by Margie Senechal
I was hoping I'd wake up with something to write, but alas, waking up before the sun isn't good for the synapses. At least mine, but I shall muddle through.
On Tuesday, Jordan and I went to see Hello, My Name Is Doris. And Sally Field is such a delight in it. Jordan was the youngest one in attendance and I think I was a close second. And we both enjoyed it immensely.
I am reading The Year We Turned Forty bu Liz Fenton and Lisa Steinke. It's about three friends getting who recently turned fifty getting a chance to live their 40th year over as that was a catalystic year for them all. Do you realize that catalystic isn't a word. I think it should be. Maybe I meant cataclysmic??? Remember, it's early here. Probably not there, however, so bear with me. Bare with me??
Oh, back to the book. I can't imagine any year that I would want to live over. However, sometimes I think I wish I could leave a message for the young me. There are three or four things I wished I'd known.
Like, "Don't lose your sense of adventure." "Don't stop running." and "Keep doing cartwheels".
Not that I was great at doing cartwheels, but it's kind of all-inclusive. Think of the things you did when you were young and somewhere along the way, you quit doing them. And now you are physically unable to do them.
I thought of this after seeing a picture of Marcia Cross--who isn't that much younger than me--doing cartwheels on the beach. Sure, she's in way better shape than I am, but maybe it's because she never quit doing cartwheels. Or has a trainer.
Time to go, but one last shout out--GO BLAZERS. RipCity, baby!