These gloves (my gloves) were drying out on my kitchen table. Boxing gloves are a foreign object in our home. Therefore, I heard these same two questions three times. (Once from each of the males living in my house as they entered the kitchen separately.)
- Q1) What are these? A1) Boxing gloves.
- Q2) Whose are they? A2) Mine.
Each of them responded with a big grin and/or laugh and said things like:
- You’ve lost your mind Mom.
- Oh my.
- I want to see you box.
- Does Mrs. Dubsky have gloves too? (Yes. She does.)
- What is the world coming to?
I just grinned back at them and put my sweaty hand wrap in the laundry. If they keep bugging me I’m going to give them a big one-two punch. Just kidding. Seriously, boxing is a surprisingly tough workout. But I can never get through it without laughing. Denise (the awesome boxing instructor for Mrs. Dubksy and me) thinks I’m weird because I laugh so much when we are boxing. But hey, I’m a lover not a fighter, so boxing is funny to me. I hope I never need to take it seriously and really punch someone. Cue the theme from Rocky…...