Just like grandma. Not my grandma, but someone's grandma.

There are two things I want to learn how to do: needle work and cake design. I'm aware this makes me sound like grandma. Not my grandma, but someone's grandma. But lately as I sit around wasting my time and watching the days pass without anything to show for it except dead skin cells, I think it would be nice to have something tangible I can see or touch to mark the passing of time.

Most of the things I do are about self maintenance. I have started Pilates because I'm getting pudgy and I've never been able to touch my toes. I'm getting pudgy because I can no longer eat everything I want, and yet I still do. I can't touch my toes because God hates me. Actually, I don't know why I can't touch my toes. I have a distinct memory of kindergarten gym and my teacher pointing me out to show the other kids that not everyone can touch their toes. That's how I know I've never been able to do it, both freeing me somehow from the responsibility of my current failure to bend, and also discouraging me at the same time.

I take belly dance classes, and have for over a year, but even that feels like it's about exercise in a lot of ways. Afterward, instead of reflecting on what I've learned, I think about how many calories that must have burned and boy could I go for a waffle and ice cream.

So taking up needlework would be an inexpensive, possibly rewarding hobby for the sake of learning and having some skill to speak of. As for my other desire, cake decorating, that may spiral me to need even more exercise. And since I only exercise under supervision and I'm not sure I can afford more classes of whatever offers supervision if I take cake classes too, this may be problematic. I still want to do it, though, because I like cake.

Also, I find myself zoning in and out of reality. I've always been like that, losing my focus during inappropriate times: school, work, conversations with people, hearing instructions. Yeah, I don't have my driver's license. All I need is to get distracted on the roads in Toronto. I don't need my face on the news. I don't want my obituary to state that I when I kicked the pail, I took down a bushel of strangers with me.

But I've found that when my mind is partially occupied with something my hands are doing, I'm suddenly more alert. I learned this when I was using my laptop in college during class and I was playing Dynomite online. One hand was kicking ass, and the other was raising in the air to answer questions (my teachers didn't care for this habit). Maybe needlework is the answer. I can't exactly tote my laptop around everywhere and conduct conversations that way. But I can get out some knitting needles. Even if they make me look like an old lady in training.

When I was younger I wanted to learn how to play the guitar. I thought it would be cool. But of course I'm not cool, and I couldn't even get past level 2 in piano after five years. Now all I want is to have something to do while I sit around vegetating that will enable me to pay more attention to my surroundings. Also, I think my life could use more cake.