Back in the Dark Ages when I was in high school, I played volleyball. Not well, but I tried. In the 1970’s, girls’ athletics was not quite as competitive as it is today and being 5’12” (as I used to call myself) didn’t hurt my chances of making the cut either.
Generally on any team, you have to communicate with each other. Specifically in volleyball, if you don’t communicate with your teammates, you might plow into each other, which would defeat the purpose of getting the ball over the net. When the ball comes your way, you have to send the message, “I’ve got this, so you don’t have to, but be ready because it might be coming your way next.”
As that tends to be a bit wordy, it is condensed into simply:
“MINE!” Continue reading “MINE!”
I grew up on the edge of a large Midwest city (Indianapolis). My graduating class in high school was over 700, and I attended the main campus of a Big Ten university immediately thereafter. I have been to visit my daughters on both coast in L.A. and the Big Apple, and accompanied my husband’s small college on a trip to London several years ago.
All this to say, crowds don’t bother me.
It’s not that prefer them; I don’t. In fact, I’m writing this on my somewhat secluded patio in my comparatively sleepy small town with my quiet mutt on the pavestones as the birds sing around me. Yes, in a way, I’m hiding. Intentionally. Is that so bad?
But I’m quite adept at hiding in a crowd also. I really like not
Continue reading “Why stay hidden?”
Well, it’s actually happened. I’ve turned yet another corner in parenthood.
Here in our small Midwest town we are superiorly blessed to have, not one, but several very nice second-hand shops. I’m a true re-purposed human being, (even my dog is a rescue), so my children were likewise brought up in this frugal practice.
Recently, my eldest called from the West coast, where prices are not q-u-i-t-e as judicious has here at home, and wondered if I could look for a few things, including jeans. But not just any style. She was specifically requesting—are you ready?? (I just so love this!)—“MOM” jeans. Yes! High-waisted, the kind I used be to chided for a decade or two ago. Continue reading “Mom jeans, and other fashion faux pas’”