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November 2020

October 2020

Change 2020

For all of those I see standing in lines blocks long for hours and hours to get their votes in early, I want to let you know you moved my heart. I'm imagining most of you are voting for change, for the rediscovery of a road to healing and recovery and the democratic ideal. I sat down and cried for the bravery, the courage, the strength, and the love you have and believe in.
When my husband and I voted yesterday, i felt you all standing with us.
Years ago, when my in-laws were alive, retired, and living in Raleigh, North Carolina, we had a plan for the girls to camp out in their big RV that they always used to visit us and kept in their driveway; they were so excited about "camping out." I was pregnant with one of the girls (in truth, I hardly remember not being pregnant back in the day), and we adults would be right inside the house nearby. However, after dark, when we were still all in the house having dinner, the doorbell rang. My father-in-law answered and we heard, "What?" Peter rushed over, Mimi ((his mom) and I also went over to see something smoking on the doorstep. We made the girls stay in the dining room. Some "brave" soul left a smoke bomb on my elder in-laws' step. I knew why it was there. My husband knew why it was there. My husband is White-American; his father's ancestry goes back to Norway and his mother's to Britain. (Actually, I have traces from those two places as well, not so surprisingly.) I'm Black-American. It was interesting to see our process in deciding whether or not to call the police. I wanted to just leave, to go back home to Colorado, that instant; the girls would definitely not be staying in the camper. There was doubt about calling the police--whose side would they be on? And now? Over three decades later, the question is the same.

Voting (2)

Let's Go--or Not

Well, I haven't been here in a minute! But a quick thought: A pandemic will take you back to many places you've not been for a while:  alone; anywhere public while trying to avoid inhaling--or exhaling; driving out to shop and realizing you can really only go back home; going to a play, movie, restaurant, book club or bookshops; sewing class, museum lecture, swimming pool; and basically, I just can't casually go anywhere with...people. Film and book festivals, gardening classes, visiting my children. And I miss it all.


PiYo, PiYo, It's Off to Rest I Go

Okay, this is bad. I've not posted a blog for over a year. Every day is a new day to do better.
So let me start with PiYo. PiYo is a gym class I visited with my daughter. Clues that I may have made a mistake: my daughter(s) are more than two decades younger than I am. I need to remember this. Then a comment by my husband seemed to be a warning. Peter is always supportive of any project, effort, interest I have and even my procrastination with all of it. His words were: "That class Asha was telling me about? Are you sure?" Hmmm.
I reminded him that I do great with Gentle Yoga (perhaps an embedded clue was there) and Barre (for all of us ballet-dancer wannabes) and Body Pump (weights are good for osteoporosis for crying out loud). Also, a Pilates class I had taken last year was wonderful; the class was just too expensive, and, well, who can't do a class with all those straps to hold onto?
My daughter had my spot all ready. Unfortunately, I was a minute or two late because I was in the wrong room looking for and texting her that I couldn't find her among the fifty people in there! I had my water bottle, my outfit (yoga pants and sleeveless tank), my yoga-socks (because bare feet just never seems right), my towel, and most importantly, my asthma inhaler.
Asha is smiling, the instructor is smiling, then the music begins. I felt like 15 minutes went by before I could figure out the first move...and it stayed that way for the next 50 minutes. Pilates is an exercise program to develop a body's strength and endurance. Yoga is also for strengthening the body through stretching poses and relaxation. They're made for each other. But maybe not made for this 65-year-old, out-of-shape grandmother who didn't take some time to build up slowly.  

And then again...I like relaxing. I like sitting and reading or sewing or movies. Maybe because the good part is the sitting. That's awful to say; here's the thing:  exercise is good for me, I need it, I want to love it. Maybe tomorrow.