Who else would go on a fitness retreat and get sick?
Actually, the woman who organized it got a bad cold. After buying food for 20 people for five days, making sleeping arrangements, bringing your husband and child, and, by the way, planning for 18 practitioners, it seems very logical that she did get sick.
In spite of running a fever, losing my appetite (I've GOT to be ill), and sleeping a good part of yesterday, I had a very good time.
I learned more about reiki, got some really good nutrition tips, and had a fabulous reflexologist diagnose what was wrong with me through massaging my feet (and a very interesting guy, to boot, as it were).
I met some folks I never would have run into otherwise.
And I learned that our perspectives on spirituality and health and relationships might be different, but that we can share friendship, and compassion, and laughter.
I' m hoping to be invited back next year!
vendredi, janvier 30, 2009
lundi, janvier 26, 2009
Gradual changes
The revelations, and the questions, began even before we were in the car.
Mom, asked the DQ, when I'm allowed to date, can I date a guy with a pierced lip? She showed me the picture of a boy with so much hair that frankly I couldn't see his lips. Pierced lips are very low down on my potential list of problems -- sure, I said. After all, I'd just denied her, for about the twentieth time since yesterday, a Facebook account.
As it turned out, my Mr. C knew more about dating than he had let on to his parents. His fifth grade class has a custom called "zapping." Someone writes a time on the back of your hand. Then they write a boy or girls name on the inside. At that time, you have to ask that person out.
Simple...only apparently they try to put the name of a person that you don't really like on the inside. "And they always say no," said Mr. C. "I don't get it."
Then the truly amazing bit--last summer at camp, which he had attended for only a week, a girl asked him out to a dance. And he went, dressed in the jeans and baseball hat he had brought (not knowing that perhaps a tux might be better).
She didn't write me back when I wrote her, he said matter of factly. But she told me she'll be at the same session next year...
Mom, asked the DQ, when I'm allowed to date, can I date a guy with a pierced lip? She showed me the picture of a boy with so much hair that frankly I couldn't see his lips. Pierced lips are very low down on my potential list of problems -- sure, I said. After all, I'd just denied her, for about the twentieth time since yesterday, a Facebook account.
As it turned out, my Mr. C knew more about dating than he had let on to his parents. His fifth grade class has a custom called "zapping." Someone writes a time on the back of your hand. Then they write a boy or girls name on the inside. At that time, you have to ask that person out.
Simple...only apparently they try to put the name of a person that you don't really like on the inside. "And they always say no," said Mr. C. "I don't get it."
Then the truly amazing bit--last summer at camp, which he had attended for only a week, a girl asked him out to a dance. And he went, dressed in the jeans and baseball hat he had brought (not knowing that perhaps a tux might be better).
She didn't write me back when I wrote her, he said matter of factly. But she told me she'll be at the same session next year...
dimanche, janvier 25, 2009
Come out, come out
Thanks to my friend Sabrina, I've been emboldened to add this follower's gadget to my page. Sabrina's got one on her blog http://www.followingthelede.blogspot.com/.
I'm not looking for worship, you understand -- I don't qualify for the position of domestic goddess.
I'm very curious about who is reading, however. Who checks in now and then from Paris? Who reads a few posts now and again in California? What's up with readers in the UK?
If you feel brave enough to identify yourself, whether with a real name or some online tag, please sign up. If not, I'm honored that you find me interesting enough, or peculiar enough, or perverse enough, to stop by, whether regularly or occasionally...as usual comments are always encouraged.
And thank goodness, I don't always talk about my love life, or lack thereof --that would be awfully tedious.
I'm not looking for worship, you understand -- I don't qualify for the position of domestic goddess.
I'm very curious about who is reading, however. Who checks in now and then from Paris? Who reads a few posts now and again in California? What's up with readers in the UK?
If you feel brave enough to identify yourself, whether with a real name or some online tag, please sign up. If not, I'm honored that you find me interesting enough, or peculiar enough, or perverse enough, to stop by, whether regularly or occasionally...as usual comments are always encouraged.
And thank goodness, I don't always talk about my love life, or lack thereof --that would be awfully tedious.
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