know that I'm feeling what one should feel at the end of a relationship if it weren't so goddamn *hard* -- and if I hadn't made the committment to not just jump right into another one.

Life is hard, Barbie.

But there are good things, too. Like digital music, for instance, and the blooms on chestnut trees, and my big strong legs that can take me just about anywhere.