Armageddon

It's confirmed. I simply do not belong here. I'm at a bar drinking a Pomegranate martini and eating hummus. Wait. That doesn't sound too bad, does it. Let me back up.
Last night we had an ice storm. I think ice storms are pretty much confined to the northeast. At least we never had them in Colorado. Only fluffy snow.
Well, ice storms happen when it rains and then freezes and everything turns to ice. The tree branches break off and the power lines get knocked down and boom. We are left without any power. In our house that means no heat or light, and, no water.
But let me back up again to really create the scenario of why I don't belong here. I've been working out for years, right? I worked out with trainers and learned how to lift weights and got strong and muscular. Well, since my move, I have yet to find a gym where I feel like I enjoy the atmosphere and the people. Now I'm at Anytime Fitness and I despise it. I'm surrounded either by the deconditioned older folks of Hudson, or the muscle head blue collar meatheads of Hudson. My ears hurt from the accent in central Massachusetts and I just can't stand being there. As a result, I'm not as strong and muscular as I used to be.
SO, I signed up for some hardcore personal training at a sports conditioning gym called Cressey Performance. Aside from one woman who is a professional trainer and with whom I already have somewhat of a history with in the fitness industry (sigh, another story) it is all high school athletes and professional baseball players. The trainers are young guys who are as fit as can be. They blast hard rock 'n roll and they are there to work your butt off.
Okay, that's what I wanted, but I've had my ass worked off before hardcore, and I've enjoyed it. This is nothing enjoyable. Tony, the trainer, is clearly helping me out because it's his job, and he's not the least bit interested in helping me. He hasn't asked me a single question about my history working out, my interests, my health, my body. All he knows is that I want to get strong, and we're off from there. He is working on my form, and it's not going well, and he's loading on weights that are way too heavy for me to bother with my form. I'm just struggling not to hurt myself.
Luckily I haven't spent too much money because this isn't gonna work for me. Feeling like I'm old and am becoming irrelevant in the fitness world is not going to work for me. I know there are gyms and trainers who will work a mid 40's woman hard and with respect, but they don't exist in central Massachusetts.
So, that's the start of my rant of why I don't belong here.
Now the ice storm. Now mind you, there's a lot of baggage wrapped up in ice storms in my family. On Long Island, when I was growing up, my ultra neurotic father did not do well during ice storms and power losses. Suffice it to say that the absolute worst time in my family occurred during the 5 day ice storm ('77 or so) that sent him into somewhat of a breakdown with the four of us standing at the bottom of the driveway screaming bloody murder at each other.
Today's ice storm, I can tell, is making SSMG very nervous. He's worried that the pipes will freeze, and he's worried about the dogs. He anxious, and I can't do anything for him. Tonight, I will have dinner with my family - all checked into the same hotel - and he will sit in the room with the dogs so they won't bark and disturb the neighbors. Or maybe he's just worried that their barking means they're unhappy. I'm not sure. But he needs to get out and have a strong drink and instead, he can't go anywhere because he's worried.
Sigh.
So to deal with all of this, I am at Allora, drinking Pomegranate martinis and feeling really pissed off that I live in Central Massachusetts. The bar is filled with people who have loud, harsh, abrasive accents. They are not people that I will ever talk to. I make no friends here, and when I try, I think I'm dismissed - as I was in High School - as too "soft" or "nice." I don't know. Since I signed up for Facebook, I've had the pleasure of seeing how fantastic all of my High School graduating class look and remembering how I was ignored all through school because I didn't fit in. Sitting here in Allora in Central Massachusetts, soft and not conditioned because my personal trainer is mean, during an ice storm that brings out the worst in the men I know, I am more than ready to get the hell out of here.
Massachusetts, today, looks like Armageddon.