Do I need it, at just 26? Maybe…at least that’s all I can think since older guys asking me out seems to be a trend not just a once in a while mistake. And not high school older where they’re like a whole two years older, but like oh I don’t know…more along the lines of they were finishing college while I was in nappies older.
Being 26 and dating (or not dating) is awful! I CAN NOT tell how old people are, and can’t get over the idea that I could conceivable date someone in their late 30s which means that they’re almost 40, and I remember when my parents were in their 30s and watched “30 Something”, it’s just terrifying. Plus, I feel like an ageist snob, and how do you tell a guy that even though he’s exactly what would look good on paper for you: outdoorsy, a community leader, volunteers all the time, sweet, enthusiastic, never married before but would like to settle down in a few years, owns gorgeous land, loves to travel…that you won’t go out on a date because you think that he may be too old (but really you have no clue how old he might be)? Hmmmmmmmmmmm
And I know I’m not alone in this. An alarming pattern has surfaced among my single girl friends of being asked out by much older guys who don’t see a problem with the fact that they have grandchildren and we still have grandparents that we visit.
So anti-wrinkle cream seems to be the only logical solution (but it’s not that logical since I don’t think I have wrinkles yet, but I do have some gray hairs so maybe I should pluck those), or maybe I just need to act even younger. Nope I’ve got it, I’m just going to become a nun until I’m in my 50s and then dating someone in their 70s might not seem so extreme?
Friday, December 14, 2007
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Golden Glasses
Forget looking at the world through rose colored glasses. I’m a runner and all I see is gold. No not the gold medal kind (finishers medal is just fine with me), but truly seeing the world with a golden glow.
I ran around Lady Bird Lake today and took the trail less traveled, aka east of IH-35. I managed to loose the trail twice, but the pain of those mishaps vanished when I was running with the sun on my back and a golden glow surrounded me. The sun filtered through the amber cypress and sycamore leaves (I’ll take fall colors whenever they get here…even if we had to wait until December) and glistened off the water on both sides of the trail.
I wish I could have captured the light to give all of you some running motivation, but trust me it’s worth it. “My” patch of sycamores/bald cypress is on the north side of the lake between the old Holly Power Plant and Pleasant Valley. There’s also another beautiful section of bald cypress on the south shore behind the Austin American Statesman offices.
Happy trails to you…
I ran around Lady Bird Lake today and took the trail less traveled, aka east of IH-35. I managed to loose the trail twice, but the pain of those mishaps vanished when I was running with the sun on my back and a golden glow surrounded me. The sun filtered through the amber cypress and sycamore leaves (I’ll take fall colors whenever they get here…even if we had to wait until December) and glistened off the water on both sides of the trail.
I wish I could have captured the light to give all of you some running motivation, but trust me it’s worth it. “My” patch of sycamores/bald cypress is on the north side of the lake between the old Holly Power Plant and Pleasant Valley. There’s also another beautiful section of bald cypress on the south shore behind the Austin American Statesman offices.
Happy trails to you…
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
South TX Safari
In Botswana I wrote every week and felt like I had something to share, but now that I’ve settled into a hum drum adult life it seems like things just aren’t that exciting but I think I’m completely wrong. The mass email I got the most positive comments about from Botswana was about waiting in line at the post office, and how much more day-to-day can you get than that? So it’s simply a psychological phenomenon of changing perception. Yesterday I went for a run around Lady Bird Lake and had a man in his 50s or 60s in full running gear skip towards me…yes skip, you would NEVER see that in Nac but somehow it fits into the Austin landscape…perception.
So for Thanksgiving we made the trip to find our oh-so-scattered/distant Texan cousins in the hopes that they’d share some jellied cranberry sauce with us (Which reminds me that for some reason I missed cranberry sauce on Thanksgiving! Must go back and repeat it really.).
South TX really should cash in on the eco-tourism trade, and not the game farming/lets go shoot an imported African deer trapped inside and enormous fence, but the kind where you go and look at animals ...odd concept I know. Folks get sooo excited about seeing an impala or two, why not some of our south TX species instead? Around Hebbronville I saw javelinas, Mexican eagles, a fox, a lone coyote, a stunning herd of deer, and what I was most excited about wild turkeys. It was like being in a game park and would have been easy to forget that we were simply cruising down a lonely stretch of very straight road. If I’d had a camera my album from the weekend would have looked a little somethin’ like this:
So for Thanksgiving we made the trip to find our oh-so-scattered/distant Texan cousins in the hopes that they’d share some jellied cranberry sauce with us (Which reminds me that for some reason I missed cranberry sauce on Thanksgiving! Must go back and repeat it really.).
South TX really should cash in on the eco-tourism trade, and not the game farming/lets go shoot an imported African deer trapped inside and enormous fence, but the kind where you go and look at animals ...odd concept I know. Folks get sooo excited about seeing an impala or two, why not some of our south TX species instead? Around Hebbronville I saw javelinas, Mexican eagles, a fox, a lone coyote, a stunning herd of deer, and what I was most excited about wild turkeys. It was like being in a game park and would have been easy to forget that we were simply cruising down a lonely stretch of very straight road. If I’d had a camera my album from the weekend would have looked a little somethin’ like this:
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Rantings/Runnings of a Mad Woman
Forget Remember, remember, the fifth of November…from now on I’m always going to remember the 11th. On November 11th I ran my first half-marathon. Why you ask? Because I couldn’t find a triathlon that fit into my schedule and I figured running is waaay harder than swimming or biking, so the half marathon’s actually a bigger challenge. Sometimes my logic astounds me.
Better yet somehow I talked two friends into joining the madness with me. Well actually I talked three into it, but Gillian proved that she has more sense then the rest of us combined and decided against it in the end. We spent Saturday night in a hotel 0.3 miles from the Alamo (thank you Trang you brilliant woman), woke up to a 6am wake up call, stumbled into my fancy new socks and then to the starting line, and KA-BOOM cannons exploded in front of the Alamo. Forget some piddely little shot-gun start, this is Texas!
13 miles is a looooong way. We went through poor neighborhoods covered in litter, rich neighborhoods with historic homes, back and forth over the river walk, through downtown twice, through the Mission state historic park, and ended in the Alamo Dome. When I was in England I ran 13 miles with my Dad and had the insane idea that it wasn’t so bad and that I could do a full one. At little after the 9 mile point when the half and full courses split all illusions of wanting to do the full marathon evaporated (along with gallons of my sweat leaving me covered in salt). I couldn’t have been more grateful that I only had 4 miles to go, and those poor folk had to face 17 more miles!
After 1 hour and 52 mins of running I raced across the finish line, stumbled into the arms of lovely volunteers who hung a finishers medal around my neck, removed my timing chip for me, and handed me bottled water.
Memory is a fantastic thing. I groaned for three days after the race as I tried to sit/stand or climb stairs, but as soon as the pain faded I remembered the sense of accomplishment and started talking folks into the 3M Half Marathon in January. So who’s in?
Better yet somehow I talked two friends into joining the madness with me. Well actually I talked three into it, but Gillian proved that she has more sense then the rest of us combined and decided against it in the end. We spent Saturday night in a hotel 0.3 miles from the Alamo (thank you Trang you brilliant woman), woke up to a 6am wake up call, stumbled into my fancy new socks and then to the starting line, and KA-BOOM cannons exploded in front of the Alamo. Forget some piddely little shot-gun start, this is Texas!
13 miles is a looooong way. We went through poor neighborhoods covered in litter, rich neighborhoods with historic homes, back and forth over the river walk, through downtown twice, through the Mission state historic park, and ended in the Alamo Dome. When I was in England I ran 13 miles with my Dad and had the insane idea that it wasn’t so bad and that I could do a full one. At little after the 9 mile point when the half and full courses split all illusions of wanting to do the full marathon evaporated (along with gallons of my sweat leaving me covered in salt). I couldn’t have been more grateful that I only had 4 miles to go, and those poor folk had to face 17 more miles!
After 1 hour and 52 mins of running I raced across the finish line, stumbled into the arms of lovely volunteers who hung a finishers medal around my neck, removed my timing chip for me, and handed me bottled water.
Memory is a fantastic thing. I groaned for three days after the race as I tried to sit/stand or climb stairs, but as soon as the pain faded I remembered the sense of accomplishment and started talking folks into the 3M Half Marathon in January. So who’s in?
Monday, October 15, 2007
Thankful
Yesterday should by any account have been a challenging day, but somehow it wasn't that stressful and I still feel happy...there must be some medical explanation for this. Bad things come in 3s: 1) Had man expose himself to me while I was running on an isolated part of Shoal Creek Trail, 2) had half of my front tooth fall out while flossing my teeth, 3) bike stolen.
At the end of the day I went and laid out by Barton Springs and watched the bats swooping over the water and clouds with lightening roll in. I knew I should be a bit upset, but all my friends think it's comical because when I start talking about it I can't stop laughing and oddly enough after an hour of laying out watching the clouds I felt very thankful. Things to be thankful for:
-A few years ago I would have been too depressed for any of the things to have happened. I wouldn't have been out running 8 miles so I wouldn't have run into the weirdo, I would have been too lethargic to take care of basic hygiene (like flossing) so my tooth would still be there, and there's no way I would have had a fantastic job that I love to ride my bike to or the energy to ride a bike so my bike wouldn't have been stolen. It's an amazing change.
-I have a wonderful boss who'll let me use flex time today to talk to the cops and make my dental appointments.
-I'm stable financially, so while I'd rather use the dental money on a flight...I do have money to fix my tooth and to buy a new bike.
-I have wonderful friends who did everything from tell me they love me without a front tooth, to offer wine on the porch, to understanding that I had to reschedule some things, to joining me for swimming/playing in Barton Springs after my hour of quiet time.
-Places like Barton Springs. In the middle of the city I can find quiet and safe spots at night to sit by the water and think.
-Great lazy days. It was a wonderful day! After working so many days in a row I needed time to just do what I wanted and catch up on chores. Friday night spent it with Ara/Sarah. Saturday: planted a butterfly garden with a group of volunteers, worked a little bit, took a nap, caught up on a bunch of chores, met Friends to watch an outdoor swing competition and drink wine, jumped on a trampoline, danced goofily to Russian music with friends in the living room. Sunday: ran 8 miles, volunteered in a creek for a short time, made myself a lovely sandwich fresh mozzarella/fresh basil/tomato/sea salt/crusty bread/garlic/olive oil, took a loooooong nap, read in bed, was contacted by a close friend from High School who I haven't heard from in years, lay out/swam in Barton Springs.
It really is a lovely life.
At the end of the day I went and laid out by Barton Springs and watched the bats swooping over the water and clouds with lightening roll in. I knew I should be a bit upset, but all my friends think it's comical because when I start talking about it I can't stop laughing and oddly enough after an hour of laying out watching the clouds I felt very thankful. Things to be thankful for:
-A few years ago I would have been too depressed for any of the things to have happened. I wouldn't have been out running 8 miles so I wouldn't have run into the weirdo, I would have been too lethargic to take care of basic hygiene (like flossing) so my tooth would still be there, and there's no way I would have had a fantastic job that I love to ride my bike to or the energy to ride a bike so my bike wouldn't have been stolen. It's an amazing change.
-I have a wonderful boss who'll let me use flex time today to talk to the cops and make my dental appointments.
-I'm stable financially, so while I'd rather use the dental money on a flight...I do have money to fix my tooth and to buy a new bike.
-I have wonderful friends who did everything from tell me they love me without a front tooth, to offer wine on the porch, to understanding that I had to reschedule some things, to joining me for swimming/playing in Barton Springs after my hour of quiet time.
-Places like Barton Springs. In the middle of the city I can find quiet and safe spots at night to sit by the water and think.
-Great lazy days. It was a wonderful day! After working so many days in a row I needed time to just do what I wanted and catch up on chores. Friday night spent it with Ara/Sarah. Saturday: planted a butterfly garden with a group of volunteers, worked a little bit, took a nap, caught up on a bunch of chores, met Friends to watch an outdoor swing competition and drink wine, jumped on a trampoline, danced goofily to Russian music with friends in the living room. Sunday: ran 8 miles, volunteered in a creek for a short time, made myself a lovely sandwich fresh mozzarella/fresh basil/tomato/sea salt/crusty bread/garlic/olive oil, took a loooooong nap, read in bed, was contacted by a close friend from High School who I haven't heard from in years, lay out/swam in Barton Springs.
It really is a lovely life.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Crazy, certifiably nuts, flat out looney
…that’s me. Why do I commit to soooooooo many things? I got an email from a fellow volunteer today and he wrote, “Jessica, even if you WERE triplets, there would not nearly be enough of you to go around. :o)” Why do I do so much?
Today:
-6:30am-7:30am, woke up got ready
-7:30am-8am, rode bike to work
-8am-noon, work
-Noon-12:15pm, walk around Lake Bird Lake
-12:15pm-4pm, work
-4pm-4:30pm, ride bike home
-4:30pm-5:00pm, take check for cedar logs out to McKinney Falls
-5:00pm-5:30pm, go home and grab something to eat
-5:30pm-6:15pm, driving and meeting volunteer at KAB’s Tool Shack
-6:15pm-6:30pm, driving
-6:30pm-7:30pm, answering Friends of McKinney Falls emails about workday on Saturday
-7:30pm-7:45pm, travel home
-7:45pm-8:00pm, change clothes
-8:00pm-8:45pm, tennis
-8:45pm-9pm, travel & changing
-9pm-10pm, swimming at Barton Springs
CRASH
And that doesn’t even go into all the things I’m supposed to get done today at work, and the couple of minutes it took me to write this and vent.
I know a lot of it is temporary because I have a couple of big events the next two weekends, but still….WHY?
Today:
-6:30am-7:30am, woke up got ready
-7:30am-8am, rode bike to work
-8am-noon, work
-Noon-12:15pm, walk around Lake Bird Lake
-12:15pm-4pm, work
-4pm-4:30pm, ride bike home
-4:30pm-5:00pm, take check for cedar logs out to McKinney Falls
-5:00pm-5:30pm, go home and grab something to eat
-5:30pm-6:15pm, driving and meeting volunteer at KAB’s Tool Shack
-6:15pm-6:30pm, driving
-6:30pm-7:30pm, answering Friends of McKinney Falls emails about workday on Saturday
-7:30pm-7:45pm, travel home
-7:45pm-8:00pm, change clothes
-8:00pm-8:45pm, tennis
-8:45pm-9pm, travel & changing
-9pm-10pm, swimming at Barton Springs
CRASH
And that doesn’t even go into all the things I’m supposed to get done today at work, and the couple of minutes it took me to write this and vent.
I know a lot of it is temporary because I have a couple of big events the next two weekends, but still….WHY?
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Agape
I’m a little nervous…
I went to a church school, my Granny and Great Aunt Eleanor played violin every Sunday in their log cabin church, a lot of my children’s books were stories from the bible, but it’s safe to say our family is non-religious. We still have a lot of the stereotypical Christian morals, but I’ve never read the bible and take issue with rich preachers.
However, after a friend’s wedding in June I really started to question my resistance to organized religion. During the ceremony I felt such peace with the rituals and it seems so reassuring to be in a partnership where your romantic partner (and maybe one day parent of your children) has the same grounding beliefs. I started asking friends about their experiences and suggesting religious or soul searching books for our book club, and then two Sundays ago one of my closest friends called to see if I wanted to go listen to gospel music at a church she’d seen an add for on tv.
First red flag-they have enough money to put adds on tv
Second red flag-I accidentally pulled into the designated bishop’s parking area and they like nice cars…lexus, bmw…
We went in anyway, but with our typical guard up and on high alert. The preacher seemed like he was talking directly to us and our private issues. I’ve never had someone cut right to the heart of my experience before, but somehow he did and managed to unite everyone in the shared experience. The music was so uplifting and joyful that we found ourselves singing and dancing along with the rest of the congregation, but my guard was still insurmountable…or so I thought. All of a sudden it was time to introduce yourself to your neighbors. I’ve been to lots of Catholic services and you politely turn to your neighbor and shake their hand or give them one of those pat on the back hugs and say “peace be with you” or something to that means. That’s sweet, but nothing like what we were about to experience. A woman from the row in front of us came back and pulled my friend into a bear hug from which they both emerged grinning and giggly. Then it was my turn and I was enveloped in the most profound hug I’ve ever experienced. I hugged back, but she held on and started swaying back and forth until I relaxed into her and *poof* my insurmountable wall vanished. We came out of our hug with tears in our eyes and smiles on our lips.
Later during “Agape Time” the preacher asked everyone to go to the opposite side of the church to hug people that you didn’t know. They say that getting five hugs a day does wonders to improve health and I believe it.
We went back last night. :)
I went to a church school, my Granny and Great Aunt Eleanor played violin every Sunday in their log cabin church, a lot of my children’s books were stories from the bible, but it’s safe to say our family is non-religious. We still have a lot of the stereotypical Christian morals, but I’ve never read the bible and take issue with rich preachers.
However, after a friend’s wedding in June I really started to question my resistance to organized religion. During the ceremony I felt such peace with the rituals and it seems so reassuring to be in a partnership where your romantic partner (and maybe one day parent of your children) has the same grounding beliefs. I started asking friends about their experiences and suggesting religious or soul searching books for our book club, and then two Sundays ago one of my closest friends called to see if I wanted to go listen to gospel music at a church she’d seen an add for on tv.
First red flag-they have enough money to put adds on tv
Second red flag-I accidentally pulled into the designated bishop’s parking area and they like nice cars…lexus, bmw…
We went in anyway, but with our typical guard up and on high alert. The preacher seemed like he was talking directly to us and our private issues. I’ve never had someone cut right to the heart of my experience before, but somehow he did and managed to unite everyone in the shared experience. The music was so uplifting and joyful that we found ourselves singing and dancing along with the rest of the congregation, but my guard was still insurmountable…or so I thought. All of a sudden it was time to introduce yourself to your neighbors. I’ve been to lots of Catholic services and you politely turn to your neighbor and shake their hand or give them one of those pat on the back hugs and say “peace be with you” or something to that means. That’s sweet, but nothing like what we were about to experience. A woman from the row in front of us came back and pulled my friend into a bear hug from which they both emerged grinning and giggly. Then it was my turn and I was enveloped in the most profound hug I’ve ever experienced. I hugged back, but she held on and started swaying back and forth until I relaxed into her and *poof* my insurmountable wall vanished. We came out of our hug with tears in our eyes and smiles on our lips.
Later during “Agape Time” the preacher asked everyone to go to the opposite side of the church to hug people that you didn’t know. They say that getting five hugs a day does wonders to improve health and I believe it.
We went back last night. :)
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Four Glorious Four!
It’s enough to make me burst into song (think Oliver). My favorite number has always been two, but then four is 2*2 AND 2+2 so that should make it doubly wonderful right? On Saturday I did what is typically my most dreaded task in life and turned it into a glorious (word of the day) occasion...I went shopping for jeans...dum-duh-daah.
Now inspiring music that gradually swells...I fit into size 4 jeans. That’s right 2*2 jeans! I know it is thanks to vanity sizing…there’s no way I’m smaller than I was in high school, but I don’t care. Whoever came up with vanity sizing is a genius…and probably a multi-gazzilion air and I love them...yes love...do you hear that vanity sizing man?
Now inspiring music that gradually swells...I fit into size 4 jeans. That’s right 2*2 jeans! I know it is thanks to vanity sizing…there’s no way I’m smaller than I was in high school, but I don’t care. Whoever came up with vanity sizing is a genius…and probably a multi-gazzilion air and I love them...yes love...do you hear that vanity sizing man?
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Walking on Sunshine
It’s official…I LOVE my life! Not the yeah I had a good day kind of love, but the head over heels, completely twitterpeated, can’t stop grinning goofishly kind of love. I literally feel like I’m walking on clouds, and I have that “Mr. Bluebird’s on my shoulder” song looping through my head. I never knew that was possible. At first I was terrified that I was experiencing an extreme mood swing, which is terrifying because those swings go both ways…..but….after a couple of months it’s kind of becoming a habit.
Let’s look at work. I had the best day at work today.
-Settled in
-had a group pickup supplies for a cleanup of Town Lake
-looked at options for displaying recycled material with Monica
-had a group bring back some tools they’d borrowed and thank us for being so easy to work with
-got asked for advice about the Longhorn Recycle Roundup by Monica (which is really cool because I respect her work and opinons so much and it’s nice to know she thinks the same way)
-went to our Tool Shack to help a group that was returning recycling bins they’d borrowed for the Austin Ice Cream Festival and she said “I’m so excited by all you guys do!”
-took the office recycling by Ecology-Action
-met a new Adopt-a-Creek group at their creek segment (which was out of this world gorgeous for being hidden in a housing subdivision, maidenhair fern, dragonflies, waterfalls…beauuuutiful) -had an entire church youth group cram themselves into our office to thank us for helping them with their cleanup.
How cool is that?! Yeah, yeah…there was also a lot of paper shuffling and answering the same questions again and again, but really…isn’t that a fantabulous day?
Now I’m off for a run with my co-worker, home to grab my bike, cycle to Zilker Park, Blues on the Green/dancing in front of the stage, and then to wrap it all up…night swim at Barton Springs. I’ll be grinning goofishly the whole time.
Let’s look at work. I had the best day at work today.
-Settled in
-had a group pickup supplies for a cleanup of Town Lake
-looked at options for displaying recycled material with Monica
-had a group bring back some tools they’d borrowed and thank us for being so easy to work with
-got asked for advice about the Longhorn Recycle Roundup by Monica (which is really cool because I respect her work and opinons so much and it’s nice to know she thinks the same way)
-went to our Tool Shack to help a group that was returning recycling bins they’d borrowed for the Austin Ice Cream Festival and she said “I’m so excited by all you guys do!”
-took the office recycling by Ecology-Action
-met a new Adopt-a-Creek group at their creek segment (which was out of this world gorgeous for being hidden in a housing subdivision, maidenhair fern, dragonflies, waterfalls…beauuuutiful) -had an entire church youth group cram themselves into our office to thank us for helping them with their cleanup.
How cool is that?! Yeah, yeah…there was also a lot of paper shuffling and answering the same questions again and again, but really…isn’t that a fantabulous day?
Now I’m off for a run with my co-worker, home to grab my bike, cycle to Zilker Park, Blues on the Green/dancing in front of the stage, and then to wrap it all up…night swim at Barton Springs. I’ll be grinning goofishly the whole time.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Manana (with ~ over the 1st n)
is my 87 year old cousin Frank’s favorite word and philosophy. Last night I took a night off (ie I’d already spent 11 hours at work, volunteering, and running errands and then decided to take the night off) to drink wine and watch “So You Think You Can Dance”. Of course, guilt immediately set in…I needed to work out…I still have two boxes of stuff from moving that need to be unpacked…I really should do laundry/write a letter to my grandparents/do more volunteering admin stuff….I mean come one, it’s what a good Northern Irish girl should do.
This is where Frank’s idea of manana and my Dad’s philosophy of “Why put off until tomorrow what could be done today?” crash into each other leaving me wedged between.
Thankfully, the Spanish(?) bottle of wine came to my rescue. (?) because while the bottle claimed that it’s from Spain the writing was in English…odd. Anyway the Spanish bottle proceeded to tell me (in English) that the wine came from Spain where everyone appreciates life and lives each day to the fullest and puts off what can be done the next day until then. Wine obviously can not be put off. So that sealed the deal.
This is where Frank’s idea of manana and my Dad’s philosophy of “Why put off until tomorrow what could be done today?” crash into each other leaving me wedged between.
Thankfully, the Spanish(?) bottle of wine came to my rescue. (?) because while the bottle claimed that it’s from Spain the writing was in English…odd. Anyway the Spanish bottle proceeded to tell me (in English) that the wine came from Spain where everyone appreciates life and lives each day to the fullest and puts off what can be done the next day until then. Wine obviously can not be put off. So that sealed the deal.
I slipped into red wine relaxation and thoroughly enjoyed watching dancing for 2 hours with the only interruption being my mind drifting back to Botswana where they definitely believe in manana. I’m convinced that I’m British in my head and Tswana in my heart.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Faith
Sunday, was the first time I’d ever been with someone when they died. I wish I’d been there for my American grandparents, but the hospital said that I was too young so I had to wait downstairs while the grownups got to say goodbye. They said that when my Pops passed away three tears rolled out of his eyes, one for each grandchild. Maybe if we’d been there he wouldn’t have had to cry because he’d have known that we were with him.
I still can’t believe that Fletcher’s gone. One minute I was holding his hand to try and make it warm again while stroking his hair and the next he stopped breathing. He’d said that he was ready to go, and we told ourselves that we would let him go when it was time but it was still excruciating. They made us leave the room while they tried to revive him until Edna told them they could stop. When they let us back in after cleaning him a bit Edna threw herself on top of her body in the most anguish I’ve ever seen anyone experience. Monday would have been their 55th wedding anniversary. I stayed with Edna while their daughter drove to their son’s house to tell him in person and we kept talking about heaven and how nice it would be for him to see my grandparents, the child they lost when he was only 3 months old, his parents, and all of his friends that went before him….and I wish I knew. I wish I knew deep in my heart that is what happens. That Fletcher really can walk again and that he’s up there telling jokes and watching over us, but I don’t. I don’t know and that’s incredibly painful.
Last night I went to McKinney Falls by myself to ride my bike along the trails and think. I came around a corner and found myself face to face with a lone deer. A young male with new antlers and a fresh coat and we just stared at each other for a long time. He even took a step toward me, but then a hiker came up and startled him. While I was looking into the deer’s eyes I felt peaceful. After my ride I went and swam at the lower falls. I sank to the bottom, held on to a rock, and let the current sway my body. It was so quiet and calm. The only noise was of the current tumbling a few rocks. Floating on the surface I watched birds settle in for the night and the breeze move the delicate leaves of the cypress trees and I wish Fletcher and my grandparents and great aunt and uncle and all the other people I’ve lost could have been there with me.
I still can’t believe that Fletcher’s gone. One minute I was holding his hand to try and make it warm again while stroking his hair and the next he stopped breathing. He’d said that he was ready to go, and we told ourselves that we would let him go when it was time but it was still excruciating. They made us leave the room while they tried to revive him until Edna told them they could stop. When they let us back in after cleaning him a bit Edna threw herself on top of her body in the most anguish I’ve ever seen anyone experience. Monday would have been their 55th wedding anniversary. I stayed with Edna while their daughter drove to their son’s house to tell him in person and we kept talking about heaven and how nice it would be for him to see my grandparents, the child they lost when he was only 3 months old, his parents, and all of his friends that went before him….and I wish I knew. I wish I knew deep in my heart that is what happens. That Fletcher really can walk again and that he’s up there telling jokes and watching over us, but I don’t. I don’t know and that’s incredibly painful.
Last night I went to McKinney Falls by myself to ride my bike along the trails and think. I came around a corner and found myself face to face with a lone deer. A young male with new antlers and a fresh coat and we just stared at each other for a long time. He even took a step toward me, but then a hiker came up and startled him. While I was looking into the deer’s eyes I felt peaceful. After my ride I went and swam at the lower falls. I sank to the bottom, held on to a rock, and let the current sway my body. It was so quiet and calm. The only noise was of the current tumbling a few rocks. Floating on the surface I watched birds settle in for the night and the breeze move the delicate leaves of the cypress trees and I wish Fletcher and my grandparents and great aunt and uncle and all the other people I’ve lost could have been there with me.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Workout Wave of the Future
My arms are killing me! I always thought that playing on rope swings was just downright fun, but I never realized it’s a killer workout too. Such are the joys of mistakenly growing up and then fighting your way back to childhood.
I spent the weekend playing at Krauss Springs just west of Austin and finally got up the nerve to play on the swing.
I spent most of Saturday watching little kids scramble up the large rock to jubilantly throw themselves off into oblivion with the help of a worn piece of rope and happily splash into the water, disappear for a seconds, emerge laughing, and then repeat all over again. That should have drawn me straight to this simply divine invention, but the much heavier and much more awkward splashes of folks from my group turned me into a big chicken. Granted folks from my group had indulged in some vodka before hand (never recommended, but I let it slide since Russians were among us and the water was deep) and one was sporting a bandaged wrist, but still…it looked kind of painful. I had visions of myself stepping off the boulder with thoughts of elegance in my head and instead of effortlessly flying through the air before doing a triple double twist back-flip, my lack of arm muscles would leave me slipping down the rope ending in a very un-elegant belly flop.
Thank goodness for Marisa. Sunday before the crowds had gathered to laugh at my rope swinging skills we headed down to the water to give it a go. On her second try (EVER) on a rope swing she pulled off a half back flip into a dive, legs together, toes pointed, beautiful. Thus, she cemented herself forever more as my personal super hero and beacon of hope for all of us heading towards our 30s and beyond.
My skills leave much to be desired, but I did avoid the dreaded sliding belly flop move that I thought I’d become famous for. I compensated for my lack of any recognizable arm muscles by quickly wrapping my legs around the rope, plunking my body weight on a very hard knot, and hanging on for dear life. Luckily I remembered to let go before I smashed back into the rock. I may not have perfected the back dive (yet), but I can do a mean twist and I got the most important skill down…scrambling back up the rock to give it another go, again and again and again.
I spent the weekend playing at Krauss Springs just west of Austin and finally got up the nerve to play on the swing.
I spent most of Saturday watching little kids scramble up the large rock to jubilantly throw themselves off into oblivion with the help of a worn piece of rope and happily splash into the water, disappear for a seconds, emerge laughing, and then repeat all over again. That should have drawn me straight to this simply divine invention, but the much heavier and much more awkward splashes of folks from my group turned me into a big chicken. Granted folks from my group had indulged in some vodka before hand (never recommended, but I let it slide since Russians were among us and the water was deep) and one was sporting a bandaged wrist, but still…it looked kind of painful. I had visions of myself stepping off the boulder with thoughts of elegance in my head and instead of effortlessly flying through the air before doing a triple double twist back-flip, my lack of arm muscles would leave me slipping down the rope ending in a very un-elegant belly flop.
Thank goodness for Marisa. Sunday before the crowds had gathered to laugh at my rope swinging skills we headed down to the water to give it a go. On her second try (EVER) on a rope swing she pulled off a half back flip into a dive, legs together, toes pointed, beautiful. Thus, she cemented herself forever more as my personal super hero and beacon of hope for all of us heading towards our 30s and beyond.
My skills leave much to be desired, but I did avoid the dreaded sliding belly flop move that I thought I’d become famous for. I compensated for my lack of any recognizable arm muscles by quickly wrapping my legs around the rope, plunking my body weight on a very hard knot, and hanging on for dear life. Luckily I remembered to let go before I smashed back into the rock. I may not have perfected the back dive (yet), but I can do a mean twist and I got the most important skill down…scrambling back up the rock to give it another go, again and again and again.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Broken?
How do you know when something’s really broken? Is there an in-between stage or is it just broken or not? Assuming that there is, is it better to get rid of it when it starts to break or hold on until the end? And why do simple actions turn into big philosophical questions for the Wilson children?
I chipped my coffee cup yesterday. Not a little chip that’s kind of cute, but a big chunk out of the side of the dark blue cup that now reveals a starkly contrasting white inside. I’m convinced that this would be a simple event for anyone else. It’s ugly, throw it away. Instead, for the past two days I keep glancing over at it (carefully placed by the side of my computer so others can’t see its imperfections) wondering if I should do the unthinkable and put it in my trash can. It still holds water, it’s served me faithfully for a year or so, my job is about reducing waste, and yet everything in our culture tells me to throw it away and I’m slightly ashamed of my imperfect coffee cup and then ashamed for being so superficial that an old potentially broken coffee cup embarrasses me. If it was a model it would be Cindy Crawford, but…now she’s over the hill and doing tv commercials for furniture company so what does that tell you?
If I really think of my coffee cup (which shouldn’t even be called a coffee cup because it only ever holds tea, water, and emergen-c) as a person or even a relationship, then the past year would tell me to throw it away. Why keep something around because it’s been around for a while, when we all know that that seemingly harmless chip could turn into a crack and then one day I end up scalded by hot tea and cursing the shards of cup in my lap…better to play it safe and trash it…right? Or is it better to keep the idealistic view that imperfections can be beauty and a sign of strength? Maybe my coffee cup will serve me for years and can become a teaching tool for how we view waste culturally.
For now it’ll continue to peek at me from the edge of the desk until I either get the courage to bring it into full view imperfections and all, or I learn to cut attachments and move forward. Either way the coffee cup probably thinks I’m nuts and after all of this and definitely deserves a name.
I chipped my coffee cup yesterday. Not a little chip that’s kind of cute, but a big chunk out of the side of the dark blue cup that now reveals a starkly contrasting white inside. I’m convinced that this would be a simple event for anyone else. It’s ugly, throw it away. Instead, for the past two days I keep glancing over at it (carefully placed by the side of my computer so others can’t see its imperfections) wondering if I should do the unthinkable and put it in my trash can. It still holds water, it’s served me faithfully for a year or so, my job is about reducing waste, and yet everything in our culture tells me to throw it away and I’m slightly ashamed of my imperfect coffee cup and then ashamed for being so superficial that an old potentially broken coffee cup embarrasses me. If it was a model it would be Cindy Crawford, but…now she’s over the hill and doing tv commercials for furniture company so what does that tell you?
If I really think of my coffee cup (which shouldn’t even be called a coffee cup because it only ever holds tea, water, and emergen-c) as a person or even a relationship, then the past year would tell me to throw it away. Why keep something around because it’s been around for a while, when we all know that that seemingly harmless chip could turn into a crack and then one day I end up scalded by hot tea and cursing the shards of cup in my lap…better to play it safe and trash it…right? Or is it better to keep the idealistic view that imperfections can be beauty and a sign of strength? Maybe my coffee cup will serve me for years and can become a teaching tool for how we view waste culturally.
For now it’ll continue to peek at me from the edge of the desk until I either get the courage to bring it into full view imperfections and all, or I learn to cut attachments and move forward. Either way the coffee cup probably thinks I’m nuts and after all of this and definitely deserves a name.
Friday, July 20, 2007
When I was 25...in no particular order
When I was twenty-five I…
*finally got my drivers license
*bought my first car
*got to live with my little brother and get to know him
*felt how hard it is to be hit by a car
*endured months of physical therapy but came out on top
*learnt to trust my chiropractor enough to let her do that scary-spin-your-head-around-thingy
*really truly began to value a body that works
*saw several friends become beautiful/kind wives and even mothers
*got to hold a new born
*learnt that I’m strong enough to leave a bad relationship
*rediscovered myself
*took swing dancing classes
*tried to buy a house and realized that I’m not ready for that just yet
*discovered that I can spend months organizing thousands of volunteers, have the event postponed due to flooding, and somewhere find the energy to turn it all around and do the entire event 3 weeks later
*danced at a Temptations concert (Otis is an original)
*went to Graceland
*realized that I’d like to have children one day, but only if it’s with the right partner
*ate a hot pink sausage that came in a wrapper with a pig on it, but upon closer inspection was made of beef heart and reprocessed chicken parts (ewww)
*joined the board of directors for Friends of McKinney Falls State Park
*made some amazing new friends and learnt to cherish the classics
*climbed a 14,271 foot mountain
*felt overwhelming gratitude for being alive after making it off of the sand dunes after a lightning/hail storm
*decided that my Daddy really truly is my hero (he covered my body with his during the hail storm and did his best to minimize my hypothermia)
*got to see my brother graduate from UT and become a working architect
*went sledding on pizza pans
*took up running and yoga on a regular basis
*had nude photos taken of myself, not for anyone else, just for me because for the first time I’m comfortable in my skin…and just in case I’m lucky enough to have grandkids one day it’ll be nice to freak them out a bit
*got a beautiful painting “Marion” from my sister
*learnt to make rice with just a pot and lid versus my lovely rice maker
*was invited for the first time to speak at a conference
*fostered a stray dog (Chaca…now Daisy)
*saw Town Lake become a roaring river
*witnessed and played in the greenbelt with lots of flowing water in July
*joined not one but two book clubs
*for the first time in perhaps my entire life became really excited about living and the future.
Who knows what’s in store for me as a 26 year old? If I have anything to say about it (and trust me I do), it’ll involve cliff jumping, climbing Kilimanjaro, learning to play the fiddle and speak Spanish, and completing a triathlon (even if it’s just a sprint). Bring it on!
*finally got my drivers license
*bought my first car
*got to live with my little brother and get to know him
*felt how hard it is to be hit by a car
*endured months of physical therapy but came out on top
*learnt to trust my chiropractor enough to let her do that scary-spin-your-head-around-thingy
*really truly began to value a body that works
*saw several friends become beautiful/kind wives and even mothers
*got to hold a new born
*learnt that I’m strong enough to leave a bad relationship
*rediscovered myself
*took swing dancing classes
*tried to buy a house and realized that I’m not ready for that just yet
*discovered that I can spend months organizing thousands of volunteers, have the event postponed due to flooding, and somewhere find the energy to turn it all around and do the entire event 3 weeks later
*danced at a Temptations concert (Otis is an original)
*went to Graceland
*realized that I’d like to have children one day, but only if it’s with the right partner
*ate a hot pink sausage that came in a wrapper with a pig on it, but upon closer inspection was made of beef heart and reprocessed chicken parts (ewww)
*joined the board of directors for Friends of McKinney Falls State Park
*made some amazing new friends and learnt to cherish the classics
*climbed a 14,271 foot mountain
*felt overwhelming gratitude for being alive after making it off of the sand dunes after a lightning/hail storm
*decided that my Daddy really truly is my hero (he covered my body with his during the hail storm and did his best to minimize my hypothermia)
*got to see my brother graduate from UT and become a working architect
*went sledding on pizza pans
*took up running and yoga on a regular basis
*had nude photos taken of myself, not for anyone else, just for me because for the first time I’m comfortable in my skin…and just in case I’m lucky enough to have grandkids one day it’ll be nice to freak them out a bit
*got a beautiful painting “Marion” from my sister
*learnt to make rice with just a pot and lid versus my lovely rice maker
*was invited for the first time to speak at a conference
*fostered a stray dog (Chaca…now Daisy)
*saw Town Lake become a roaring river
*witnessed and played in the greenbelt with lots of flowing water in July
*joined not one but two book clubs
*for the first time in perhaps my entire life became really excited about living and the future.
Who knows what’s in store for me as a 26 year old? If I have anything to say about it (and trust me I do), it’ll involve cliff jumping, climbing Kilimanjaro, learning to play the fiddle and speak Spanish, and completing a triathlon (even if it’s just a sprint). Bring it on!
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
white rabbits, white rabbits, white mountain goats?
Sunday-July 1st
Don't you love how days of the week suddenly loose their meaning when you're on vacation? It really takes a while to work out what day of the week it is, and then what's the point anyway...to work out how many days it is until you have to know what day of the week you're on?
So it's official, I fall in love easily. I'm head over heels in love with Colorado. Wake up, open the window, and what's that a mountain? Pure serenity.
Having hauled the bikes all the way from TX the only logical thing to do was go out for an early morning ride to discover Silverthorne. As i was about to sneak out, Daddy woke up and decided to join me. Me on my shiny new bike (some good things came out of the accident) and Daddy on my first "grownup" bike that I got when I was 13. So off we went, one of us creaking a bit more than the other. We made it to the top of the Dillon damn wall and rode along the paved path overlooking a smooth lake with rough mountains providing the background.
Once Laura was up we took her off for a MacDonald's breakfast. My first idea with the early morning bike ride was to find a little bakery and surprise everyone with fancy pasteries...oh well. One call to Mommy put us on what would be a more appropriate track, the quest for a MacDonald's breakfast burrito. Once satisfied with savories we took Laura off to look for the little town of Keeney and a break overlooking another lake. We found a bush to provide some shade and watched everyone zipping about on their motorboats.
After lunch, Daddy let me pick a hike so up to the Continental Divide we went. The drive was terrifying for someone who hates heights and more so because Daddy was fascinated by everything around him except the road in front. :)
Don't you love how days of the week suddenly loose their meaning when you're on vacation? It really takes a while to work out what day of the week it is, and then what's the point anyway...to work out how many days it is until you have to know what day of the week you're on?
So it's official, I fall in love easily. I'm head over heels in love with Colorado. Wake up, open the window, and what's that a mountain? Pure serenity.
Having hauled the bikes all the way from TX the only logical thing to do was go out for an early morning ride to discover Silverthorne. As i was about to sneak out, Daddy woke up and decided to join me. Me on my shiny new bike (some good things came out of the accident) and Daddy on my first "grownup" bike that I got when I was 13. So off we went, one of us creaking a bit more than the other. We made it to the top of the Dillon damn wall and rode along the paved path overlooking a smooth lake with rough mountains providing the background.
Once Laura was up we took her off for a MacDonald's breakfast. My first idea with the early morning bike ride was to find a little bakery and surprise everyone with fancy pasteries...oh well. One call to Mommy put us on what would be a more appropriate track, the quest for a MacDonald's breakfast burrito. Once satisfied with savories we took Laura off to look for the little town of Keeney and a break overlooking another lake. We found a bush to provide some shade and watched everyone zipping about on their motorboats.
After lunch, Daddy let me pick a hike so up to the Continental Divide we went. The drive was terrifying for someone who hates heights and more so because Daddy was fascinated by everything around him except the road in front. :)
Monday, July 2, 2007
4th of July road trip...how American (I mean USAn)
My co-workers look at me like I'm daft, but I'd really rather take a road trip than spend a weekend in Vegas...Cabo might be a different story. Seeing as I'm homeless for a couple of weeks I did what any logical twenty something would do, decided to go on a road trip. To make it even better my Daddy (who's commonly mistaken for Crocodile Dundee or Indiana Jones) came with me.
Friday, June 29
Left work early and rushed back to meet Daddy, and hopefully beat Austin traffic leaving town. We were in luck and drove for what seemed like forever. Quiet, simple, just driving. We were supposed to spend the night in the parking lot of a truck stop in Lubbok, but we pushed on into the night and crashed at an equally lovely gas station in Amarillo. The last time I spent the night in a car there were four of us, so having an ENTIRE back seat to myself was luxury.
Saturday, June 30
6:30am and time to set off. Daddy took the first shift of driving, and as I stared out the window with red eyes I noticed a river that was just as red. Now, if I comment to most people about how much fun it would be to take an early morning swim in a red river they'd laugh politely and drive on. Thank goodness I was with a Wilson...for those of you who haven't been around us in a while...we're a different breed. Daddy promptly did a U turn, left the road, and let me wade in the tomato soup with the sun still low in the sky and the various textures of sediment squishy through my toes. While he searched for his trunks in the boot, I took my bike off to explore the red sand dunes. When I came back the professional folks were unloading the atv's. At least it made me feel a bit better that I'd had so much trouble peddling up the red sand dunes in my bare feet...come to think of it, they're just woosies. I positioned myself strategically behind the car and wiggled into my swim suit too. Then it was time to swim in the soup. Refreshing, goofy, and fake tan inducing, aka fabulous. We reluctantly left the Canadian river and went down the road.
Hay stacks! Not the large round bales that we used to hop on at the chicken farm or the small square bales that we used to build forts out of and stack in the barn, but square bales on steroids. Better than that, they were stacked on top of each other into huge walls that just seem to be crying out for someone to shoot a cannon at it and play fort. Bless Daddy because he's flexible enough to deviate from his schedule and let his 25 year old "little" girl go play in the hay. Man was I lot stronger when I was 10. I'm still just as stubborn though and with the twine cutting into my fingers I hauled myself onto the top of the fortress and ran down the ridge, which evoked a few honks from the highway. Somehow I made it back down too, which is always much scarier.
Dramatic hills rising out of the plains was my next fascination, so up we went. Car pulled onto the grass, flip flops thrown on, and up the cactus covered hill we went with pronghorn antelope scattering before us. At the top we were rewarded with breathtaking views, which was very fortunate because we needed all the breath we could get. Butterflies feasting on nectar and a male pronghorn barking out a warning below us. On the way down we woke a startled coyote from his afternoon nap and he relunctantly made his way to the top of the hill and posed proudly on a large rock. With a lot of luck and some careful footwork I made it to the bottom with only a few holes in my feet. When we got back to the car one of the bikes was pulled off, but thankfully still locked to the other bike and the bike rack. Looks like we foiled someone.
I'm not a fan of interstates, so in Pueblo we left the big road and headed NW on Hwy 9. A brilliant choice on my part I think. We stopped off at Royal Gorge, but quickly decided that it was Colorado's version of Disney Land, complete with ques. The rest of the drive was spectacular as we gradually climbed into the mountains passing now isolated communities. Looking at a creek on the left I saw what looked like a beaver dam, but it couldn't be could it...could it? Only one way to find out, time to stop the car again. It was a beaver damn and lodge. No sign of the actual beaver, but loads of nawed logs. Nature really is incredible. Later we passed a heard of bison grazing on the plains. Over one large pass, past Dillon resevoir, and we found Laura in Silverthorne.
We just made it to the destination, but would I trade in the journey if someone offered me a private flight? NEVER! (Well maybe when I hit my 30s)
Friday, June 29
Left work early and rushed back to meet Daddy, and hopefully beat Austin traffic leaving town. We were in luck and drove for what seemed like forever. Quiet, simple, just driving. We were supposed to spend the night in the parking lot of a truck stop in Lubbok, but we pushed on into the night and crashed at an equally lovely gas station in Amarillo. The last time I spent the night in a car there were four of us, so having an ENTIRE back seat to myself was luxury.
Saturday, June 30
6:30am and time to set off. Daddy took the first shift of driving, and as I stared out the window with red eyes I noticed a river that was just as red. Now, if I comment to most people about how much fun it would be to take an early morning swim in a red river they'd laugh politely and drive on. Thank goodness I was with a Wilson...for those of you who haven't been around us in a while...we're a different breed. Daddy promptly did a U turn, left the road, and let me wade in the tomato soup with the sun still low in the sky and the various textures of sediment squishy through my toes. While he searched for his trunks in the boot, I took my bike off to explore the red sand dunes. When I came back the professional folks were unloading the atv's. At least it made me feel a bit better that I'd had so much trouble peddling up the red sand dunes in my bare feet...come to think of it, they're just woosies. I positioned myself strategically behind the car and wiggled into my swim suit too. Then it was time to swim in the soup. Refreshing, goofy, and fake tan inducing, aka fabulous. We reluctantly left the Canadian river and went down the road.
Hay stacks! Not the large round bales that we used to hop on at the chicken farm or the small square bales that we used to build forts out of and stack in the barn, but square bales on steroids. Better than that, they were stacked on top of each other into huge walls that just seem to be crying out for someone to shoot a cannon at it and play fort. Bless Daddy because he's flexible enough to deviate from his schedule and let his 25 year old "little" girl go play in the hay. Man was I lot stronger when I was 10. I'm still just as stubborn though and with the twine cutting into my fingers I hauled myself onto the top of the fortress and ran down the ridge, which evoked a few honks from the highway. Somehow I made it back down too, which is always much scarier.
Dramatic hills rising out of the plains was my next fascination, so up we went. Car pulled onto the grass, flip flops thrown on, and up the cactus covered hill we went with pronghorn antelope scattering before us. At the top we were rewarded with breathtaking views, which was very fortunate because we needed all the breath we could get. Butterflies feasting on nectar and a male pronghorn barking out a warning below us. On the way down we woke a startled coyote from his afternoon nap and he relunctantly made his way to the top of the hill and posed proudly on a large rock. With a lot of luck and some careful footwork I made it to the bottom with only a few holes in my feet. When we got back to the car one of the bikes was pulled off, but thankfully still locked to the other bike and the bike rack. Looks like we foiled someone.
I'm not a fan of interstates, so in Pueblo we left the big road and headed NW on Hwy 9. A brilliant choice on my part I think. We stopped off at Royal Gorge, but quickly decided that it was Colorado's version of Disney Land, complete with ques. The rest of the drive was spectacular as we gradually climbed into the mountains passing now isolated communities. Looking at a creek on the left I saw what looked like a beaver dam, but it couldn't be could it...could it? Only one way to find out, time to stop the car again. It was a beaver damn and lodge. No sign of the actual beaver, but loads of nawed logs. Nature really is incredible. Later we passed a heard of bison grazing on the plains. Over one large pass, past Dillon resevoir, and we found Laura in Silverthorne.
We just made it to the destination, but would I trade in the journey if someone offered me a private flight? NEVER! (Well maybe when I hit my 30s)
Missed Me
Ever look around and realize that you don't exist? Over the last three years I lost myself, and not in an exciting lost in the wilderness way...more the boring caught up in an endless cycle lost. Suddenly I looked around and realized that I missed me. Worse than that, I wasn't sure who me was anymore. Good news though, it turns out I'm still here.
The past couple of weeks I've realized how much fun it is to be alive and to do things that I love. dancing, spending time with girlfriends, night swim at Barton Springs, and traveling For the first time in a while I'm free. I'm not going crazy in a drinking all night and going home with any guy kind of way...I'm going crazy with working out, taking classes, and rediscovering that I enjoy life.
It's brilliant, simply brilliant, and for those who always told me that one day it would all be worth it and happiness was possible...thank you.
The past couple of weeks I've realized how much fun it is to be alive and to do things that I love. dancing, spending time with girlfriends, night swim at Barton Springs, and traveling For the first time in a while I'm free. I'm not going crazy in a drinking all night and going home with any guy kind of way...I'm going crazy with working out, taking classes, and rediscovering that I enjoy life.
It's brilliant, simply brilliant, and for those who always told me that one day it would all be worth it and happiness was possible...thank you.
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