Walkin’ the Walk
Colorado is enjoying what I think is a beautiful late spring/early summer. The weather people are telling us that we are going to be climbing into the upper 90s in the next few days and into next week. But the mornings are simply beautiful. So rather than tackling the boring treadmill at the gym, Bill and I have been going for morning walks. Our goal is between two-and-a-half and three miles, and we have been largely successful. Yesterday morning, we headed south towards our neighborhood park and then up and around to Whole Foods so that I could buy a few things. Bill enjoys walking more if there is a purpose attached to the walk – something in addition to the obvious purpose of staying healthy. Our walk took us past the neighborhood pool and coming towards us on her bike was Addie. Since she couldn’t imagine that we WOULDN’T be coming to watch either her or her sisters swim, she informed us our timing was off. She was finished and Dagny wasn’t starting for an hour. When we told her we didn’t intend to watch swimming, she was taken aback, but recovered in time to say see ya later. It’s fun to live near grandkids.
Dory or Dora?
I am as excited as any child at the fact that Finding Dory will finally be released tomorrow (Friday). I am determined to grab a few grandkids to make it not embarrassing and see the movie as soon as possible. Finding Nemo was one of my favorite movies – not just kids’ movies, but movies overall. I think Ellen DeGeneres could make me laugh watching her vacuum her living room. Not that she vacuums her own living room. The kids have chastised me plenty for inadvertently calling it Finding Dora, but I have started saying the correct name. I get my fishes and my annoying little Spanish-speaking cartoon girls mixed up.
Kaiya, Mylee, and Cole spent the day with Bill and me on Tuesday. Just after lunch, Addie came by to visit, and brought along makings for an art project. She had paint and canvas and brushes, and a willingness to work with the littler ones. So I dug through my dresser and found three old t-shirts that could be used as painting shirts, put them on the little ones, and the artistic magic began. Addie and I mutually decided giving Cole acrylic paint was a decidedly BAD idea, so he got crayons. He did, however, get a paint shirt….
One of the bloggers I follow – A Grand Journey – talked about keeping a gratitude journal in her last blog post. Now, I have, of course, heard of this concept before. I even know people who keep such a journal, though I never have. But in her blog post, she mentioned that she had been uncharacteristically down in the dumps a bit as of late, and decided reminding herself of her blessings on a daily basis would help. She did it for 30 days, and it did, indeed, change her mood. Her self-imposed rules were that she would have to write down five things for which she is grateful EACH DAY; she couldn’t repeat; and her gratitude could not be for her family because she already knows how grateful she is for her husband, kids, and grandkids. As she put it, she wanted to “stretch my gratitude muscle.” I have embarked on this challenge, effective yesterday. While I am well aware of how lucky I am, IT IS HARD. Especially the part about not being able to use your family as reasons for gratitude. But it certainly makes you pay attention to the world around you.
I treated myself to a pedicure yesterday (one of my items for which I was thankful yesterday), and the lady sitting next to me was possibly the rudest and crabbiest person I’ve ever been around. I kept my nose in my book so as to not have her direct her ire at me. But the poor nail technician who drew the short straw was being treated incredibly rudely. At one point I heard her ask him, “Why don’t you ever talk?” He said quietly, “We are supposed to not talk too much to our customers to give them peace.” “Hmphff,” she said. “I think you just can’t speak English.” But to my delight, there was a woman across the room who was very likely in her 90s. She was very pretty and was getting her toenails painted a forest green with a shimmery overcoat. Ms. Crabby Appleton sitting next to me said to her, “I can’t believe you’re getting your nails painted GREEN.” The pretty woman smiled and said, “I think at my age, I can have my nails painted any color I want.”