Walk 10,000 Steps Without Moving Your Feet

I like to think I’m a rule follower. I’m not, but I like to think that.

I generally do what I’m supposed to do … but usually at the very last minute or by cutting corners. I think it was Duke Ellington who said something like, “If it weren’t for deadlines, I’d get nothing done.” Deadlines guide my life, as well.

In college, all-nighters were my go-to when I had a project due the next day. I often stayed up all night and raced the clock. I usually beat it with minutes to spare, sometimes not even minutes. I remember going to class in my pajamas with a long coat thrown over them, project in hand. The class was ending when I got there, but I was able to put my report on my professor’s desk as everyone was filing out of the classroom.

Another time, I took two classes simultaneously. This was before computers (early 1980s) logged all classes being taken and by whom. At the time, we filled out paper requests for classes. I requested one that met on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Then, after the semester started, I manually added a class that met on Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. I alternated which class I’d attend on Fridays. I was very fortunate that neither class ever had tests on Fridays.

At my last job, my bosses didn’t especially care when I did my day’s work, as long as it was finished by the time they got to the office the next day at 9 a.m. I worked from home so, needless to say, I started work around midnight and hit “send” on my last assignment around 8:55 a.m. Then I’d go to bed for the day. If I had a daytime telephone meeting, I’d set an alarm and take the meeting from under my covers. There was no reason for me to work in the middle of the night, except for the fact that I could.

The other day I learned of an effort-saving hack that, as the English say, gobsmacked me. I don’t usually use English sayings, to avoid sounding affected, but gobsmacked is the perfect word to describe my reaction.

I belong to an online crocheting group. I’m not a good crocheter by any means, but that doesn’t stop me. Just ask my siblings, who have been the recipients of many really big, oddly shaped afghans.

Anyway, someone in the group commented that she had been crocheting for hours while sitting on her couch. She glanced at her Fitbit and found that it had registered 2,000 steps. After her post, the comments came rolling in. One woman had purportedly walked 5,000 steps while crocheting. Another never moved off her sofa for 12 hours and had logged 10,000 steps. Talk about shortcuts. You can now sit still for hours, just moving your wrists, and walk miles. If you’re tracking your steps to improve your health, however, you will probably choose not to boost your step count with a crochet hook. However, if you have a company or a busybody that logs your steps, you just might think about taking up crocheting. Or even knitting. That probably works, too.

I sometimes wonder if I’m going to make it to Heaven with all of my conniving. Then I decide that I definitely will since I haven’t done anything especially evil. After all, Jesus said there are many mansions in Heaven. I suspect that mine is going to be in a bad neighborhood on the wrong side of the railroad tracks. But, at least it’ll be a mansion.

Hopefully, it won’t be condemned.

Adventures in Columbus

A few days ago, I flew from Columbus, Ohio to New York City. In Columbus, as I deposited my belongings into gray bins, I was reminded by a TSA agent to empty my pockets. I patted down my pockets and didn’t feel anything in them.

However, when I went through the X-ray machine, I was pulled aside and told I had to receive a hip and groin pat down. Right there, in front of hundreds of people, I had my waistband searched, and my upper, inner thighs patted down. Then I was scanned by an instrument that was inserted into a machine to determine if I was carrying explosives.

“You tested me for explosives?!” I asked the TSA woman.

“We have to treat everyone the same way, ma’am,” she said, rather rudely, in my opinion.

Guess what caused the panic? A hair tie with a tiny piece of metal in it.

Once I found the hair tie in my back pocket and showed it to the TSA woman, I figured she would send me back through the X-ray machine. But no. She decided to do a body search and scan me for bomb-making materials in front of everyone.

I’ve set off alarms before in New York, Dallas, and other large airports. I never knew why, but each time, an agent waved a wand over me and said I could go. That’s why I was shocked by the treatment I received at the small Columbus airport.

A woman behind me said, “The agents here are stricter than the ones at LaGuardia.” I agreed. I don’t know why, though.

Maybe they’re bored.

2022: New Year, New World?

Human beings as a group are eternally optimistic. Every January 1, we express joy and hope for the new year. We put the year that just passed behind us and look ahead, expecting health, happiness, and wealth.

Time doesn’t work that way, though. Most things have a beginning and an end … except for time. It keeps on going for us until we stop going. Then it continues on for those who are still here. That’s a bitter pill to swallow.

When someone we love dies, we wonder how the world can continue on, but it does. We can’t even begin to fathom a world that doesn’t include us. But, we will leave for good eventually and everything will be fine, or not fine, but it won’t be our concern then. Or, at least not from an earthly perspective. I don’t know what goes on in the afterlife. I know there’s a connection between this life and the next but I’m going to wait to find out what it is. I have enough to concern me about surviving this life.

Last January 1, I’m sure I had great hopes for 2021. The previous few years were awful, so how bad could 2021 be? Don’t ask that question … ever. The fates will provide you with an answer if you tempt them. In 2019, I lost my husband unexpectedly. In 2020, the world closed down when COVID-19 started killing hundreds of thousands of people. Businesses were closed, jobs were lost, people couldn’t pay their mortgages or rents or feed their families. It was a hell of a year.

We all thought 2021 would bring a respite, both personal and public.

We were deluded. In 2021, the year started off with a citizen-led insurrection at the U.S. Capitol, which shook our collective core. How could this happen in the United States of America? We soon realized that our nation was deeply divided and we needed to find a way to come together and be the United States that most of us thought we were.

The year also kept many of us in a constant state of anxiety: Are the new vaccines safe? Which would be worse, catching COVID or the side effects from the vaccines? What is the Delta variant and what can it do to us? What is the Omicrom variant and what will this mutation of the virus do to us? When will the virus stop mutating? Why won’t people get vaccinated? many of us asked. Others stayed steadfast in their belief that they either had immunity from when they had COVID or that the vaccines were more dangerous than the virus.

Personally, 2021 was a disappointment. I lost both the top of my big toe, and my job, in March. On March 29, I dropped a heavy deck door on my toe and sliced off the top of my left big toe. On March 31, my company dropped a big door on my psyche and my wallet when they downsized me. Additionally, my siblings and I did monthlong shifts all year long in Ohio, taking care of my elderly mother, until we could come up with a permanent solution. (We’re still working on it in 2022.) In September, I lost my mother-in-law, who was the anchor of the family. I did get a good job in October, which was a blessing. So, 2021 wasn’t a total disaster for me, but I wouldn’t want to re-live it.

It’s 5:45 pm on January 1, 2022, and I’m still in my pajamas. I guess I’ll get dressed and greet the new year. I hope it’s worth the effort. I guess I’ll know this time next year.