For once, I attended a different exercise class on Sunday mid morning. The cherry on top was that I’d invited a friend who drove us far enough out of town that it could be considered a daytrip.
We set up our yoga mats under a pavilion in the front row, thanks to my aversion to having other people’s feet in my face. Although we were too close to the portable speaker, I easily remedied that by wearing my ever-handy earplugs.
I’d never taken a barre class before, but I was amazed at how the smallest movements created a huge effect. My friend kept saying that she would be very sore the next day. I teased her about approaching the drop-in class as if it were a military exercise. I, on the other hand, took everything in stride. Plus, I use CBD, so I knew that would help alleviate any soreness, especially due to inflammation.
One thing that I found challenging was seeing the food truck in front of us nearly the entire time. As the class progressed, the smell of burgers and fries permeated. I’d eaten breakfast, but that seemed long gone in the middle of that late-morning class.
Since our payment for the barre class included a drink ticket, we put away our yoga mats after class, then claimed our spicy apple ciders. As hungry as I was, I know that wasn’t the only reason that cider was delicious.
With drinks in hand, we waited in line for food. My friend wasn’t hungry, but she kept me company. While standing in line, I did my usual: talk a mile a minute. Even so, I made an effort to mind my own business instead of focusing on the middle aged couple behind us who kept loudly kissing. I figured they weren’t a long-time couple.
After I’d received my order and we’d sat down, I shared my observation about the amorous couple. My friend had overheard them asking one another those basic “first date questions” and had wanted to tell them to get a room. I laughed because I had been tempted to tell him that he’d have to kiss everyone. Or least tell her to hook a sister up. Of course, I didn’t find the guy attractive, so no need to joke about that with her.
After I finished eating, I went to the bathroom to wash my hands when I noticed the “Date Gone Wrong” sign. I loved everything about it. A part of me felt sad that women needed such a plan B, but I was very happy that there were strategies to help a sister out. A woman’s safety shouldn’t be compromised just because she’s looking for romance. Ideally, she’d be as happy and secure as the woman behind me in the food line.
Since the Farmers’ Market was in progress, my friend and I walked around to see what was available. I figured I wouldn’t buy anything, but I’m always in the mood for a post-meal stroll. That’s precisely why I came across something that I ended up buying.
Months ago, I’d bought reusable woolen dryer balls. The box contained a teaser bottle of essential oil to spray on the balls. When I returned to the place to buy a larger bottle, there was none to be found. I’d been searching for a suitable replacement ever since. The challenge was greater than I would have originally figured.
So, when I came across some bottles advertising “linen spray,” I thought that was close enough. I asked the vendor if the spray was for dryer balls and she confessed that she hadn’t thought to use it in that way. I liked the sound of “Berry Apple Bourbon” before I confirmed by smelling it. She asked me to try the “Jamaica Please” scent, which was her favorite. I couldn’t decided between the two, so I bought both.
After all, whether the linen spray worked as dryer ball scents or not, I’d be helping out a Black woman-owned business. Definitely worth the effort in more ways than one.