Jane Fonda that is. On Friday, I gave notice to Mickey that I was giving up the wine biz and taking up the fitness biz. He got very excite, not that I was leaving thankfully, but because in his mind I was now going to (somehow magically) morph into Jane Fonda. You know, the aerobics-doing, big hair-having, unitard-wearing Jane from the '80's. Uh-huh. On so many levels, that is not going to be happening.
Mickey kept calling me Jane Fonda, well actually, he kept calling me James Fonda (funnily enough) until Minnie corrected his pronounciation. He would flit into the office, where I was attempting to work, with arms out-stretched, doing a couple of jumping-jacks beside my desk, with a crazy grin on his face...more Joker, less Jane if you ask me.
Anyways, I have now started, officially working with Ricky, and unofficially with Steffi Graf. She's our spokesperson/model, on every single piece of print material - not really the worst role model. She's only one of the coolest, fittest women in the whole wide world.
So, along with business and kiddie english classes, I am now trying to blab a lot in German about working out and getting fitter. On that note, my half of a half marathon training (doesn't that sound way better than just 10 km?) has kicked into full swing. Except that great guy thinks I'm soooo out of shape that there's no possible way I will be able to finish (such a lucky girl to have such a supportive b-friend). He says he'll stand on the sidelines yelling 'booo, boooo'. I have now hidden all the calendars in the house so that he hopefully doesn't find out when the 'race' takes place.
If I could have one wish, I would fly my dear friend/running partner, Bob, out for the day to just walk/talk those 10 km with me. What fun. And, if he wanted to call me Jane I wouldn't even care.
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