I used to hoop a lot and then I guess I lost enthusiasm because I never found my flow which made me feel clompy and uncoordinated and less-than-awesome in comparison with the many other people who seem to float as they hoop. BUT, today I’m feeling the urge to do more than spin the hoop around my waist while watching college basketball or whatever other television program I’d rather not view while sitting on my butt, and I want to learn to float and dance and do lots of graceful, cool tricks. I want to be the hooper of my imagination.
You heard it here first, people: I am going to cast off those clompy-Frankenstein-feelings and try to reclaim my joy in the spin. I am going to resume my pursuit of FLOW!
(Not me, not even close). This is a lovely hooper from Morguefile.com who I hope will keep me inspired to get back in the spin.
I just came in from hooping on my patio.
It was warm and sunny, and I dressed accordingly.
No, not like this:
image from morguefile.com
However, I did enjoy myself greatly.
In a few hours, the temperature will drop about 40 degrees and
the snow will begin to fall on this part of Colorado.
Maybe I'll wear a pink wig and striped socks when I'm out shoveling.
I want to check in here since I haven’t been around much lately,
but don’t want to completely fall out of the habit of blogging
while I’m hunkered down in the revision cave.
So here’s where I’m at in my collective health:
Emotionally speaking, I’m feeling good about the positive changes I’m
making via my revisions and choices for my career. I feel in control
of those factors I can control.
Physically speaking, I’m doing very well. Last Friday I graduated from
PT after seven weeks of no running. I can now run again on a limited basis
as I work back to where I was before. I’m also able to hoop again!!
My daily plank routine is going well, and I just finished a three-minute plank.
(I’m telling you, if you haven’t tried them, they’re a great way to firm up your core;
you see results very quickly).
Parentally speaking, in this exact moment I’m doing a better job of remembering
I already navigated my high school years and that it’s up to my boys to do the same.
(But, oh, it would be so nice to have a magic wand to keep away the hurt and angst).
Friendly speaking, I miss everyone here. And while I have glimmers of guilt for not
keeping up, I know you all understand. You get why it’s important to keep my head
down and push on through. But please know I’m thinking of you and sending good
thoughts your way.
This morning I came across ’s post about trying new things.
Then I read ’s post in which she invited us to be brave in our lives.
And the wheels in my brain started to turn,
which, in turn, caused my heart to pound.
Because I knew what new thing I’d like to try.
It’s something that would require a great amount of bravery.
In fact, my heart’s pounding again as I write this.
I want to take hooping lessons.
There, I said it!
But just the thought of demonstrating
my clunky, flow-less hooping to a pro
causes me great panic.
I mean, look at her:
This woman lives in my area and offers private lessons.
(Group lessons would totally overwhelm me, I think).
On the one hand, my new year’s resolutions included
learning to Beam Me Up (a cool hooping trick) and improving my flow.
She is so very good and I’m so very, um, what’s the word I’m looking for?
It’s been one of those months (a whole year of those months,
actually) and I decided to have some fun with the frustration
via Ryan Adams’ "Halloweenhead." Antics ensue.
Warning: "mature" language.
Here I am.
Hooping and happy.
Tomorrow we have regime change.
Yesterday I wasn’t my usual Birthday Gal self.
Despite kind messages from friends afar.
The sky was cold and gray, and my heart was heavy.
Then my loving Zippy came home early bearing gorgeous gifts.
It’s hard feeling down in the presence of sunflowers.
I decided it was time to make that new hoop I’ve wanted.
I find myself smiling again.
Life goes on.
Thank you to all who share it with me.
Wishing everyone a wonderful Thanksgiving.
I’ve wanted to post a video of me hooping but wasn’t brave enough.
This morning’s sunshine and my groovy shadow gave me courage.
Here I am hooping to Nick Drake’s "Know."
We went to Westcliffe for my family’s reunion and this time I remembered to bring my beginner’s hoop, the oversized, extra-heavy, foam-covered hoop I learned with last summer. Last month when visiting her, I’d only brought the lighter hoops and Mom was intimidated when the hoop kept dropping.
Not so this time around. The (78-year-old) woman is a natural.
Here we are during one of our 45-minute sessions:
(I’m having major difficulties with uploading photos onto my LJ. I can’t even get into Photobucket anymore and finally got this to work via TinyPic but it didn’t accept my custom cropping so you’re getting a much larger view of the car hood and much smaller view of Mom and me than I’d intended. Not to mention how my LJ keeps giving me an “undefined” error message when I click on Insert/Edit Image. Aargh!!!)
Last night I printed out the final twelve pages of my ms and read them again. I felt cold dread. Something was off. So I went outside and hooped without music as I talked aloud (to myself and the occasional finch or robin) about my story. And I realized I needed to use highlighters to, well, highlight the different plot and character interactions in those pages to get a handle on the situation.
Today I highlighted and wrote on sticky notes and scribbled in margins and crossed out paragraphs and basically had a good ol’ time ripping those pages apart. The cold dread has now warmed to a tentative optimism.
I wanted to post a photo of my efforts because it felt good to make that kind of progress but also because the results were rather colorful and festive.
Alas, I cannot locate my camera. Perhaps Zippy took it to British Columbia.
If you’d like to humor me, close your eyes and visualize yellow, pink, orange, green, and blue lines scattered with pale yellow sticky notes and illegible blue ballpoint scribbles.
Oohs and aahs optional.