Were So Gallantly Singing

I seem to be on some kind of video binge lately, but this is pretty spectacular. The two girls on the right are 6 years old, the two in the center are 7, and the one on the left is 8. Amazing!

Because It's Fun

Turns out, I just need more fun in my life!



Something I need to remember. I'm nearly always motivated by fun.

Laughter is the Best Downward Dog

Knock knock
Who's there?
Yoga
Yoga who?
Yoga to try this, it feels amazing.

I pulled together a little make-shift yoga studio in my unfinished basement with a big bolt of cool fabric for the walls and some smelly candles for lights. On most days that space is used by my friends and I for a nice, relaxing, and rejuvenating yoga class taught by our favorite yogini. Tonight, however, the class was taught by a hokey DVD instructor and was made up of me, my sister-in-law, and my 9-year-old nephew who couldn't stop laughing about us sticking our bums in the air for downward facing dog. Now I have the giggles about it. I'm not sure I will be able to keep a straight face the next time I try that yoga pose. It might be kind of like trying not to laugh during church.

Turns out there really is a form of yoga called laughter yoga. And here I thought Jeremy and I made it up.

Winter Already?

It snowed today. It's definitely October and not May. Where did summer go?

May I Have This Maypole Dance?

It's May Day or Beltane and I don't have a Maypole. Does anyone do that any more? I remember doing a Maypole dance when I was a little girl. I finally was allowed to wear the pretty yellow dress I got as a flower girl at my uncle Ross' wedding and I had ringlets and daisies in my hair. The yellow dress was long and twirly and shiny and satiny, and I felt like a princess. May Day was a liberating joyous day when I could let my inner girly girl out and carry around baskets full of flowers.

Shortly after the days of that yellow dress, all my girly tendencies were carefully hidden away and I was recreated into a pseudo tom boy. It was foreign territory to me. I still wanted to wear dresses and lace and ribbons, but at my school it was very uncool to wear a skirt. It hadn't been many years since girls were forced to wear dresses to school and we were all reveling in the new-found freedom of looking exactly like the boys. My mom still wanted me to go to school with my long blonde hair in perfect ringlets, but the girly girls were considered freaky and I had to play kickball just to try to fit in. So, I tied up the curls my mom had spent hours carefully arranging and pretended I thought dolls were stupid and playing house was downright boring. I ran around and tried to keep up with the boys and not even look at the flowers.

It look me many years to embrace that girl again. Mostly because I am tall for a girl (kinda tall even for a guy), I played volleyball and showed up at track and pretended to be that tom boy I was supposed to be. Now I just wish I had that yellow dress in my size and some pretty daisies for my hair. Oh, and a Maypole with cute boys to dance with.

P.S. Happy birthday to my friend Bonnie who is the real Queen of the May.

Being a Nut Beats Going Nuts

I'm having a love affair with pine nuts. It all began when I got an impossibly big bag of the little suckers from Costco. I started with the expected: fresh pesto. I love that stuff. Then I moved on to adding them to stir fry, which was also unexpectedly delicious. These jewels are tender and a little sweet and crisp. Perfect for stir fry. I'm not going to Google this idea and just pretend that I made it up. I sprinkled them on oatmeal...yummy. I poured them in a smoothie...nice and nutty. And I baked them into brownies...not bad.

I even fed some to the cute duck couple who have taken up residence in my back yard. I'm not sure they were as thrilled with the pine nuts as I am. I think they were under the distinct impression I was throwing the tiny nuts AT them instead of TO them. They scurried out of their private pond and started hiking up the snow bank. So I quit raining down pine nuts and backed up quietly.

Which brings me to another subject that's unrelated, but on my mind. What do I feed wild ducks? I've heard you shouldn't feed them bread. I've read something about cracked corn, but I don't know where to get that and I don't know where Jimmy lives. (Okay, bad joke, but bonus points if you get it.)

Maybe tomorrow I'll hit the feed store. And Costco for more pine nuts.

Just Another Day in the Snowglobe

Holy cow! Check out this freaky tax-day snow. I can't bear the thought of shoveling or snowblowing. I think I'll just let it be. I'm beginning to think I live in Narnia.

I Dreamed a Dream

You have to watch this video all the way through. I promise you won't be sorry. Susan Boyle is an unemployed 47-year-old lady who has a dream to be a professional singer. Never been married (or kissed for that matter), she lives in a flat with her cat called Pebbles. Her audition is something to see!

If the embed feature is blocked, go to this Britain's Got Talent link.

Race for the Money

Sometimes I think I'm some kind of cross between Anne of Green Gables and Bridget Jones.

This afternoon my friend, Julie, and I decided to wander down to the new Red Mango that just opened a few blocks from where we work. It was a blustery afternoon, to say the least. We could feel the building swaying in the wind and had to hold on to our skirts when we got outside.

We enjoyed our delicious fro yo by the fireplace and watched the wind pick up even more, bending the new little trees and whipping the grand-opening flags with abandon. I carefully stashed my cash in my bra for the walk back and we set off down the street. As we were crossing the four-lane road, a big gust of wind came up and blew my money right out of my bra. There I was, chasing $15 down the middle of the street in my billowing black skirt and fluttery top with my hands outstretched, reaching for the bills that were always tumbling just out of my reach. They rolled and flew, getting run over by passing cars and skipping through intersections. I galloped along after them, over grassy medians and through turning lanes filled with cars, and people wondering just what the hurry was and why I was sprinting crazily like Phoebe from Friends down the middle of the road.

This spectacle, of course, was also in embarrassingly full view of our 5-story building filled with co-workers and window offices.

Luckily, Julie, who is much younger and sprightlier, realized that I wasn't going to give up, so she powered ahead and grabbed the $10 and the $5 just as it was about to blow under a big truck.

We got back to the office with pink cheeks stained with tears from laughing, forever bonded by our impromptu track and field event.

April Showers

I could be wrong, but I was almost sure it was April. Isn't it?