I went to a Body Jam class at the Y this morning. I didn’t know what to expect since I haven’t taken an aerobics class since the early 90’s. My cardio workouts are of the solitary kind these days but since I had such a good experience in a group environment on Monday, I was looking forward to trying out the class. I was hoping it wasn’t going to be full of queer jazzercise moves like the grapevine and I wanted it to be challenging because I was taking the class instead of spending 45 minutes on the Stairmaster.

The instructor was great. She showed up in pink and gray camouflage pants with matching shoes and a sparkly pink military style hat. I liked her immediately. The room was packed so I figured she must be pretty popular.

The class consisted of hip-hop style combinations that we kept building on by adding more moves. I loved it. It was nothing like aerobics in the 90’s and the choreography was way cool. I could see myself doing some of the moves on a real dance floor with my girlfriends if I had enough wine in me.

And it was not easy. I always wear my heart rate monitor to track my calories burned because of Weight Watchers and I spent a lot of time in what I’m going to start referring to as the coronary zone. This class kicked my ass. I thought I was in pretty good shape cardiovascularly, especially when I work out on my NordicTrack but apparently I am not nearly as fit as I thought I was.

At one point my heart rate monitor showed 00 so I assumed I had died but since I was still booty poppin’ and shaking my groove thing all over the place I finally realized that the chest strap on my heart rate monitor had slipped down and wasn’t picking up my heartbeat.

The class finally ended 56 minutes after it started. I was totally wiped out and when I looked at my heart rate monitor to see how many calories I had burned it said 666. It was a devil of a workout.

My original plan was to check out Body Jam and then stay for Y-pump, which is the class I went to on Monday. I realized when Body Jam ended that taking another class was unnecessary and stupid.

Body Jam + Y-Pump= dead housewife.

But I’m definitely going back to this class on Wednesdays. I might take it on Saturday or Sunday at another Y location because I liked it so much. In time I’ll start my slow hostile takeover of one of the good front row spots. Then it really will feel like the 90’s again.

The other night Dave and I decided to go out for a family dinner. I wanted sushi but Dave and the offspring wanted chicken or steak so we decided to try a new restaurant that just opened by Jordan Creek Mall called Samurai Sushi and Hibachi since we figured they’d have something for everyone.

I was in the throes of some pretty lethal PMS (and had no business even going to a restaurant that served soy sauce) and I told Dave I hoped this wasn’t one of those places where you had to sit around a big table with people you don’t know because I wasn’t in the mood. Dave likes discussing my PMS about as much as he likes putting the Christmas lights on the roof so he told me if it was, I was just going to have to deal with it.

When we got to the restaurant the waitress led us to a table for 15 and started filling it up with people I’ve never seen in my life. Dave tried to leave a space between himself and a man I’ll call Joe Plumber but the waiter asked him to move over so they would be sitting right next to each other which is probably why Dave ordered sake immediately.

I swapped out my diet coke for a glass of wine when the waitress brought more people to the table. A woman I’ll call lady Fat Albert didn’t look very friendly and the girl sitting next to her had a stocking cap pulled down almost to her nose just like Fat Albert’s friend always did. And yes I’m going straight to hell for referring to someone as a female version of an obese cartoon character. Tell me something I don’t know. I’m sure she was equally impressed with the slightly bloated and bitchy pre-menstrual housewife sitting across from her and probably had PLENTY to say about me to her friends later.

The chef finally got the show started by lighting a bunch of cooking oil on fire right in front of us. I’m not sure I left the restaurant with all the eyebrows I came in with and I’m really glad Matthew no longer has a fire phobia because the chef was a crazy pyromaniac.

The first thing he started making after the smoke cleared was fried rice. Lauren is allergic to eggs so Dave tried to make the chef understand that he needed to leave her rice plain. A complete communication breakdown ensued that resulted in the chef taking all the eggs away while everyone at the table glared at us. Dave tried unsuccessfully to make the chef understand that he could use the eggs for everyone else’s rice but not Lauren’s. Dave then flagged down someone else and started explaining how the chef did not understand us so Dave tried to make the new person comprehend our situation and then translate. Our fellow diners did not look very happy with us and unless the employees at Samurai Sushi and Hibachi are really good at charades they probably didn’t know what the hell we were trying to tell them. Finally it looked like they understood but that didn’t stop me from checking my purse to make sure I had my epi-pen and some Benadryl handy.

The chef started cooking everything and then tried to get fancy by throwing food into everyone’s mouth. His aim was really shitty and food was bouncing off the offspring’s faces like crazy. I don’t think one single thing made it into their mouths. The chef over at Ohana Steak House is way better at that kind of thing.

Eventually the universal equalizer (liquor) kicked in and everyone started talking to each other. Lady Fat Albert was actually a single mother who worked for FEMA and was living here temporarily with her two children. They had relocated from Chicago and she told us she was very impressed with our school system and neighborhoods.

Joe Plumber was actually a single dad named James who worked as a parole officer and had adopted all 6 of his (special needs) kids on his own. One of them was with him at the table and even though he didn’t take his ear buds out the whole time we were eating he seemed like a nice kid.

Everyone complimented us on how well behaved our children were (I KNOW!) I don’t think we’re going to be exchanging Christmas cards next year or anything but it just goes to show that you should never judge people before you’ve had a chance to get to know them no matter how much fun it is.

Maybe the Japanese are onto something with their table arrangements and sake. They probably made fun of all of us once we left the restaurant. Actually they probably made fun of us while we were there since we couldn’t understand a word they were saying. But I think everyone felt a little better at the end of the meal then they did when it started.

The offspring headed back to school and Dave went back to work today. Thank God! It’s nice and quiet here at home which is the way mama likes it. Now I just need to get back into my normal routine, the one that doesn’t include daily trips to the wine aisle at Dahl’s and 4 Motrin.

I started going to the YMCA today. The offspring really like the indoor pool and water slide there so we signed up for a family membership.

I’m not used to exercising with a bunch of people around me. I usually work out at home because we have a treadmill and a NordicTrack in the basement. I can wear workout clothes that don’t match and if I get too hot I can whip my shirt off and work out in my sports bra if I feel like it. I can put my hair up in a sloppy ponytail and sing out loud when a good song comes on my ipod. Something tells me that kind of behavior may not be appreciated at the Y.

But one of the reasons I did want to join the Y is because they have a class called Y-pump and since I do no strength training whatsoever (because it’s totally boring), one of my resolutions was to start achieving a better balance between cardio and weights. I might even go crazy and start working on my abs instead of telling Dave I want a tummy tuck for Mother’s Day.

Anyway, I really liked the class. The instructor seemed to have a good sense of humor and she played a lot of loud music. I think I need to use heavier weights next time though because the class wasn’t that hard.

Going to the Y is going to take some getting used to. Even though I am an extremely social person, I really like working out at home alone. But this Y-pump class is one of my resolutions so I need to make it part of my routine. I think I can do that.

I’m having a psychic party at the end of the month. I’m inviting 15 girlfriends over for wine and a peek at their future. Some of the girls I invite will be skeptical. Some will be too afraid of what they might find out. But I think the girls who came to my last psychic party will be looking forward to this one as much as I am. Because once you’ve learned a few things about yourself, you realize there’s a lot more you want to hear.

I first met Dixie when Stefani’s mom Patty hosted a psychic party. I didn’t really understand how it all worked but I was curious and they were serving alcohol. We sat in a big circle and you could ask Dixie one question that she would answer in detail. You could also give her the name of one person and she would tell you all about them.

Dave and I were coming up on our first wedding anniversary and were starting to think about having kids. I have always had a hard time not knowing what is in store for me and having kids was one of the biggest unknowns I had ever faced. We wanted them but would we be able to have them? Would we be able to get pregnant easily? How many would we have? When?

I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask Dixie such an important question, especially in front of everyone. I was a little scared about what I’d find out but I asked her anyway.

The first thing Dixie wanted to know was whether or not twins ran in my family. Everyone, including me, got a little freaked out since they all knew I had a twin sister. Dixie told me she saw a vision of me in late summer and I was bigger than I should have been for the number of months pregnant I was. I was floored. I knew that there was a possibility I could have twins but I thought it usually skipped a generation.

I got pregnant a month later and gave birth to just one baby in the middle of July. Turns out if you gain slightly more than the doctor recommended amount of weight (like double) and you give birth 14 days PAST your due date, and the baby weighs 9 lbs. 7 oz., every single person you know will say, “hey are you sure you’re not having twins?” for the entire last month of your pregnancy.

Dixie also read my palm and told me the following: I would have a long life and would live to be 75-90 years old. When I am 45-50 years old I will completely change the way I look at things. I have a strong talent line but she didn’t say what the talent was. I have two deep emotional attachment lines. She said I was bossy, had a little bit of a temper, and wanted to control life by compartmentalizing everything in neat little boxes. She said I was unable to relax and was always looking for the next task to complete. She also said I was compassionate, highly suspicious of others, a seeker of knowledge, and philosophical.

I saw Dixie two more times after that and each time I learned a few more interesting things. Supposedly I will be running my dad’s motorcycle shop someday and Dave and I are going to buy a big old house. Neither of those things seem likely to me now but I guess I’ll have to wait and see what happens.

Meanwhile, I need to be thinking about what to ask Dixie. I never ask anything I don’t want to know the answer to and I don’t want to talk to any dead people because a psychic party is supposed to be fun. I’ll let you know what I find out.

Scream really loud when Dave is about to hit another car because it drives him nuts.

Be super pissed at Dave for not answering his Blackberry, not knowing where it is, or not taking it off vibe so he can hear it ringing when I’m calling him.

Fight with Trish like we are 13 years old.

Keep telling Trish her Texas accent (which comes and goes) annoys the crap out of me.

Mess with Trish’s match.com account, even though I know her password and could change her settings to attract only beer- bellied mama’s boys who live on farms.

Yell out a cuss word in front of the offspring and then try to turn it into a normal word (example: yelling shit really loud but then turning it into shiitake mushrooms).

Drink so much red wine it looks like I’m wearing purple lipstick.

Make disparaging remarks about the meeting leaders at Weight Watchers.

Keep referring to girls I don’t like as stupid crack whores.

Acknowledge stupid e-mail chain letters. Nothing BAD is going to happen to me if I don’t forward it to 10 of my friends. P.S., they don’t want it either.

Keep talking about the Dooney and Bourke medium chiara bag in black leather that I still don’t own.

Say out loud all the inappropriate things I may be thinking in my head.