Kids & Dreams

Sometimes I like chick tv. The Bachelor? Not so much. But So You Think You Can Dance? Love it. I usually can't remember what day it comes on, but I'm glued to the tv when I find it. I could totally do without the fluff and some of the slow stuff though. 


Anyway, my friend T and I went to a live show when they toured near Dallas a few seasons ago. The set up was a little cheesy, and not sure why I thought the hostess would actually be there, but the performances were awesome. And, the people watching? Even better. We sat next to a married couple, and the guy knew every dance. Not the wife, the husband.  And he cried several times. Sure, guys can be sensitive and emotional. But I think there's a closet somewhere with his name on it.  


And there was a mom and daughter sitting in front of us.  The daughter ~ probably middle-school aged at most ~ went on and on about how beautiful the dancers were, how she wanted to be like Lauren (that season's winner), how she wanted to dance, on and on and on. Finally, during the intermission, the mom looked at her doe-eyed daughter and matter-of-factly said, "It's too much work. You can't do that."  


T and I just looked at each other, stunned. The girl looked so crushed, I wanted to reach out and give her a hug and some words of encouragement. I waited for the mom to say something, anything else, but she never did. The girl sat through the rest of the performance like an icicle -- still, cold, unexcited. 


I couldn't believe it. Sure, the chances of her actually becoming a professional dancer are probably slim to none, but somebody has to be, so why not her? Why not encourage her to be excited about dance, an artform that celebrates the beauty of the body, that relies on being healthy and strong, that communicates a message of strength and grace to those watching? Why not get her excited about something that could help her through the awkward teen years, give her meaning in life, help her avoid the pitfalls so many fall into. Why not use it as leverage to keep her grades up, as an extracurricular to keep her busy and a means into college?  What is SO important in her life that she doesn't have room for a dream?  


I made a vow that day to never cause that pain in my child. Sure, if Baby decides that picking gum off the sidewalk is his dream in life, I may have to re-direct him. But I hope I never cause the hurt I saw in that little girl's eyes. Far-fetched dreams are better than none at all, right?

Case of the Mondays ... er, Tuesdays

For some reason, today feels like Monday. Maybe it's because I didn't get anything accomplished yesterday. Maybe it's because I'm getting a little bored in my job, and all the days seem like a "blah" day.

I'm trying sooo hard not to get burnt out at work. I couldn't ask for anything more -- great pay, flexible schedule, cool boss. But is that enough? Here lately, I've been craving something new, something more creative, something that might make a difference is this ginormous world.

Right now I'm supposed to be creating a 12-hour training class. But, instead, I'm sitting on the comfy leather couch at Legacy Books, sipping on a cold Diet Coke and blogging. Because I just can't find the darn motivation to get crackin' on my presentation. Seems like the story of my life here lately.

I've been at this job for almost two years now -- which is amazing considering I usually change jobs like I change shoes. Guess I'm just itching for something different.

But what?

Cheers to a New Year

"New Year's Resolution: To tolerate fools more gladly, provided this does not encourage them to take up more of my time." ~ James Agate

Well, folks, it's 2009. A new year, a new post and, of course, new resolutions. Despite my best efforts to talk J into driving to Shreveport last night -- I enjoy a little spontaneity; J, however, cringes -- we opted for a quiet dinner out on the town square, followed by a rampage through nearby neighborhoods to take photos with strangers' lawn decorations.

Not really sure who came up with the idea, but we now have a dozen or so photos of us with random lighted snowmen and blow-up Santas. We did exert a smidge of class: Nativity scenes and angels were off limits. For future reference, New Years Eve isn't the best night for this kind of behavior as several of the houses were in the midst of NYE parties ...

Moving along to resolutions. I think it's fun to set goals for yourself and think about new opportunities for a fresh year. Let's see how many I can actually accomplish:

1. Stick to my running schedule. My marathon is three months away -- I need to kick the laziness to the curb and train harder.
2. Drink more water. That means cutting out the 5 diet sodas I drink every day that my doc says is the root of my continuous belly ache.
3. Get out of debt. This should actually be number one for '09, but it's the least fun, I think. But, if we stay on track, we should be in good position by summer.
4. Travel. Travel. Travel. But, just depends on how 3 goes. Puerto Rico may be in the works for early this year, and we definitely want to go snowboarding.
5. De-clutter! This goes for the closets, the garage and life in general.
6. Stretch my brain. Never stop learning or cease to grow -- it's the key to longevity.
7. Create new adventures. I spend more time worrying and over-thinking when I could be experiencing something new and amazing. Just get out there and do it -- worry about the bruises later.
8. Spend more time with the ones that keep me grounded. Make time for happy hours, pokeno nights, late-night chats, laughter, tears and everything in between.
9. Volunteer. That goes for my time, my things, my mind. Team-In-Training has been one of the most amazing things I've done, and I hope to stick with them for years to come.
10. Did someone say "baby"? Yeah, so I think this is the year we'll start trying. After my marathon, of course!

Other than that, I just want to "keep on keepin' on" (come on, from Joe Dirt). Anyway, I hope everyone has a blessed 2009. It'll only be as good as you allow it to be!

A Whole Latte Luxury

“The car has become a secular sanctuary for the individual, his shrine to the self, his mobile Walden Pond” ~ Edward McDonagh


The cars sitting outside Starbucks this morning: new Mercedes, BMW convertible, Nissan Z, Hummer H2, Audi, Corvette ... and J's old Ford pickup that I decided to drive today.

Let's consider the "Latte Factor" here -- even if I saved the six bucks I spent at Starbucks this morning and stashed it in a high-interest account over the course of my lifetime, not really sure I'd ever reach the caliber of the other vehicles in the parking lot.

But would I even want to?* Sure, expensive cars are beautiful in their own right. J and I are looking to buy a new SUV in the near future, so we test drove a completely decked out Yukon Denali last month -- it's okay to dream. Because everyone is desperate to sell SUVs right now, the dealership let us take it home for the weekend. After crunching the numbers we had no real intention of purchasing it, but we thought what the heck, let's take the darling home.

I melted into the ebony leather seats, cruising around with the sun roof open, the satellite radio blasting some funky urban jazz. It winked at me from the driveway every time I looked out the window. It purred as I ran my hand down it's Birch Metallic and chrome body. I felt dirty driving it, and it's overzealous V8 roared as I accelerated at stoplights, turning heads. That's right boys, look at me.

So ruggedly sexy, I thought. But that annoying little voice inside my head began to buzz and reality (eventually) set in. No, I don't really need fancy GPS, heated leather seats, third row seating, DVD player and $55k worth of gas-guzzling bells and whistles. I just need something to haul the dogs, future kids and flowers from Home Depot.

But it sure is nice to dream.


*Kudos to those of you who are able to have expensive things. Adopt me. Seriously.

ChapStick Kisses

"Never a lip is curved with pain, that can't be kissed into smile again." ~ Brete Harte

I had another bad dream last night. It wasn't exactly a demons and dragons nightmare like the night before –- in fact, it's hard to remember what it was about exactly, swirling more around real life than fantasy. I awoke a little before 3, tangled in the down comforter, sweating, the little hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I blinked a couple of times to get my bearings. I'm okay. I'm okay. "I'm okay."

The moonlight cast awkward shadows around the room, and I could make out hubby's silhouette lying next to me. I could hear the dogs rhythmic snoring from their spot underneath the bedroom windows. All the comforts of a peaceful night's slumber, yet I couldn't shake the creepy feeling.

I rolled over and made a long reach for my ChapStick on the nightstand, not wanting to remove myself from the safety of the covers any more than necessary. I began slathering on the lip balm as a soothing defense against whatever eerie feelings were lingering.

Already feeling better, I sense hubby's hand enclose around mine as he asks if I'm okay. "Just a dream," I whisper. Our noses touch as he leans in to kiss my forehead, then cheek, his lips making a last stop softly against mine. "Mmm, ChapStick kisses," he laughs. I smile into the darkness.

It's amazing how it's always the little things that chase away the monsters.