Tuesday, February 26, 2008

We adjourned last week with few specifics and only the assurance that the Social Plan of ’08 has begun, and I chalk that up to my general inability to type more than three paragraphs in any given night. You can imagine the banner evening we had last Wednesday, then, when an unbidden fifth paragraph appeared on the screen and lo! The dusty pages of history in the making increased by one, and exhausted by such progress I collapsed to the floor.

And scene. Here’s the first concrete tidbit for you: acting class is absolutely not on the docket. Tennis is, so I paid my dues for the local singles challenge ladder. Mixed doubles isn’t until summer, though, which means the spring ladder will offer a chance to meet some middle-aged dudes. On the continuum of things I need, this is somewhere to the left of a car with three wheels, but definitely to the right of edible crayons and reusable toilet paper.

Now, cooking class will be a different matter entirely. Initial feedback suggests this activity is a smart choice, and not just for the demographic’s sake. Let’s say I double down on the tennis debacle and walk into a cooking class where the median age is 65, albeit female. Obviously I could try a different class, but the fact remains: the content itself interests me. I’m following my own Polaris, to recycle a term we used recently. I like playing tennis. I need to learn to cook well. Making instant oatmeal just won’t cut it, if “make” is a term we can even employ here.