C and I did a trip to the gym yesterday. The gym. It sounds so good to say, doesn't it? "We went to the gym." We were healthy. We "worked out." We are shining examples of a modern healthy couple. Unfortunately, it's not the truth. It's been a good two weeks for me. And C? Well, let's just say it's been a long time. We bought her a year's membership last Thanksgiving and, I think the number of holiday's we've had since then outnumber the times she's gone in for a workout. Something strange must have happened to her registration in that time because when she swiped her card, the guy at the counter said her membership had expired.

"Expired?"

"Yes."

"No. Can't be. We bought it over Thanksgiving last year. It hasn't been a year yet. Are you sure it's the right person?"

"Well, is this Susan O.?"

Ummm. I'll say this: It was an awkward way for C to find out about the second wife I have in Utah.

On the elliptical machine, my muscles were excited to be moving and stretching again. They sucked in the endorphins like an alcoholic on a binge. C's muscles were less enthusiastic. I could hear them making some complaints, even over my iPod's earbuds. But she told them who was boss.

After the workout, we went to Potbelly's for some, eh-hem, low-fat, high-energy bio-fuel, er, sandwiches. And an oatmeal, chocolate-chip cookie. (Hey, oatmeal's good for you.) We tried to sit outside to enjoy the great weather we've been having, but there was a very persistent and (I'm sure) extremely deadly bee that kept flying around us and dive-bombing our sandwiches. We moved tables, but it had no effect. The bee was not letting up. It wanted some of that yummy meatball sandwich, damnit. So we did the only brave and reasonable thing we could think of: we moved inside.

We were a tad bitter to have have been chased from the fresh air outside. Another couple sat at the exact same table we had been at. We glared at them through the window.

"Do you think they'll get attacked by the bee?" I asked.

"They better," said C.

The couple sat pleasantly enjoying their meal for a minute or two, which really piqued us. Then it happened: the bee made a kamikaze swipe at the girl's sandwich, then went straight for her neck. She jumped in her seat and waved her hands wildly in front of her face.

"Ha!" I said.

"Get 'em!" said C.

At one point the guy stood up and made a boxer-style, one-two-punch motion at the bee, which was highly amusing. From our insect-free vantage point, we took hardy bites from our sandwiches and watched with pleasure as the other couple guarded their food nervously and made occassional swipes at the bee. Entertainment comes in all forms.

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