one more time...

Several evenings a week I meet with a couple other teachers at my school for an hour of workout at the sala de sport.
The workouts are partly gossip hour, with the addition of a worn-out treadmill, one weight-lifting machine and thick mats.
One day, I brought my laptop so we would have music.
And after I had set up my laptop, I remembered that I had a pilates workout routine on my desktop.
So I opened it and Silvia and I started doing mermaid poses and scissoring our legs in synch with the woman on the laptop screen.
My abs were sore the next day, although not so much from the pilates as from the laughter.
Imagine:
Me and Silvia are laying on mats next to each with our legs up at 45 degree angles, our heads and shoulders off the ground, pumping our arms up and down, while counting. The pilates woman doing the same motions happily talking. "15 more, 14 more, 13 more."
"No more," gasps Silvia next to me, letting her legs and shoulders relax on the mat.
"12 mai! Cum pot sa fac asa?( 12 more, how am I supposed to do that?)" asks Gabi, laughing and letting her legs fall in a very un-controlled, un-pilates manner onto the mat.
Later, while the pilates woman is talking us through some odd pose, and we are trying to figure out how we are supposed to be positioning our arms and knees and feet, Silvia let's out an exasperated, "ce vrei? ce vrei, fata?" (what do you want, woman?) This time, I collapse on my mat, laughing big belly-jolly guffaws.

I so I have continued to bring my pilates workout over the last week and we are becoming experts, with the occasional, "ce vrei, fata?" interspersed between leg lifts and sit-ups. And we look so odd lined up next to each other.