As I busied myself washing clothes and unpacking from my weeklong Christmas vacation with my family, I came across the gift my nieces and nephew had given me: a mesh sponge, body wash and hand lotion. I put the mesh sponge in my gym bag, the lotion in the bathroom and paused when I thought how I could best use the body wash.
I’m one of those adults who still suffers from acne on her face and back, which is why I have to use medicated soap to keep it in check. Then, I figured the best way to use it would be as hand soap. So, I poured most of the body wash into my soap dispenser in the kitchen, which was nearly empty of its yellow liquid soap. Afterwards, I dashed off to do a hundred other things.
By the time I returned to the kitchen to fix myself something to eat, I reached out to use the soap and wash my hands and saw a ghost. Not a “real” ghost, but the mixing of the two liquid soaps formed a ghostly image that sent me running for my camera. I couldn’t have created that intentionally, but was amazed at its appearance.
Although I try not to be superstitious, I come from a long line of superstitious people. I dismissed the ghost’s appearance as being nothing more than the mixing of two liquids–despite the fact that the following day, I received a parking ticket! Surely not the work of the soapy ghost, just the coincidence of one event following the other.
As a matter of fact, the last day of 2011 was wonderfully well-spent, starting with a trip to the library to get The History of Mathematics and another book about how to draw superheroes. My latest creative scheme involves drawing two of my characters. They happen to be the personification of mathematical concepts; so now I have dreams of evolving into a graphic novelist. Why not?
Then I dashed off to a 90-minute zumba class. I normally stay away from zumba classes, but since this one was being taught by my favorite samba teacher, I trusted that she’d put her special spin on the whole experience. Totally kicked my butt, but made that margarita and chilaquiles afterwards go down smoother.
Once I finally returned home, I showered, surrounded myself with books on my bed and took a much deserved nap. Of course I managed to read after waking up more refreshed. I finally got up to make the spicy bean dip that I was taking as my covered dish to the NYE’s milonga. Then I got dressed in my latest Goodwill purchase: a dreamy, dark brown silk skirt with another previous Goodwill purchase, an elegant white top.
My first stop was at a laid-back house party of one of my capoeira sisters. I brought over the last of my Christmas chocolate to share. I figured after spending seven days eating two desserts a day, I’d do myself the favor of jettisoning the excess candy from my apartment.
Although the conversation was very entertaining, I headed to my second and final NYE party stop. I saw the grill full of meat and nearly empty picnic tables once I arrived. When I went inside, I did not see anyone eating. I joined one of my friends at a table and asked her if everyone had already eaten. She said that no one had eaten yet. Figures! I’d arrived two and a half hours late and was the first person to fix my plate and eat. Long live Black people!
Afterwards, I replenished my lipstick in the bathroom and readied myself for a night of dancing. According to the tango “rules,” only men ask women to dance. I broke that rule for most of the night. My male friends were near and readily available; so I just took the initiative of asking them. And nothing temporarily boosts my confidence like looking sexy. That $5.99 skirt certainly made me look like a million bucks. Or was it the other way around?
At the stroke of midnight, we toasted, kissed cheeks and started dancing a medley of dance genres besides tango. I amazed my friends with my samba skills. Then one friend led me to do a dance I’d never done before. I asked him afterwards which dance he’d just led and he told me the hustle…very different than the hustle I remember my sisters doing in the 70s.
Since I was determined to start off the New Year continuing my habit of going to bikram yoga at ten am, I started packing up my things to leave. It’s a good thing I’d already planned to leave since my allergies had curiously started to flare up outta nowhere (another soap ghost effect?).
The yoga studio was especially packed since the 60-day challenge started today. Yogis are encouraged to do yoga for 60 days in a row. I’m participating in my own challenge, which is to increase the number of times I attend yoga from eight times a month to at least ten. My left hip will especially thank me. I’ll just see where life will take me with a newly healed hip in 2012.