Just the Two of Us

You would think that, as long as I have been alive, I should know that life is full of surprises. With all those surprises life is bursting out the seams with, I should know that a few are bound to come my way. All too often, I forget.

Last week my aunt called me to tell me that the wee one was heading to Zimbabwe to live for a while. Oh, and he was leaving in a week. From the way I felt about not being able to see or at least chat with him at least once a week, I knew that this was an unbelievably difficult and painful decision for her. The wee one is sunshine. I could say he is cute and charming and funny and fun and kind and well-behaved and sweet and clever and I would still have hundreds more words to describe him. Even after going through the list (if it ever came to an end) I may still not be able to properly convey how having him in my life, in our lives, affects us. He opens our eyes and our hearts in new and unimagined ways; he makes us want to go out and explore and imagine and enjoy the world; he never fails to surprise us. And now he was off to take his sunshine to our family in Zimbabwe. Lucky them.

So, last week, I got to see him and his mom quite often but Friday came way too soon for us. Off we were to the airport, with lots of bags and a heavy sadness to boot. As we were waiting for the airline attendant to check in all the luggage, the wee one and I decided to play around with the camera and silly faces. He really is just the best thing ever.

Is this what Shakespeare meant when he spoke of the "sweet sorrow" of parting? I knew that he will have an incredibly time in Zimbabwe - what with all the space he will have to run around and all the family he will have to play with - but I am sad that he had to go so far away.

My Own Darn Band!

I am sure I have mentioned before that I, pretty regularly, take a 6:30 a.m. yoga class. I was there this morning and so was another woman, who chose to set up right behind me. I was given the most fascinating vantage point - as I looked in the mirror, there she was. And, just in case I missed her, she wore a bright pink top. What a show I was rewarded to. I had an idea that things might get interesting when she insisted on controlling the window that the teacher tried to close. But how interesting? I had no idea.

Class started and, as we began our breathing exercises, she began adjusting the many necklaces that she was wearing. When she was done with that, I thought she might join us. No. She clasped her hands together and proceeded to look around the room. Next set? Same thing. We then moved on to the preliminary stretches and by "we" I mean everyone but her. She looked more like she was getting ready for the 100 metre dash, as she exhaled loudly and spent a couple of seconds reaching up in the air. Then she sat.

And so the class continued. At times she would rise as though to join us but she would instead do whatever she felt like doing. I wondered if perhaps she was hard of hearing but wouldn't she notice that everyone else was doing something different? When she sat, she would sit cross-legged for a few seconds, appearing as though she was about to meditate, her fingers in that meditative thumb-forefinger thing. But that would last, at most, ten seconds and she would be fidgeting again. The hair, the jewellery, the bright pink top. Anything but what was going on in class.

The teacher was lost for words. At first she tried to offer suggestions to improve the pose but, once she realised that our pink lady was doing her own thing, she gave up and let it go. Finally, towards the end of class as the groans became especially loud, the teacher suggested that the student leave since she appeared to be studying. The pink lady graciously declined the offer and groaned her way to the very end.

I want to say, thank you Pink Lady. Thank you for almost completely taking my mind off the usually very trying class. Instead of thinking about how I could take a nap mid-pose, I was was absolutely baffled. Now only were you marching to a different drummer, you had a whole darn band playing some crazy free form tunes! And to that I say - Cheers!

Well, Let Me Tell You!

I am a regular working stiff. My Monday to Friday is made up of my spending around fifty hours in the office, another eight or so commuting to and from work and, let's say about thirty hours sleeping. All this means that I spend more time with my coworkers than with anyone else in my existence. That's a lot of interaction and leads to various questions about what lines are appropriate to cross in these here relationships.

And as I sit wondering where those lines should be, my coworkers happily dance across them and pull me over with them. I, for instance, know way more about their body functions than anyone who is not their proctologist or gastroenterologist should. There is the coworker who likes to come by to share how much better she feels because she just moved her bowels. She sighs contentedly, while I make a mental note to avoid the bathroom for the next 20 or so minutes. I guess she is being servicey. Others share their stories of post hot-wings intestinal activities. At least the tales entertain, though I feel sorry for the now traumatised third parties who were caught in the crossfire.

From all I know about what is going on with these folk, you would think that I worked in a medical office as some kind of inner-body experience therapist. Hmmm... perhaps it is a niche career calling my name. But then again, that really does sound, literally, like a crappy job.

No Friends

I came across the story related to the photo above and I still can't figure out who is the person with no friends - is it the model on the cover of the magazine or the editors who let this happen? They say "there's one born every minute" with respect to fools, but it was when I saw this that I realised that with all the fools that have been born, it is more and more likely that a bunch of them will end up in one room with not one thinking person to say  - STOP IT NOW!

Someone thought it would be a good idea to create and image with a pale-skinned model surrounded by dark-skinned models. That was a bit silly but could have been taken in many ways. However, the fools decided to take any ambiguity out of the equation by putting the caption at the bottom of the screen "Stepping Out of the Shadows". Oh, so that's what those dark things are... shadows. And when she was asked, the model insisted that this was merely about coming of age (because we have all stepped out from among dark shadow-women when coming of age) and that everything was okay because the models were not all black folk - some were Filipinas who had been painted black. So you see, it's all okay. And for those of you wanting to say otherwise, you tell me what your shadows looked like when you stepped out of them at your coming-of-age moment.

The Skip They Do...

Double dutch? That's my dream! Ever since I was a preteen, I have wanted to learn how to. I first knew of it through a Malcolm McLaren song, aptly titled "Double Dutch." I fell in love at first sight. It looked like so much fun. I would jump away and try little tricks, imagining two friends spinning the ropes around and around. In my mind I was a champ! It was so much fund and, from that moment on, I dreamt of learning how to double dutch with actual ropes.

Last year, Hidef and I went to New Orleans for Jazz Fest and one of the features was a children's tent. I noticed on the agenda - Double Dutch! "Do you think they'll let the audience jump?" I asked Hidef, barely able to contain my excitement. There was only one way to find out. We headed to the tent, at the appointed time, and I sat on the grass, along with children a fraction of my age. What a fun show it was - a mix of teens and preteens turned their ropes and performed routines for us. I was clapping and yelling the whole time. The show ended and the jumping troupe announced that audience members were welcome to come up and try jumping the ropes. They did not have to ask me twice. I hesitated for a second only because I did not want to take space from little kids but, even though I was towards the back of the line, I got my turn. Do you see me? I was glowing for the rest of the week just from the few seconds I was able to successfully double dutch.

If I have a resolution for this year and every other year to come it is to do this as often as I can! The skip I do's the double dutch, that's me dancing!