Suspiciously Healthy

I don’t know what it is — every time I form a healthy new habit, I turn right around and run afoul of the authorities, or at least embarrass myself in front of them. My readers might recall the time I slimmed down to where I had difficulty passing through a Homeland Security checkpoint.

It almost happened again last week, this time because of my commitment to exercise…

Though bicycling and walking offer cardio benefits, I knew it would take weight training to finally put some muscle on my scrawny little toothpick arms. So I joined a local gym, consulted with a personal trainer, and took some workout classes. Thus began the logistics dance — trying to bring the essentials to the locker room, but not so much stuff I spend more time organizing it than exercising.

Eric and family before the ceremony

Eric and family before the ceremony

On an unrelated note: Eric, our older son, commissioned into the US Army almost four years ago as a Second Lieutenant. He made First Lieutenant in 2011 while stationed in Iraq, so we kinda missed that ceremony. But then his promotion to Captain was set for last Friday at Fort Hood, conveniently located about two hours from us.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” I said.

The evening before the ceremony I went to the gym for a class. Rather than lug my purse, I tossed my wallet into my gym bag. After class I got busy and didn’t get ready for our trip until Friday morning. With the usual flurry of just-in-case jacket, forgotten loose items and checking the doors, we hit the road.

Traffic was light, the weather beautiful. What could possibly go wrong? We arrived at Heather and Eric’s house in plenty of time to ride to post with Heather and the Grandson Extraordinaire. A last-minute feeding and diaper change, and we were ready to leave.

I grabbed my purse and looked inside. “Uh-oh… where is my wallet?”

No wallet. Therefore, no driver’s license. No ID of any kind. Therefore,

zero possibility of getting past the gate of Fort Hood.

“noooooooooooo!” I wailed, softly so as not to scare the baby. “I never put it back in!!” Really. How did I not notice the lack of that large, bulky wallet while stuffing my planner and Kindle into my purse that morning?

Whaddayagonna do about it now except say, “I’ll stay here. Text me some pictures. See you when you get back.”

Actually, it could have been worse, like if I had gone along to post without looking in my purse. I would have spent the hour-plus cooling my heels in the Visitor Center, which is about half a notch above a Department of Public Safety Driver’s License waiting room.

At least I would’ve had my Kindle.

Anyway, as disappointed as I felt, Eric still got his promotion, Brent texted me some good photos, and I’m just as proud of Eric as if I’d been right there. When he got home I said, “Hi, Eric! Your terrorist mother is glad to see you!”

And, we all got to celebrate together that afternoon. See? (photo evidence at right)

After such a blow to my hopes, never mind my ego, maybe a workout will help me feel better.

Still tweaking that “packing the gym bag” thing….

Thanks for reading!

I am linking up with my sweet friend Jen and the Soli Deo Gloria Sisterhood.

About Jan C. Johnson

Welcome! If you like food, reading, laughing over life's little disasters, and maybe thinking about the bigger things of life, you have come to the right place. Besides blogging, I write humorous fiction, though real life tends to leave fictional humor in the shade. But I'm not a total goofball. No, really. I'm also working on a biography project. I live in North Texas with my husband, Brent. We enjoy bicycling, Mexican food, and traveling to visit our kids and grandkids.
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2 Responses to Suspiciously Healthy

  1. Being Woven says:

    Oh my! How we do things with consequences unknown! Congratulations to your son and grateful for his service to our country. ~ linda
    PS…I loved your comparison to the “license” waiting room as my husband was just there yesterday and had a tale to tell!! Many tales! : )


  2. Pingback: Baby Steps to Fitness | Joywriting: Everybody Has a Story

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