I’m sitting in the family room, my head against the back of the couch, my legs stretched out under the coffee table, staring at the ceiling. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. My golden doodle, Huckleberry, barks, bringing me out of my trance. Continue reading
Have you noticed how positive social media has been about the whole self-quarantine, shelter-in-place, social-distancing thing? Everyone’s all:Continue reading
So I’m learning a thing lately. (No, I’m not talking about a thing in silks class, though I can show you some videos if you like.) Anyway, I’m learning something and, by golly, I feel great! Continue reading
When I was a kid, I had a Wonder Woman outfit. Not the cheap plastic-y kind you get from a Halloween store today, but a homemade, kick-ass one: blue shorts with ironed-on white stars (unevenly cut out by my seven-year-old hands), a white t-shirt with red stripes, and a length of twine wrapped around a belt loop for a magic lasso.
Best of all: bullet-deflecting silver bracelets my brother Tim cut for me out of an empty Continue reading
You know me: I’m the one always encouraging you to ditch work, to take a snow day, to join me at a silks class or climb a tree, to run an obstacle course. Responsibilities are boring, while fun is – well, you can finish that sentence all on your own, I bet.
Tuesday I took a great class at my aerial arts studio called Flight & Flow. The class starts with half an hour of yoga and ends with half an hour “flying” (that is, working out on the sling and silks – doing upside down sit-ups, pull-ups, climbing, sweating, having fun). As we often do, we began the yoga portion with deep breathing, letting our breath go all the way down to our bellies.
Here’s a thing: I never relax my stomach. I grew up being told to suck in my gut because it supports your lower back, blah blah blah. I suspect my mother just didn’t like my belly Continue reading
After I began writing this, I clicked away from the page to read a text. When I clicked back to the word doc, it was blank. My well-thought-out opening paragraphs were not there. Why? Because I hadn’t actually written them. I’d composed them only in my head, though I kind of remembered writing them… Now, as a mature (hah!) woman of 49, I find myself increasingly concerned with what it means to be a grownup, and I wonder if spending so much time living life in my head proves I’ve never achieved adulthood. Have you? Cause I think I’m missing some adult section of my brain that most of you possess. Continue reading