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 arc...

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 ...

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. ...

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....

Yup, I'm still here.  I'm not sure anyone else is.  I know the secret to a blog is frequent posting.  That is what I read.  Instead, I have been around doing other stuff.  Mainly, two things have happened.  I worried that my electronic life could be bigger than my real one.  That made me want to focus on people.  The second, much bigger part of the my absence, is this story.  Once upon a time, we bought a house.  Before much of the work was started, I sat my husband down to watch this: After watching some of the movie, "this movie was ridiculous, over-the-top movie from the'80s."  I wonder what that husband of summer yesteryear would say to us now.  Yes, I am still here.  The house is still here.  Three contractors have asked how my marriage is.  It is still here.  My bank account...not so much.  That movie did capture the truth... a bit.  We have had more than our share of u...

I went to an exercise class which involved mats and balance balls.  I learned a few things.  We did all sorts of maneuvers on the ball.  Not only was it hard,  the act of balancing made me giggle.   I felt so released to just concentrate on trying to stay on the ball in the oddest of positions.  What fun!  I laughed out loud during some of the routines.  I wondered what other activities would cause me to laugh out loud. Maybe it isn't so hard to find that inner child.  Heaven knows we (I) could use a good giggle more often. After the class, I was hurrying to throw some clothes on so I could get my youngest ones.  The instructor popped out of the shower.  She was so chatty.  As she talked about the class and her personal life,  I was a few feet from her.  I looked at my shoes, looked at her eyes, the floor or my bag.  She showed no sign of discomfort or hurry.   This woman was middle-aged and obviously comf...

It has been a while and the nature of our life has not altered.  Lately, our life has had a theme of waiting.  Waiting for a house to finish, waiting to be pick-up a spouse from a business trip, waiting to see if one likes a job better, waiting for an injury to heal, waiting to have some time alone with a spouse,  waiting for a much needed income tax return, waiting to see changes in child-parent dynamics, waiting to be more patient (the irony?) or waiting to know what my new life direction should be.   As I thought about these themes,  I realized, duh!, how much of our life centers around waiting.  It is a life skill I think should be more directly addressed in education and life.  It seems so simple.  Yet, the act of creating a moment which requires waiting is not merely enough.  The question is, how do we/I handle the waiting?  As I look back on the last nine months, sometimes it has been merely sitting and holding my breath....

My nose is large and from my dad.  I did not get his wonderful straight teeth, I got my mom's mess and an orthodontist's dream.  As you grow up, you start sorting what comes from whom.  After a while, you think you have it all divided.  However, the aging process can reintroduce one to their gene pool.  Years ago, my dad was giving a public speech (talk if you're LDS).  He felt strongly about the subject and became teary.  All I remember was watching his nose create the biggest line of mucus I had ever seen.  He was so concentrated upon his message, that the use of a hanky did not occur.  I was transfixed. Would the snot drop?  If so, when and where?  Eventually, it became as exciting as waiting for the New Year ball to drop.  Yes, it did drop.  And instead of saying the AMEN to the preacher, I let out a snorty giggle because it splashed down.  I have a brother more than a decade older than myself.  I used to gig...

An entire month went by--whoosh, I know where it went....food, fun and frolicking.  I really wanted the ah of an entry in December, I will have to settle for January 1st, which is almost as cool.  So, how was your year?  If I were to look back at this year, I would say some awesome parts and some not pretty parts.  The notes are: My hip injury became so difficult to manage, I was not even able to swim in February.  I did not know how much change I would experience later in the year.  This lack of outlet became more difficult as the year went on.  Oh, how I would have liked to do some glorious trail runs this year.  Sigh, not to be.  My second was diagnosed with autism.  Not a total shocker.  He is high functioning enough, that his peers will just think of him as the odd kid.  He has a poor sense of reading emotions and people.  So, he can be very fatiguing.  He had been having problems at school and I just felt su...