When Worlds Collide

When I’m not geeking out at MIT, making Jell-O at home, or striking a pose at the yoga studio, I’m a gym rat at my neighborhood athletic club. I took up weight training when I was a 30-year-old divorcée, and I liked it right away, pumping iron in the old dungeon-like weight room at MIT’s Johnson Athletic Center. Although it worked out that I was something of a gypsy in my 30s and couldn’t always get to a gym because of economic or health circumstances, I got back to it whenever I could. Now that I’m pretty well settled, I’ve been at it on a consistent, ongoing basis for the last five and a half years. A year and a half ago, I was feeling a little stuck. I wasn’t happy with my progress on my lifts, and after years of working out solo, I decided it might be helpful to work with a trainer. (Lately he’s keen to have me learn to do double-unders. At my age, learning to jump rope again – is it any wonder I’ve resorted to Jell-O?)

Anyway, at our last session, in between doing sets of bouncing a medicine ball off a wall sideways from a lunge position, he suddenly asked me about Jell-O with an opaque or creamy texture – how do you get Jell-O to look that way? Without really having to think about it, I found myself saying, “Well, there are a number of things that could be going on there….” and I rattled off various ways of making opaque Jell-O, including an explanation of the technique for whipping Jell-O into a froth. That may have been more than he really wanted to know, and it brought into focus for me the extent to which I’ve internalized this stuff. It was an odd moment.

Meanwhile, I’ve got a recipe in progress that I’m kind of jazzed about, so stay tuned….

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