Running Red Momma

I had some pictures taken of me a month ago.  Bam, age has hit.  Massive crinkles all under my eyes.  We don't know how our bodies are going to age.  It hit me with a smack.  At first, I looked up laser surgery.  Who am I kidding I thought.  Then, I went to Target and bought some promises in a bottle.   I spent quite a bit and I am not sure it will get me anywhere.  Finally, I settled on getting my eyebrows threaded.  I hadn't had them worked on in a few years. I thought this might make me feel refreshed.  I stopped in and was welcomed by a pleasant woman ready to have at it.  It hurts.  I casually gripped my hand in an iron fist.  "Much better, you are beautiful."  They were! I felt like a movie star.  She then asked (in an obvious more like a statement tone), "above your lip?"  Yes, yes, I am gifted with hair.  I spent far less than Target and I already looked awesome. I trotted home ready to arch my eyes and look mysterious.  No one said anything.  I look

What's up with you?  I haven't talked in this venue for a while.  If you are reading this, how was your summer?  I would love to sit on my porch and chat, drink limeade and eat some guacamole.  We would talk about whatever as we watched the light in the trees.  If you want I will make this for you when you come by my house. Anything awesome you did?  We were too involved with dance and soccer at the start.  At the end, I had to seize summer.  So, we went swimming, hiking, fountain dancing, crafting and museuming (yeah that's a word).  I have written things in my head, but I have yet to put much to paper.  So, I will try to give a snap shot of now. I am able to run 7-8 miles.  A joyful miracle. I tried running REALLY barefoot last week--not on grass. Blisters everywhere. Duh. I have re-experienced the joy of summer play.  Adults need to do that more often.  I call y'all to do mermaid in pool, bike at night, go down the slides and look at stars.  Wonderful. Or go camp

Recently, I read a book about Eleanor Roosevelt.  It was one of the standard books you might see today. A semi-decent writer spent a year exploring the life of Eleanor Roosevelt.  We have seen this theme before.  I loved learning about her (Eleanor). She was constantly learning, evolving and challenging herself.  Within the book, the author decides to do something which makes her scared/afraid each day.  I didn't want to cheapen the experience, so I decided to take on one big challenge. When I was younger, I was not coordinated.  I still am not.  I could not master a jumping jack until I was a teen.  Neen, my older sister, would say I never did.  When gym class did jump rope relays I was picked last.   In my mind, I wanted to be a beautiful ballerina.  I did not have the opportunity when I was younger.  Now,  I am aware of how much a lack.  I decided to embrace Eleanor's challenge and take an adult ballet class.  What a learning opportunity. Hands, feet, arms, thighs and head

We were driving downtown today and saw a few boys in slouchy jeans with tattoos.  "Mom, I just don't get boys," said my daughter.   My mind immediately went to this scene: That movie is not new, yet I haven't seen much change.  The pants may be tighter and they are wearing gauges in their ears.  I thought of a time when boys, okay some boys, wore shirts with collars and sweaters.  Maybe the preppy look was out of control.  But,  I remember a time when boys looked like this: Just spending a few seconds there and you get a different vibe. Yeah, I know this is what we thought hoped all boys should look like.  Menswear has a cycle of about 20 years.  I am ready to campaign for regime change.  It doesn't have to be izods and boat shoes.  But, dudes work with me!

When I was younger, I loved to dance in my living room.  Pretending I was some great ballerina, I would spin and twirl about the house.  I always regretted not being able to learn how to do ballet.  My daughter started ballet when she was 3.  I kept it casual, not wanting to give my desires any pressure.  Eventually, she wanted to  work harder herself.  She had a recital this past week. My eyes have been opened to that world.  I now wonder if that is a world where I would have been comfortable. This studio runs a strict program.  I get that, or at least I thought I did.  I was a volunteer to help during dress rehearsals.  The director could not stop lecturing about hair.  She wanted a certain shape of bun, location of bun, use of hair net, certain clips....endless.  At least three separate times I saw her pull some girl up and explain to everyone how this girl's hair was not right.  She did this with all age groups.  I felt it building in my head : ENOUGH WITH THE HAIR! Later, a