I guess I'm just ... different

I was talking to my sister Jennifer on the phone last night. She's going on a business trip to Philly on Sunday, and there were a few things I needed to tell her in preparation for her trip. Like, eat a cheese steak, and bring me back hotel toiletries.

As we were talking, the subject of the gym came up. I had called her on my way home from my workout, having spent a glorious hour dancing with John (and a disastrous ten minutes in a strength class taught by a cross between Brigitte Nielsen and the Energizer bunny,) so I was high on endorphins and friendship.

Tangent number one: It was so good to have John back! He behaved and kept both feet on the floor most of the time. I've missed him horribly while he was recuperating from respiratory issues. Hard to believe, but one uses one's lungs during cardio classes.

So we danced, we sang, we got yelled at for talking ... it was just like high school! After class the high school feeling continued, with the crew hanging out and jabbing. Lena was worried I was upset because she was in "my spot" in class; Kim was confused because I said I didn't know Carter, but that was just because I call her by her first name, Jen; and Shakespeare assured me that the strength class was not an hour of torture as it seemed in the first ten minutes.

Tangent number two: Shakespeare and I are thrift shopping tonight to finish off our Halloween costumes. She's going as a slutty Christmas tree. Seriously. Should be a fun time! Oh, and by the way, I am not angry at John for suggesting I held Great America in a place of higher importance than the upcoming election. I'm just a little touchy sometimes. Just ask Kelly; she'll tell you, sometimes I'm just bananas.

So anyway, I spend the evening at the gym with all these amazing people, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world (or the happiest girl in the whole U.S. of A., with apologies to Donna Fargo) when I call my sister. And the conversation seques to the gym and my workout, which I describe to her as a blast. And she doesn't get it.

My other sister in the background says, "yeah, people who like working out are either lying or crazy." They didn't mean it nasty, I promise you ... they just don't get it. Maybe it's because we do such different things when we work out. While I treat myself to variety, they've settled into a routine. Maybe it's the people. While they have each other, I have lead characters like Shakespeare and John, plus a hysterical cast of supporting players in the movie that is my life. Well, the gym scenes, anyway. I come home from the gym not only feeling like I've had a great workout, but like I've just been out with friends.

Probably because I have.

So here we have yet another example of how I am different. How the black sheep still fits with the family, but is obviously not the same. I don't think it's a baaaaad thing, but I do think it's interesting. The best part, though, is that lately the beige sheep have been really good to the black one. Is it possible that after all this time, they've come to realize that it's okay that I'm not just like them, and maybe they can be frustrated by me and appreciate me at the same time?

I hope so. Because they're an important part of my herd.