This morning a family friend who is home from Carleton College came over to hoop. Zippy and I had already gotten her measurement (floor to navel) and made her hoop. I left her with the gaffer tape while I took Zebu to school. A few minutes after I got back home she gave me a somewhat exasperated look and asked if she could finish taping later. Taping is tiresome work and I was glad to learn I’m not the only one who stinks at it. Wrinkles, anyone? Gaps?
We went down to the basement and hooped for about 90 minutes.
We laughed as our hoops hit the ceiling, flew across the room, and knocked the backs of our heads. We grinned in triumph whenever the hoops twirled just the way we wanted them to twirl. And we agreed that thigh hooping is damned difficult and slightly painful, and maybe not a trick we need to learn.
We made plans to hoop together again very soon.
This evening Zebu taped his hoop.
I’m calling it Tracy’s Hooping Anti-Massacre Movement. Somehow I think Arlo would approve.