They call me Zumba Delicious

Not content to limit exposing my lack of rhythm to only one Zumba group class, I decided to visit another. This one has the words "dance studio" in its name, and they offer Zumba certification classes, which should have been clues for me to stay away. But no, lured by its proximity to my workplace and the inexpensive fee, I forged ahead and before I knew it, my dance skills were on full display.

The class started out well enough, the room where the class is held is spacious enough to accommodate a class of 30 comfortably. What's even better is that participants dance without the benefit of "house" lights. There are only colored spotlights similar to what you would see in a nightclub. You would think this would make it difficult for the instructor onstage to see someone at the very back of the room, but that was not the case.

After 30 minutes of following the steps better than I did at my previous Zumba class, (which is held in a fitness center that I deem too expensive for me to join) there was a short break in the music. I wanted to keep moving a bit so I would not collapse to the floor in exhaustion due to an abrupt stop. Others were moving I presume for a similar reason. But while others were safe, unfortunately I was not.

All of a sudden I hear this accented voice say "You in the green shirt, you are new?"

I felt everyone staring, perhaps everyone was not, but it felt like they were. As the instructor spoke, I was struck by the fact that had my shirt not been such a fluorescent green, she probably would not have noticed me given the dim lighting. But combine that with the fact that I was moving around and I became a prime target.

Thankfully I was not called up to the stage alone, another newbie (who weighed maybe 95 lbs) was called up as well.

When I reached the stage, the instructor looked at me and said into the mic "She is Zumba Delicious", and in a room filled with waifs and the modestly proportioned, I must admit her description was not wrong.

So once on the stage, our job was to dance with the instructor. This involved Zumba-ing facing the crowd and Zumba-ing with our backs (and in my case BADONKADONK to the crowd). Yes, that's exactly what I wanted to happen at my Zumba class.

I am just glad the instructor chose that time to do basic steps. As a result, I was able to do them correctly and at the appropriate pace. Still, I bet many in that room of Carmelites were realizing that at least one stereotype isn't true.

Fogo de Chao for my birthday

I spent part of my birthday Friday dining with a generous pal at Fogo de Chao. It was my first visit to this brazilian-inspired eatery. The focus is on the meat and they roast a variety of meats over an open fire pit (but not in view of patrons). They call the method churrasco.

I enjoyed the ambiance of the restaurant and the attention you receive from the waiters/waitresses and men, referred to as Gaucho chefs, who bring the meat directly to your table. And yes, they actually wear gauchos as part of their attire. The chefs who were working on our visit were handsome Latin men with accents.

We were provided with a cardboard circular disk with a red side and a green side. When we turned it to green, the chefs brought mini roasted chicken drumsticks, slices of top sirloin, bottom sirloin, filet mignon, beef ribs, lamb, as well as, pork offerings to the table. The sirloin and filet were great. I could taste the true flavor of the meat because it was free from sauces or reductions that other upscale restaurants favor. I also enjoyed the seasoned mashed potatoes and the golden brown doughy goodness of the rolls. Other side items included the crispy hot polenta (it reminded me of cornbread) and the fried bananas (which neither I nor my pal sampled).

Regarding beverages, they have a wine list; some of the bottles line the wall near the tables. The soft drinks available include Coca-Cola in the glass bottle, which the waiter pours into a glass while at your table.

I believe we received even more attention because a former friend was on the wait staff and he basically appeared with plates, advice, proper menu item pronunciation whenever we needed him (and even a few times when we didn't). It made me think how amusing it is when people from my past just pop up unexpectedly. In honor of my birthday, he gave me a slice of key lime pie with a candle. It was a nice ending to a marvelous meal.

Employee Has Kind Words for Starbucks

How Starbucks Saved My Life is part memoir/part publicity piece. Author Michael Gates Gill effectively describes his transition from former ad agency creative director to hourly employee serving coffee and cleaning restrooms. He provides just the right amount of information on his wealthy upbringing and how his family's wealth gave him a head start on the success that he achieved during the majority of his adult career. I believe that given his background the way he embraced his new low-profile life in his 60s was commendable, especially considering how much our society values money, power and youth. For me, this was the most positive aspect of the book.

The portions I questioned were his devotion to Starbucks and his statements on the customer service most employees were trained to provide. I think highly of Starbucks. I have Starbucks mugs, thermoses and even a bear. Also, I was a regular at two of my hometown locations. Most employees I encountered provided service that ranged from acceptable to good. However, I saw few employees who provided the superior service Gill described. I've visited multiple locations in several states and can name only one employee who went beyond an enthusiastic greeting and calling out the drink order with gusto. (Thanks to Lori at the now-defunct Precedent store for knowing her customers and inquiring about their lives). I also can recall only one location (in Hotlanta) that had a predominantly black staff. I remember when entering I felt like I was visiting another planet. That is how rare of an occurrence it was for me. Perhaps, the remainder of the company's black baristas are in the section of NYC, where Gill worked.

Overall though, I enjoyed this book and as I finished the last page I wondered if the author ever had the medical procedure that he kept delaying. Since there is a rumor that a movie will be made based on his story, maybe Gill is saving that detail for the big screen.

Facebook RANT

There are a five things that bother me about Facebook that I can no longer keep to myself. So here they are:

1)People who compulsively post on their wall. No one needs to know what you are doing or thinking every minute. Really.

2)People who have "friends" that post comments after every statement they make regardless of its quality. (Yes, I'll admit this statement is fueled by the fact that I get so few comments).


3)People who post photos of themselves that could be considered unflattering. Your enemies should be the only people who use such images against you.


4)People who include too much personal information in their profile or on their wall. (Continue posting your life story and accompanying photos if you think identity theft is just a myth).


5) The intellectuals, or perhaps the correct word is psuedo-intellectuals. Theories and outrage abound on their walls over everything from Old Navy's "inappropriate" mannequin commercial to those darn AIG bonuses. Please give me a break.