2023 Resolution, Setting Boundaries

You engage in lots of self-reflection painting a 3 x 5’ closet. 

A friend on social media dropped the New Year’s resolution question and I popped off a thought. 

Oh sweet Kim, of course we can hang.

The more I think about it, the more I want to do this. I’ve had my feelings hurt by extending invitations countless times to friends and family only to have those invitations ignored. I have made peace with it, thinking “everybody is busy these days,” and yet there were no invitations extended to me.

Time to let go and not let it hurt me anymore. 

There’s another group of friends whom we got together on the regular, and I tried to make it when I could. I valued friendships and made the effort. Had a falling out with one person in the group, didn’t think it would spill over, honestly should have been over a long time ago. But then I noticed the core group would travel to visit her but not me. And the invites stopped coming.

I get it, you made your choice. It’s me, I’m the problem. That hurts too, especially from two I counted as my best friends from grade school and high school.

I’m letting it go. I’d rather be enjoyed than tolerated. 

But there is a silver lining: more time for others. Setting boundaries. And giving people a chance to miss our friendship and reconnect. It’s happening already. 

LHOTR: Closet Cleanup

Fugly…

…to finished!

I have harbored some hate for the closet at the cottage. Unfinished floor, bandaid colored walls, boards jammed in over chair rails for shelving, and old, curling shelf paper.

I discovered a few leftover loose planks in the basement and that was all the motivation I needed; I couldn’t wait for the holiday break to tear it all apart. I took a quick trip to Menards and told the boys to go snowmobiling.

Day one was spent painting the walls flat white and the shelves Mediterranean blue. I decided to remove the extra shelf and slide the white shelving unit flush against that back wall. This opens the closet up and being on the northern wall, blocks the cold.

I realized I didn’t bring enough flooring up and grabbed a whole box during a return trip back home. Good thing, it was a completely different floor - one of the boxes from an abandoned laundry room project. But I liked the color better. Ninety percent of the floor was installed in ten percent of the time it took to lay it down. I was tired and should have done my math to know I needed four boards plus two inches, but for some reason thought I needed two and a half, and spent the better part of the evening recutting planks to finish the job.  

Day three was spent cutting and nailing baseboards down. I solved the transition strip problem at the door by laying the baseboard flat and nailing it to the floor. I was surprised at how nice it looked. 

I finished by screwing small hooks into the chair rail the previous owners used to create a lip for the shelves. These are good for hanging little stuff like hats, swimsuits, drawstring backpacks, and dry bags. I also got a shade for the naked bulb.

I have since needed things from the closet just as an excuse to admire the makeover. Sure, it’s the work of an amateur; flat cuts instead of mitered edges (is that the right word?), I need to fill my nail holes, do paint touch-ups, and fix some of my mistakes, but it was a quick three-day labor project at the little house. 

December's Song: I Wanna Be Stevie Nicks

RIP Songbird

We are starting my new year's resolution a month early. The goal: write a song a month, with the resolve to not self-edit or worry if it’s crap. I feel like the melody has to be 90s indie rock, maybe a little Mazzy Star. Dedicated to Christine McVie. 

She’s a doe-eyed beauty with fairy hair

Kissing drummers on a dare, 

Making records about heartbreak

As if our lives were at stake.

Wrapped tightly in a shawl 

Keeping Tom close on call, 

Singing about life so free

All the girls wanted to be... Stevie. 

A gypsy life, a tambourine, 

A muse enthralled with witches.

Enveloped in lace and sadness,

A siren's song bewitchin'.

She started life as Stephanie

An angel from the desert came to be.

A new persona came one eve, 

And then she changed her name to... Stevie. 

But who is that in the back, 

Hair shining, a California sheen.

Singing tales of love, and fun, 

And everything...

Baby,

Put down your tambourine.

Place your heart upon the keyboard,

Because, oh maybe, instead, I want to be...

Christine. 

I’m Somebody!

I got a package in the mail from the State of Michigan yesterday. I had no idea what it could be, hoping it wasn’t a ticket.

Imagine my surprise to receive a certificate of congratulations for graduating from Grand Valley. 

I’m trying to remember if I’ve ever gotten something like this before. Nothing special outside of a small article in the paper when I graduated from Ferris. A handful of Best Advisor certificates from the Office of Student Life. I got certificates from the State Games of Michigan awarding me All-State honors in 2015 and then All-American in 2017.

Call it impostor’s syndrome, I thought something like this was a big deal when someone else got this; now that I have one, I’m almost embarrassed that tax dollars were spent. 

It’s nice that GVSU sent along my information and that I am formally celebrated as a graduate. I like having my 4.0 celebrated by someone other than me. I don’t know, I may put it in a certificate frame. It is a pleasant surprise. 

December Playlist: The New Year's Resolution setlist

First I skated to it, now I play it! 

So I've spent a year noodling around on my old acoustic from my grandma, brought the electric out of hiding, and discovered a junior guitar at a garage sale. I can make melodies work, and I found the Fender Learn to Play Guitar DVD stuck in a stack on the entertainment center. 

Time for alter ego Sister Gloria to make her set list! My new year's resolution is to be able to play a set as if I were at some coffee house making $20 in tips from the door. The only intended audience for this is me.

Songs come from my book of Beatles and favorite pop standards. I think 10 should do it. 

Ain’t No Sunshine, Bill Withers

Can’t Help Falling in Love, Elvis

Cielito Lindo, a Mexican mariachi standard 

Don’t Dream It’s Over, Crowded House

Greensleeves, English traditional

Here, There, and Everywhere, The Beatles

Have I Told You Lately, Van Morrison

I Can’t Make You Love Me, Bonnie Raitt

Just the Way You Are, Billy Joel

Morning Has Broken, Cat Stevens

Next challenge is chord progress, making my fat fingers work. 

Why Art Matters: Remembering Fanfic

Beatles, Queen, Def Leppard - looks like I had a thing for British rock musicians.

This memory came about from a Reddit post discussing the coming-of-age movie Seeing Red and the main character Mei's notebook filled with drawings and stories about her crushes, from a boy band to the kid at the convenience store. Fellow adult women confessed to the vibrancy of their teenage imagination, falling in love with love and pimply boys elevated to gods in Nikes and Cheeto-stained t-shirts, and what we created out of that emotion.

One poster confessed to fanfic stories about Harrison Ford.

Another, drawings of herself with Prince.

My cringe-worthy contribution to the discussion? Back in the 80s, after we got MTV, I storyboarded a music video for Def Leppard and the ballad Too Late for Love. Oh lord, let’s see if I can remember the plot based on rereading the lyrics and a glance back at the object of my affection, lead guitarist Steve Clark.

It would also appear I have a thing for tall blondes. Why did you break my heart, like for real? RIP

In the video, Steve and I are in love, making eyes at each other while I write songs in a beat-up spiral notebook, playing together in a garage band until we split - he for Def Leppard, me to my American Catholic grade school while performing in some local band. 

We try to connect, the girl back home and the boy on the rise to superstardom. I look wistfully at a phone, and he stares sadly at a picture of me looking HOT, I am on stage alone staring out into a crowd, reaching for him in the darkness. I continue to write, gazing through lace curtains at the rain.

I was only about 13, so that pocket full of innocence was intact as I fantasized about my 22-year-old British lead guitarist boyfriend! And what girl didn't want to be the queen of the dream?

During the whoa-ohs and guitar solo, Steve misses me in return, gazing into the camera, sending flowers that somehow just miss me. Did no one think to send them along to me? Hey - was that a ring he just bought?

At the conclusion of the video, I sneak backstage to surprise him but groupies! Sleazy record management! Drug dealers! Crazy fans who are probably more age appropriate! Roadies! It's too much, I've lost him! I turn to leave, a tear sliding down my cheek because heartbreak is so appropriate at this moment. But Steve sees me in the crowd, his heart is true, and he disengages from the throng and races to catch up to me.

We face each other, the both of us wracked with emotion, and kiss, defying the meaning of the song, as Joe Elliot sings that we are bound to “play the fool.” 

So unoriginal. Cringe complete. 

Once I finished it, I was so embarrassed I hid the notes between my mattress and box spring for at least a year.  It may still be in a box of papers in the basement along with my other diaries.

As embarrassing as it is, I say keep creating preteens. This is your artistic heart sorting something out while you are transitioning into adulthood. Lest any reader judge, I know you’ve got some Duran Duran adventure diaries tucked away in a box somewhere.

Edited to add there's an official video for this song I never saw before today! My concept was better.

Loyalty

Halloween haul after hanging with his group

The boy has started eighth grade and is blossoming. He has a core group of friends that he hangs out with for football games, pizza parties, and school dances.

But he’s left a few behind, and it kind of hurts my heart. But Dave tells me to leave it be, we can’t orchestrate his social life for him. 

I was the loyal friend to a fault. My instincts were to leave no one friendless and leave no friend behind. 

This was not often reciprocated, as I was ditched for others more popular, with invites to better parties. Tides turned when I got my own car and was seen as the ride to the dance. 

Now that I think of it, I did resent my good nature being taken advantage of and saw right through it. So good on him for being honest with himself and not taking on the baggage, I guess. 

I know I’m not right, but I feel like this isn’t right either. 

November Playlist: Originals!

I’ve got a hand in this.

So I was at the Porcupine Tree show in September, surrounded by dudes entirely too tall for me to even attempt to stand on tiptoe to see the band. They were performing in shadows with a video playing behind them, so it was enough for me to sit and listen to the music. The mind started to wander, and I thought, "I could write a song."

Since I've got a set list of cover tunes I can play, what about original material? I mean, if the guy from Poison can knock out Every Rose Has Its Thorn, I could pen... something? 

I'm feeling tongue in cheek, a little punkish, a little open mic night, a little folky. Also feeling like this is the start of a new year’s resolution. I could write a song a month, with the resolve not to self edit or worry if it’s crap or not. After years of trying to win gold medals or complete a run with a personal best, might be nice to get an idea down on paper then let it go without worrying if it’s Grammy-worthy.

The girls.

I Wanna Be Stevie Nicks - an homage with a twist. Lyrics have me focusing on Stevie's lace, broken hearts, fairies, and doe eyes. But with her fuck it attitude and whiskey tinged vocals maaaaaybe, just maybe, I'd rather be Christine McVie. 

Fat Mom - meet me where I am. And who am I? Someone who is tired of fad diets and exercise class, who'd rather take a walk than a run. Someone transitioning away from an afternoon skate for little league double headers. Someone coming to terms with occupying my skin. Empowerment punk.

Canning Jar - letting my inner Laura out, and spicing things up with some country flavor. Gotta save the fruit, so some fun with color and flavor. 

Retro Crush - moms dream too! I obviously am nursing a little golden heart for 70s John Deacon "who's the shy boy behind Freddie? I suddenly want to go steady! But look at me, and he's in Queen and that was so many years agoooooo." LOL. 

Bracket to Counter - I have to sing about skating. This will be my turn - literally - at being Christine Lavin, the folk artist who wrote a song about the 1961 plane crash that took down the USFSA skating team. I can find a lilting melody and sing in quiet desperation about moving along and finding the joy in skating, and possibly my time in the sport as a competitor coming to a close. 

Ismeta - a story song. We were staying at a Hampton Inn downtown Chicago where we encountered the most astonishing breakfast room manager. It was 5-star treatment for galley kitchen free breakfast. She's Bosnian, and worked the room as if it were her life's work. She gave little bits of love to everyone, a banana for a man on the go, cinnamon rolls for Will, a hug and Earl Grey for me. What's the story there? 

Light a Candle, Say a Prayer - introspection. I'm not the only Catholic struggling with the church, yet pretty sure my faith is intact. Or is it? 

I'd Give You Mine - more introspection. Just someone is in need, and I wish I could give him what he needs but I can't.

Victory - I wrote this song when I was eight years old, and it was about overcoming shyness, winning a spelling bee, standing up to the school bully, all the things an eight year old would consider a victory. Can a 53 year old remember who she was (checks math) 45 years ago? 

Merch! Oh, I'd have Rachel, my cartoonist friend from Italy draw me and Deaky together for stickers. Concert tee would be a slightly out of focus photo of two hands canning some berry jam, or Ismeta's hands offering a to-go paper cup of tea. 

"We loved you guys, then you went away."

The core adult skaters from the old club, circa 2008

Remember that post, Let it Go, from 2014? Of course you do, click the link for a refresher. 

I skated today with one of the girls from my old home club, and we were discussing the toxic culture there in relation to current SafeSport rules and regulations. The topic of my leaving the club came up. 

I said, "I knew I was no longer welcome when I was blackballed from test sessions. Lauren was so upset that I wasn't on her test panel, and I didn't even know about it."

Says she, "We were all upset you weren't there. I mean, we all looked up to you guys, you were so fun. We were there for adult nationals and sectionals. We loved you guys, then you went away."

"Well, you knew we weren't welcome..."

"I kind of knew something was wrong, but we were so young. We thought of you guys as skate moms, as big sisters. It was awful not having you there."

I just... there's a lot of emotion I'm attempting I'm trying to figure out. I should feel vindicated that we were missed, but all I feel right now is sorrow over the fractured relationship with these kids, and that they felt the pain of us leaving. 

But I also remember the snubs, overlooked at nationals, the deliberate hostility towards us that resulted in us leaving one by one. 

To read my post from eight years ago, I know now that I did make a difference while I was there. But still, walking away had to happen. I mourned it then; I'm mourning it now. It didn't have to be that way. 

1982

Stranger than fiction, 1982 - playing fashion models while wearing a roach clip and one of my dad’s old dress shirts.

Nothing is more magical and awkward than being a mom to a teenage boy experiencing a relationship for the first time. His paramour is a straight-A dancer and saxophone player who is an absolute delight. She appears to be confident, self-assured and composed. The awkward part is our newfound relationships with the girl's parents, who are learning to navigate this friendship/chaperone thing too.

This is in stark contrast to my awkward ass in 1982.

Oh, let’s see… skinny but big boobs, Afro, huge glasses, retainer (a Frankel, if you were wondering), corrective shoes, awkwardly shy, nursing a hard crush on the boy that chose two of my cousins, and then my best friend over me. The only talents I was really harboring were drawing and writing while playing the best friend who held your coat while the cute boy asked you to dance Teen Night at Showbiz Pizza. At 13, I was relatively wealthy, banking my $2 an-hour income babysitting the Schaaf kids up the street.

It’s a wonder to see how confident kids these days are moving through life. 

A year later, looking like a divorced accountant in her mid-30s. 

I hope these kids are having a great time and I hope they are treating each other well. Will is enjoying a newfound freedom as well as an active social life where he's going to dances, pizza dates, haunted houses, and such. 

Ringo Starr Concert Pictoral

The family that rocks out to living legends together stays together.

He's talking 'bout Boys.

My boy excited to be in the presence of Mr. Richard Starkey.

Banter with the audience.

I Wanna Be Your Man!

Hey Be-a-tle.

Peace and Love! He contracted COVID and cancelled the shows the week after this. Get well Ringo!

Pictures don't do the stage justice. 

Typing Out Loud: A Rose by Any Other Name...?

I was on campus the other day, and presented with a rose from an organization called Positive Options. 

And I took it. 

Does this conflict with my pro-choice stance on reproductive rights and freedom?

No, it does not.

When I say I am pro-choice, I mean all choices, not just the right to an abortion. Having a baby is an option. An open or closed adoption is also an option. 

The women that presented me with this gift appeared to be caring, compassionate, and readily available to hear an individual's fears and concerns, and provide at least two of the three options.

There was no shock and shouting. No calling women harlots, whores, fornicators, or worse. 

Make no mistake, these women were pro-life; but they deserved to share their preferred choices as well. 

October Playlist: The Plastic Strawberries

I'd probably go for the A-line dress and the bucket hat, the stockings are a bit much. 

Here's the band, that's my jam!

So I'm on some alt universe cover band kick where I imagine myself the lead guitarist. This one comes from doing one of those "name the thing in your hand and the last thing you ate" quizzes and The Plastic Strawberries came to be. What smells like plastic strawberries? Kids toys, like Strawberry Shortcake dolls, Hello Kitty markers, and scratch and sniff stickers.

What's hilarious about it is the costuming that comes to mind.  There's a whole lot of cottage core to unpack - think about those aprons, striped stockings, and bucket hats. 

So October's alt universe band will do punk versions of song about food or at least it appears to be about food, but that innuendo...! 

The Brothers Johnson, Strawberry Letter 23 - is it R&B or psychedelic pop?  

Kacey Musgraves, Biscuits - people serve fruit desserts on everything from angel food cake to those yellow cake cups to biscuits. Kacey is serving a message in this song as well. 

The Rolling Stones, Brown Sugar - cooking in more ways than one. 

The Cars, Candy-O - I mean, it's just cool. 

Garbage, Cherry Lips - it turns up on my lists time and again for a reason. It stays. 

Lizzo, Juice/Coconut Oil - a newer artist who frankly kicks ass. You play that crystal flute!

Tori Amos, Cornflake Girl - this is an all girl band dressed like plastic dolls, so yes.

Van Halen, Ice Cream Man - every time Dave gives me grief about loving the pop metal Van Hagar era, I counter with DLR's penchant for tin pan alley. 

Labelle, Lady Marmalade - of course a band dedicated to fruit is going to do this. 

The Beatles, Savoy Truffle - I was trying to avoid the Fabs since I overrepresent them on playlists, but c'mon - this song is George Harrison reading the lid off a box of candy, just to make fun of Eric Clapton. 

Band merch will include scratch and sniff stickers and brightly colored t-shirt dresses because I've seen entirely too many moody black prog rock t-shirts lately. 

Post No. 600: I'm Going to be Guest DJ on Sirius XM!

It's happening!

Remember that post back in May where I listed what songs I would play if I were guest DJ for the My Fab Four show on Sirius XM?

I sent it in.

It's happening.

Message above confirms it. 

I'm just giddy.

And we are going to see Ringo tomorrow night. Will gets to see a Beatle. 

I do have the transcript of the audio recording, posted below. My blog, my rules. 

Post #600 should be a celebration!

SHOW BREAKDOWN

Break 1: I’m Beatle Fan MELISSA from Comstock Park Michigan and this is My Fab Four. All of the songs I’ve chosen I have been obsessed with at one time or another.

The first song I chose is from my first ever music purchase. When I was about seven years old, I bought the Beatles Greatest Hits 62-66, commonly known as the Red Album. And it was an 8-track, if that dates me and this story! I was obsessed with Norwegian Wood, a song I thought was pretty and sad at the same time. Being that young, all of the innuendo completely went over my head, oh John, you naughty boy. This is Norwegian Wood.

SONG 1


Break 2:

That was Norwegian Wood and this is Melissa from Comstock Park Michigan. Today I’m playing My Fab Four on Sirius XM, The Beatles Channel.

Now for my second song, I’m going back to the 80s, around the time when I was obsessed with the Revolver album. It happened to coincide with a particularly bad breakup. Let me tell you, no one can nurse a broken heart more obsessively than a teenage girl, I played this song for one month straight, or at least it felt like it. Thanks Paul McCartney, this is For No One.

SONG 2


Break 3: That was For No One from Revolver and my name is Melissa from Comstock Park Michigan. You’re listening to My Fab Four from the Beatles, On Sirius XM.

For song number 3, let me tell you to my husband Dave. He is a big rock music fan like me. Only he takes his obsessions even further, especially when it comes to audio equipment. He insists on better car stereos, a surround sound home theatre, and even better ear buds for me while exercising; he promised me the Beatles would sound even better. The first song I listened to with the new ear buds was Day Tripper; it felt like Ringo Starr was playing drums with my heart while rattling a tambourine right in my skull; and I became obsessed with his drumming technique. This is Day Tripper.

SONG 3


Break 4: That was Day Tripper on Sirius XM…The Beatles Channel. I’m Melissa from Comstock Park Michigan and I've been playing My Fab Four today. Thank you so much for having me!

My Fab Four selections have been all about my obsession with the Beatles throughout the years. The last song came about through one of my other great obsessions, the sport of figure skating. Figure skaters will tell you they are always looking for the next great piece of music to pull together for a program. Well, I was leaving practice one day, and this song, off the White Album came on, and the possibilities blew me away - I’m still trying to make it work! George Harrison whispers then shouts, you are pulled then pushed, the drums thunders in, and outta nowhere, rattling bottles. Frankly, I don’t understand why more people aren’t obsessed with this song. This is Long, Long, Long.

SONG 4

Moment of Joy 2021, a lost December post

I just found this post from December 2021 that was never published. It's ok to revisit the accomplishment. Maybe races aren't completely in my rearview now that I am signed up for Walktober at GVSU.

The mailing box where I started to list all my virtual races until I ran out of space on it. 

How many in-person races did I accomplish this year? 

Zero. 

How many virtual races did I do? Too many to count. And today, by completing a 26.2-mile bike ride, I finally earn my marathon medal. 

Like last year, a majority of my races have been on the elliptical. It's my preferred method of movement, as it is the only piece of operational cardio equipment I own in the house. I always check the race before I commit, making sure this method is legit. 

But that's not my only mode of covering miles. I have kayaked a few, walked a few (finding things that bubble on campus for the Bubble Run was a favorite), and when US Figure Skating informed us 5k = 35 laps, I did quite a few on skates as well. 

I will finish strong this December with four more medals to complete the year. I have six more coming (couldn't resist) and I'm going to limit myself to one a month like I had originally planned. 

Going for the Gold: An Adult Skater at Camp

First day of skate camp! 

One of my favorite people in the world, my old coach Mandy. She's running the SPFSA show now.

I had the opportunity to revisit my old home club in Missouri and skate with a couple of Olympians and a veteran skater. 

I know them! 

I got there early for the Q&A and meet and greet. Everyone got a little gift, which was a drawstring backpack with a headband, pen, and sticker. They also provided autographed photos and a chance to get a picture with the team of coaches. Excitedly, Sue, Carley, and Mo, who skated with Gracie in the past, sent text messages for me to share with Gracie, who lit up at the sound of familiar names. 

Swag!

First class was power skating with Mirai Nigasu. She ran us through a lot of the pre-pre through juvenile moves, which was a relief since I kind of nailed it and was keeping up with the kids. Then came the twizzles. Still not feeling them in these skates, but I did manage to knock out the beginning of a fair to middlin' LFI twizzle. 

I had the adult locker room to myself on Saturday. SafeSport has its advantages.

Second class was steps and turns with Gracie Gold. She is a darling girl. And apparently a big fan of the supportive adult skating community. She complimented how well I was able to do many of the steps and turns, but saw I was struggling - still - with all that left inside stuff. She wrinkled her face and said, "lots of adult skaters have that one thing they struggle with. There's no reason you can't do it, you do it so well on your right. I think you just need to be cool about it." And I managed to do left and right outside rockers and counters and did her add on challenge when we connected power threes together with double threes and the rockers. Glad to have held my own. 

Axels? No problem...

Last class for Saturday was beginning axel with Eddie Shipstand. First instruction was to hold our head steady doing waltz jumps. It's amazing how well that worked! Then waltz-backspins. Then we did waltz-loop and I was practically floating, until I started thinking. That's when he yelled at us to stop thinking. Then came waltz-loop-backspin. Then he had us do bell jumps, which is the halfway point between a waltz jump and an axel. I was commended for fantastic bell jumps but not to try to pull in so hard, use my arms to help me. Next was bell jump, two foot spin, one foot spin, hop, one foot landings. I actually felt like I was getting close, then the girl next to me landed her axel for the first time! She immediately started landing them like she's been doing them all along. 

Adults skate too!

I woke up to a thunderstorm Sunday morning. It would have been easy to fall back asleep but opportunity was knocking. So I battled raindrops for my next three classes. 

I jumped on A rink for spins with Mirai. This class was a mixed bag for me, too many peeps on the ice for me to do more than a few feeble attempts at spin variations. Still, first camel spin in quite a while, and I managed a few tuck sit spins. 

Next, I scooted off to the gym for off ice technique with Eddie. He ran us through good practices for off ice jump, emphasizing technique, technique, technique. Skipping is a good warmup, and I was surprised to see I could do skips with ankle locking in mid-air. We did quarter-, half-, three quarter-, and full-rotation drills on two feet and I kept up with the kids. Reminder when doing these drills for one foot landings to always land and hop out the landing, least I rip my knees from my legs. He says there's training videos, I will need to find them. He was my favorite surprise from the camp. 

Lastly, combo jumps with Gracie. I landed a toe-toe-toe-toe-toe-toe-toe-toe, and continued to landing combo+toe through the whole experience. Then we switched to loops. When I wasn't thinking about it, I landed a couple of sal-loop, falling leaf-toe-loops, and half loop-loops. Then I started to think. Then she had us do two foot RBO glides into single loops. I FUBARed them. Ever optimistic, she said, "if anyone can do it, an adult skater can!" Thanks for the vote of confidence. 

Patches and rubs. 

With my toe killing me, my hips exhausted, and my knees protesting, the whole shebang was over. 

I'm still so very sore from all that time on the ice. Pretty sure all the walking and visiting historic landmarks in Saint Louis and Chicago didn't help either. I've taken quite a few notes and once I'm not feeling hobbled, ready to put it all into practice. 

Typing Out Loud: Best Dressed?

A tad overdressed for visiting the old neighborhood. 

Cheers my dears! 

In recent years, I have been complimented on being well dressed for any occasion. Baseball games. Dinner out. Skating. Concerts. 

How did I develop such style? 

Public shame.

It happened several times while living in St. Louis, where we are currently on vacation. Dave, lover of fine dining, would inevitably call me at work on casual Friday, to say “meet me at this fine dining establishment!” when I was wearing leggings and a sweatshirt. The maitre’d would sniff and we’d be shown to a table in a dark corner.

The worst was a birthday celebration at The Melting Pot after a Rams game. I was wearing walking shorts and a polo, Dave more or less in the same. We arrived early for our 5:30 reservation, and was told to come back closer to that time. When we did, we were told we would not be seated because I was dressed too casually, and perhaps I would feel more at home at a BBQ joint. 

We ended up at KC Masterpiece, where I did feel more welcome, but the comment stung. We haven’t been to The Melting Pot since. 

A few years later, applying for my silver appointment, I asked a judge who I had thought I had a friendly working relationship with if she’d support my promotion. Instead, she told me I dressed as if I were fat, which she thought was sloppy, and she didn’t support me. 

Yes, I cried. Later, she felt bad and approached me to apologize for being cruel - while she was wearing a popcorn top! - and said yes, she would support me if I still needed her. I said no thank you.

As a result, I have erred on the side of overdressing. When in doubt, a dress will always do. A sweater instead of a sweatshirt. Flats instead of sneakers. Jackets that look more polished than a windbreaker or coat. Tasteful jewelry. Clothes that fit well and are comfortable on my skin. 

Still working on the hair. 

Game of the Year

Peña addresses the crowd, applauding the fans' heart saying, "We did this because of you!"

Addressing his team, "I love you guys!"

Group hug.

Picture this: your team is down 4-0 in the 9th inning, you've already been eliminated from playoff contention when your rivals won their game down in Cleveland, and maybe the only reason a huge crowd of 7,400+ is hanging around is because there's fireworks after the game. Do you give it up?

Nope.

Single. Walk. Walk. And with two outs, triple. Squeeze play and we are TIED 4-4. And with a fielder's choice in the 10th, an amazing comeback win to end the season with a 5-4 victory. 

Pandemonium ensues, with players, honored guests, and a dinosaur rushing the field. Midwest League manager of the year Bryan Peña addresses the crowd to give props to his players saying "they never give up, and it's because of you, the fans, who never gave up on us. It's because of youuuuuuu! It's heart! It's HEAAAAAAAART!" 

We didn't get to too many games this year because of our schedules, but enough to know we saw the game of the year. 

HBD Garrett

We did have two players taking residence in the basement, Aaron and Garrett, so we can claim baseball sons 25 and 26.  Garrett went home on his birthday, promising if he returns to WM, to come back home. 

And they always leave us a shower gel or shampoo. 

Typing Out Loud: Edge of 53, and What Happiness Is

What the middle-aged is this?

There's no denying it - by turning 53, I am, without question, deeply middle aged. And this week started with me feeling cranky, anxious, and fat. This is no way to approach my next revolution around the sun. 

How do we turn this bus around?

For one, I think it's time to shake off the COVID mentality and start working out on a regular basis. Even if it's jumping back on the elliptical after dropping Will off at zero hour jazz band.

Lay off the sugar. Judges' gifts have included way too much chocolate and Daily Deals has had too many bags of cheap jelly beans. Back away, I need my pancreas functioning.  

Skating - I have to figure it out. Between central and west Michigan, I've got to get back on the ice and start working on programs and pattern dances. At least I will be getting back in the saddle with a couple of Olympians this week, as I am attending a skate camp with Mirai Nigasu and Gracie Gold. 

Name drop! 

Intellectual pursuits. Harvard is offering a certificate in Managing Happiness out of the business school and Kennedy School of Government. Let me earn a certificate from the most prestigious school in the nation for the fluffiest of subjects. Let's earn me a Harvard alumni sweatshirt!

Picking up a prescription at Walgreens, I contemplated box color to even out the crazy bleach blonde from summer that was making me look washed out when the most amazing song came on the intercom, Confidence by Natania. Shazamed, I've got my vibe for the week. 

Yeah, happiness. Let's do this.