L'chaim!

I did it.

I made my way up to the elliptical. On the way, I procrastinated. Just a little. I hung Sylvia's jacket in the closet (it was on the hall tree, and I'm thinking that place will be bare of jackets for some time now - yay!). I brushed my teeth (didn't want to work out with bad breath). I removed my six-day-old nail polish.

But I made it up there (our elliptical is in the third-floor game room). For 30 excruciating minutes.

Music on my iPod helps (also helps drown out the phone, which will invariably ring once I get one there, and I hate the distraction of wondering who needs or wants what from me at that moment). Today's music of choice, music that moved and inspired and motivated me: Broadway.

I need to remove the jazz - it's just not fast enough to make me work. Dave Edmunds never fails; other artists, depends on the song. But for some reason, the strains of Topol and Fiddler on the Roof were doing it for me today.

While on the elliptical (for those 30 unbearable minutes), I had some time to think. And what I thought of, in my daily exercise-induced haze (not the endorphins that others drone on about - there is no euphoria in my torture), was that I want my life to be like a musical.

That's right. I want to break into spontaneous song. And dance. And for others around to not only stare at me as if I am crazy, but to join in. And know all the words and harmonies.

I want to dance in the street, to grab passers-by and have them join me in song. I want the lyrics of my songs to answer, or at least ponder, the problems of the world - well, of today, anyway. I want glorious music to follow me as I walk away with a skip in my step.

But I live in the real world, so I know this isn't going to happen. I can, however, enjoy the music in the background of my mind, knowing that even if others can't hear it, I am dancing through life.

L'chaim - to life!