My daughter recently competed in her first indoor rock climbing competition, thereby proving once again that my kids are infinitely more badass than I. Climbing is a great sport, full of great people. Climbing, like any sport, selects for participants who have the characteristics to enjoy it. In this case: independence, perseverance, focus, and not necessarily fearlessness, but the willingness to "feel the fear and do it anyway" which I find so very baffling.
Sunday, July 13, 2014
Saturday, July 12, 2014
The only thing that scares me more than the thought of drowning is the thought of my kids drowning. Which I picture a thousand times, in graphic detail, every time they set foot near the ocean. I can see the waves knocking them over, snapping their little spines, their eye wide in terror as the water closes over them, while I fight and struggle through the undertow to try to reach them, but never in time....And then I hear one of them shriek, and I wrench my focus back to reality, only to see her splashing happily, throwing herself into wave after wave, spluttering out the salt water, oblivious to my fear.
Here's the weird thing: I am a really good swimmer.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
When things are going well, I exercise a lot.
When I exercise a lot, things go well.
These are not mere coincidences. When things are going well, I exercise a lot, and I feel great, which means I look at least halfway decent (or, as I now hear so often “good for my age”*) and people sometimes say to me, admiringly, “Wow. You exercise a lot. You must really enjoy it.”
Heh. No. I do not “enjoy” exercise.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
I've spent the past few weeks in a master class in tribe-building. It coincided with the Holidays, and as much as I love the Norman Rockwell fantasy Holidays that glow softly through the frost-covered windows of my equally fantasy home, in reality the Holidays always entail hyperventilating, and cursing, and credit cards. This year was particularly bad.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
I finally caved and bought a pair of Vibram "Five Fingers" shoes. Specifically, these ones. I blame my friend Sam. It was her constant goading about how they are the most comfortable shoes she's ever owned that got me tempted. I am a big fan of comfortable shoes, but even I wasn't sure I could clear the ugly hurdle on these ones.
Monday, December 9, 2013
OK, that’s sort of misleading. I have two kids. I’ve been married twice. Obviously, I escaped long ago.
But as a mother of adolescent daughters and an unofficial counselor (however undeserving of the honor) to a handful of young people misguided enough to listen to me, I have to come clean:
I reject the Virginity Cult.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
I have big, strong hands. So does my brother. We get them from Dad, who was always a smallish guy, but had these powerful bear hands. When I had a pre-employment physical done a year ago. It included a hand-strength test. The nurse made me repeat it twice before accepting the results. “Your hand strength is over twice the average for a woman your age,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” I suppose I should be self-conscious (“Women with big hands make for insecure men,” an ex-lover once told me), but I’m not. I knit; I garden; I write; I cook. I cradle my loved ones in my broad palms, twine the world through my long fingers, and squeeze the juice out of life with my freakishly powerful grip. Above all, I cling.