My spring and summer were filled with the discovery that I could incorporate the European lifestyle into my own life right here in Chicago. 10:00 or 10:30 am several days a week would find me at a downtown cafe sipping an espresso with a friend/coworker before heading back to the office.
I rarely drank coffee before, let alone espresso, but it really helps one get in the mood..
Now that fall is here, I'm realizing how long it's been since I've taken care of certain things, such as visiting the dentist. Since I lost my dental insurance a few years ago, I haven't been in a while. Yesterday I went in and had my general cleaning and x-rays, and Dr. Born broke the news that I have two cavities! I was very surprised given that I have had a clean record until now. When I expressed this, Dr. Born informed me that the principal causes of cavities are diet changes and sugary beverages like soda. "But I NEVER drink soda!" I exclaimed.
"How about coffee with sugar?" he asked.
GASP! The sugar is what makes the espresso palatable! And so, my friends, the moral of the story is that even the lovely langour of the European life is not without pitfalls.
Today I ordered a latte to wean myself off the sugar. No sugar, but a lot more milk. It wasn't bad. But it's not the same.
Friday, October 02, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Nursing Chronicles
I am LONG overdue for a post. To add to Caitlyn's post about our apartment falling apart, there have been further occurrences involving a shower curtain rod falling on my head and the back door knob falling off. I think we may need to do a seance or some kind of offering to the Washtenaw ghosts.
Now time to bring you all up to date on my life since starting nursing school. I don't really have much of a life outside of classes and clinicals. I made it through the summer successfully, actually finishing with pretty decent grades but without really having much experience outside of mannequin and fake arms--for blood draws, starting IVs and practicing giving meds. This week begins week 5 of the fall semester and I am SO busy! I am taking obstetrics, pediatrics and medical/surgical 1 and 2, with theory classes on Mon and Fri and clinicals on Tue, Wed, Thur. Tue is the longest day med/surg 7am-7pm, Wed--OB 7am-2pm, Thur--Peds 2pm-9pm. Each site offers something different but by far my favorites have been labor and delivery, postpartum and the pediatric intensive care unit (PICU)--in that order. I've had the opportunity to see a baby be born, draw blood, administer medications (IV, oral and injection), catheterize and provide wound care (changing dressings) to name a few of the more exciting things.
In med/surg we usually stay on one floor but we get the chance to go to the rehab floor (PT/OT), the OR (I'm SOOOOO excited, I may get to watch an open heart or transplant!!) and oncology. I've had a variety of patients but for the most part I don't really enjoy med/surg--maybe it's just the floor I work on but it's so depressing, especially when the patients are getting terminal diagnoses. The one patient that really bummed me out was a 21 yr old guy who was transferrred from Guatamala for complications from a gall bladder removal. He looked like a Holocaust survivor--he hadn't been able to eat and weighed 81lbs. He was also in lots of pain but his Nurse Practioner wouldn't prescribe him IV morphine because she didn't want him to get used to IV meds since they wouldn't have them in Guatamala. She prescribed oral meds but he refused them because he wasn't able to eat anything and they cause upset stomach. It was upsetting/frustrating. But the worst part was that before he'd had his gall bladder removed he had NO medical history, awful. I knew from the get-go it wasn't a place I was going to want to work but it has been a good/interesting experience so far--but 12 hr shifts are so LONG!
With OB we go to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU), labor and delivery, triage, postpartum, outpatient clinic and mammograms. This week will be my first week in the NICU and I'm excited! L&D was an amazing experience (nurses only have 1 patient), the patient I was assigned to was supposed to deliver vaginally but ended requesting a c-section. I think I was more excited about the baby than the mom, it was just so cool that a second before there was nothing and then there was a whole new life in the room. I was also able to hold the baby for nearly an hr and I will point out that the baby was a honkin 10lb 12oz!!!!!! My arms were sore the next day.
In postpartum I did my first blood draw and I got it on the first try! It was really nice, I liked the pace. It has been the once place where I felt like I could handle having more than one patient at a time. The nurses tend to have 4-5 patients. It was kind of a relaxing floor, letting the patients rest and bond with their babies. I was really nervous to do a postpartum assessment and newborn assessment but they went over just fine and my patient was very understanding. It was also really exciting that when she asked me questions I actually KNEW the answers!!! And fortunately nobody hemorrhaged while I was on the floor--some of the other girls both had patients that started massively hemorrhaging their first day on the floor.
In mammograms I observed several different procedures and the radiologist on call that day was amazing. He explained all the procedures to me (even though I didn't understand half of what he said), made sure I could see and let me ask questions. It's always nice to have people willing to teach you things. The day I was in triage was fortunately a busy day. I walked patients back to their rooms and asked them why they were there. You'd think they'd all be coming in in labor--not so. One woman came in pregnant with twins at 36 wks for a fetal stress test, another woman came in because she'd been side-swiped and they wanted to monitor the baby, one woman came in because she was very sick with a cold and they wanted to monitor the baby, the other women that came in were either in active labor or the early stages of labor. We sent one woman home because she was not progressing which was unfortunate for her because she lived in Rockford--a good 2 hr drive.
Another woman who came in in labor was just truly unpleasant--We asked what brought her in and she snapped "Are you kidding me?!" We weren't. We then proceeded to get her into her room, asked some questions and left for a bit. When we returned the nurse flipped on the light and the patient barked "you could've warned me!" We had to start her IV because she needed penicillin as she was positive for a bacteria that can be very dangerous to babies as they're born and a blood draw. The needle my nurse used was HUGE and she blew the vein on attempt number one, which caused an instant goose egg. So she had to stick the woman again and as we walked out the nurse said "well that's not how that was supposed to go, I didn't use lidocaine because she was being such a snot." Ouch. Another patient knew NOTHING about her pregnancy--not her due date, her doctor, how much weight she'd gain (which I'd know down to the ounce). The only thing she knew was that she was high risk because the doctors suspected a heart defect--she was the one we sent home because despite contractions she hadn't progressed after an hr of walking around.
Peds we also get to have off-floor experiences in the PICU, NICU and pediatric ER. I've been to the PICU and I'll be going to either the NICU or Peds ER this week. I absolutely loved the PICU, the nurses only have 1-2 patients at a time (in med/surg they tend to have 5-6) and there is always something to do. The nurse I was paired with was very helpful and taught me a lot. She also let me do a straight catheterization--it doesn't stay in--on one of her patients. A 6 yr old boy who had come in after his mom had hit a parked construction truck--she was high. When the paramedics arrived he had no heartbeat but they resuscitated him and brought him to the PICU where he proceeded to code/crash on and off for 12 hrs. He was in the front seat of the car and suffered such severe whiplash that his spine was almost completely separated. He was trached and on a ventilator with minimal brain function. It was very hard to see the hardest part was that he moved in response to touch, despite being completely paralyzed. They were spinal reflexes but try explaining that to the grandmother who sees that and thinks he may be coming back. Despite that sad story and the 5 yr old patient who died last week I still liked it.
My second week on the floor I had a patient that didn't arrive until 5pm--we go off the floor at 7pm. So I wandered around and helped people where they needed it. Including helping a nurse do a blood draw on the strongest 2 yr old I've ever met; AND he was in almost a full body cast. Ridiculous. The following week as I went to flush my 3 yr old patient's IV line with water her started screaming, so I stopped. Then my instructor tried and stopped when he started screaming again. The nurse came in and told us to go ahead, sometimes they just get startled because the water is cold under their skin. It was not the case. When I pushed the 3mL water in--to more screams--all of a sudden both my instructor and the nurse called out 'stop stop!' I'd already put it all in but then I saw the bubble in his arm. His IV was infiltrated--the line had slipped out of his vein and all the water went into his skin, which is very painful. I felt horrible, though I know what it looks like and sounds like for the future. I got back on my patient's good side with chocolate milk and mac-n-cheese.
Last week I was just on the floor and I had the most difficult patient on the floor. He had come in with pressure ulcers--having been born with down's. He had a stroke that ended with a massive brain bleed and left him unresponsive. He ended up getting surgery for his sores but while I was caring for him they suspected he had developed blood clots in both legs. I gave him a feed through a tube that goes straight into his stomach. He was also trached and required suctioning--which I got to do, as well as trach care (cleaning the part that sits in the neck, replacing the ties that keep the plastic plate in place) While I was doing that with my instructor, and being observed by 4-5 other classmates, his grandmother walked in and looked mad. Unfortunately it took a long time to get the new ties in place because his body was very stiff from having not moved in so long. When we finally finished 2 girls stuck around with me so we could change his sheet. But it was not meant to be a smooth process. The sheet was stuck to his surgical wound/staples, so we were spraying the sheet and wound with a special product that was supposed to help loosen the sheet. But it wasn't working so I told the other girls to stop and went to get the nurse--who sent in the tech. When I got back in the sheet had unstuck so we got the old one out from under him--slowly and gently because we didn't want to make anything worse. Then the grandmother got more mad and called out "this is taking too long, where's the nurse?" None of use answered because we were focused, so she left the room and got the nurse. Upon re-entering with the nurse she shouted at her "this is taking too long, there are too many people in the room, they don't know what they're doing and we said we didn't want any students with him." So we repositioned the kid and I got out of there as quickly as possible. It was a frustrating and upsetting experience. Not because the grandmother didn't want students--that's fine, I completely understand--but because she said I didn't know what I was doing, when I was doing everything I could to keep him from getting hurt and because my nurse didn't come to help when I asked. And it wasn't the first time that day.
It seems like I have a lot of horrible experiences but every week has its ups and downs, and I'm still trying to get comfortable doing everything. I have been enjoying myself despite some of the bad days. The hardest thing at the moment is finding the time to do all the paperwork I have for clinicals, sleep, eat and study for exams. It will be wonderful when I'm done with all this paper writing business. I just volunteered to work a health fair on the south side of Chicago giving flu shots, BMI, BP, wellness screenings, that kind of thing. Should be interesting to say the least. Sorry this is SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO long but I had a lot to catch you up on.
Now time to bring you all up to date on my life since starting nursing school. I don't really have much of a life outside of classes and clinicals. I made it through the summer successfully, actually finishing with pretty decent grades but without really having much experience outside of mannequin and fake arms--for blood draws, starting IVs and practicing giving meds. This week begins week 5 of the fall semester and I am SO busy! I am taking obstetrics, pediatrics and medical/surgical 1 and 2, with theory classes on Mon and Fri and clinicals on Tue, Wed, Thur. Tue is the longest day med/surg 7am-7pm, Wed--OB 7am-2pm, Thur--Peds 2pm-9pm. Each site offers something different but by far my favorites have been labor and delivery, postpartum and the pediatric intensive care unit (PICU)--in that order. I've had the opportunity to see a baby be born, draw blood, administer medications (IV, oral and injection), catheterize and provide wound care (changing dressings) to name a few of the more exciting things.
In med/surg we usually stay on one floor but we get the chance to go to the rehab floor (PT/OT), the OR (I'm SOOOOO excited, I may get to watch an open heart or transplant!!) and oncology. I've had a variety of patients but for the most part I don't really enjoy med/surg--maybe it's just the floor I work on but it's so depressing, especially when the patients are getting terminal diagnoses. The one patient that really bummed me out was a 21 yr old guy who was transferrred from Guatamala for complications from a gall bladder removal. He looked like a Holocaust survivor--he hadn't been able to eat and weighed 81lbs. He was also in lots of pain but his Nurse Practioner wouldn't prescribe him IV morphine because she didn't want him to get used to IV meds since they wouldn't have them in Guatamala. She prescribed oral meds but he refused them because he wasn't able to eat anything and they cause upset stomach. It was upsetting/frustrating. But the worst part was that before he'd had his gall bladder removed he had NO medical history, awful. I knew from the get-go it wasn't a place I was going to want to work but it has been a good/interesting experience so far--but 12 hr shifts are so LONG!
With OB we go to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU), labor and delivery, triage, postpartum, outpatient clinic and mammograms. This week will be my first week in the NICU and I'm excited! L&D was an amazing experience (nurses only have 1 patient), the patient I was assigned to was supposed to deliver vaginally but ended requesting a c-section. I think I was more excited about the baby than the mom, it was just so cool that a second before there was nothing and then there was a whole new life in the room. I was also able to hold the baby for nearly an hr and I will point out that the baby was a honkin 10lb 12oz!!!!!! My arms were sore the next day.
In postpartum I did my first blood draw and I got it on the first try! It was really nice, I liked the pace. It has been the once place where I felt like I could handle having more than one patient at a time. The nurses tend to have 4-5 patients. It was kind of a relaxing floor, letting the patients rest and bond with their babies. I was really nervous to do a postpartum assessment and newborn assessment but they went over just fine and my patient was very understanding. It was also really exciting that when she asked me questions I actually KNEW the answers!!! And fortunately nobody hemorrhaged while I was on the floor--some of the other girls both had patients that started massively hemorrhaging their first day on the floor.
In mammograms I observed several different procedures and the radiologist on call that day was amazing. He explained all the procedures to me (even though I didn't understand half of what he said), made sure I could see and let me ask questions. It's always nice to have people willing to teach you things. The day I was in triage was fortunately a busy day. I walked patients back to their rooms and asked them why they were there. You'd think they'd all be coming in in labor--not so. One woman came in pregnant with twins at 36 wks for a fetal stress test, another woman came in because she'd been side-swiped and they wanted to monitor the baby, one woman came in because she was very sick with a cold and they wanted to monitor the baby, the other women that came in were either in active labor or the early stages of labor. We sent one woman home because she was not progressing which was unfortunate for her because she lived in Rockford--a good 2 hr drive.
Another woman who came in in labor was just truly unpleasant--We asked what brought her in and she snapped "Are you kidding me?!" We weren't. We then proceeded to get her into her room, asked some questions and left for a bit. When we returned the nurse flipped on the light and the patient barked "you could've warned me!" We had to start her IV because she needed penicillin as she was positive for a bacteria that can be very dangerous to babies as they're born and a blood draw. The needle my nurse used was HUGE and she blew the vein on attempt number one, which caused an instant goose egg. So she had to stick the woman again and as we walked out the nurse said "well that's not how that was supposed to go, I didn't use lidocaine because she was being such a snot." Ouch. Another patient knew NOTHING about her pregnancy--not her due date, her doctor, how much weight she'd gain (which I'd know down to the ounce). The only thing she knew was that she was high risk because the doctors suspected a heart defect--she was the one we sent home because despite contractions she hadn't progressed after an hr of walking around.
Peds we also get to have off-floor experiences in the PICU, NICU and pediatric ER. I've been to the PICU and I'll be going to either the NICU or Peds ER this week. I absolutely loved the PICU, the nurses only have 1-2 patients at a time (in med/surg they tend to have 5-6) and there is always something to do. The nurse I was paired with was very helpful and taught me a lot. She also let me do a straight catheterization--it doesn't stay in--on one of her patients. A 6 yr old boy who had come in after his mom had hit a parked construction truck--she was high. When the paramedics arrived he had no heartbeat but they resuscitated him and brought him to the PICU where he proceeded to code/crash on and off for 12 hrs. He was in the front seat of the car and suffered such severe whiplash that his spine was almost completely separated. He was trached and on a ventilator with minimal brain function. It was very hard to see the hardest part was that he moved in response to touch, despite being completely paralyzed. They were spinal reflexes but try explaining that to the grandmother who sees that and thinks he may be coming back. Despite that sad story and the 5 yr old patient who died last week I still liked it.
My second week on the floor I had a patient that didn't arrive until 5pm--we go off the floor at 7pm. So I wandered around and helped people where they needed it. Including helping a nurse do a blood draw on the strongest 2 yr old I've ever met; AND he was in almost a full body cast. Ridiculous. The following week as I went to flush my 3 yr old patient's IV line with water her started screaming, so I stopped. Then my instructor tried and stopped when he started screaming again. The nurse came in and told us to go ahead, sometimes they just get startled because the water is cold under their skin. It was not the case. When I pushed the 3mL water in--to more screams--all of a sudden both my instructor and the nurse called out 'stop stop!' I'd already put it all in but then I saw the bubble in his arm. His IV was infiltrated--the line had slipped out of his vein and all the water went into his skin, which is very painful. I felt horrible, though I know what it looks like and sounds like for the future. I got back on my patient's good side with chocolate milk and mac-n-cheese.
Last week I was just on the floor and I had the most difficult patient on the floor. He had come in with pressure ulcers--having been born with down's. He had a stroke that ended with a massive brain bleed and left him unresponsive. He ended up getting surgery for his sores but while I was caring for him they suspected he had developed blood clots in both legs. I gave him a feed through a tube that goes straight into his stomach. He was also trached and required suctioning--which I got to do, as well as trach care (cleaning the part that sits in the neck, replacing the ties that keep the plastic plate in place) While I was doing that with my instructor, and being observed by 4-5 other classmates, his grandmother walked in and looked mad. Unfortunately it took a long time to get the new ties in place because his body was very stiff from having not moved in so long. When we finally finished 2 girls stuck around with me so we could change his sheet. But it was not meant to be a smooth process. The sheet was stuck to his surgical wound/staples, so we were spraying the sheet and wound with a special product that was supposed to help loosen the sheet. But it wasn't working so I told the other girls to stop and went to get the nurse--who sent in the tech. When I got back in the sheet had unstuck so we got the old one out from under him--slowly and gently because we didn't want to make anything worse. Then the grandmother got more mad and called out "this is taking too long, where's the nurse?" None of use answered because we were focused, so she left the room and got the nurse. Upon re-entering with the nurse she shouted at her "this is taking too long, there are too many people in the room, they don't know what they're doing and we said we didn't want any students with him." So we repositioned the kid and I got out of there as quickly as possible. It was a frustrating and upsetting experience. Not because the grandmother didn't want students--that's fine, I completely understand--but because she said I didn't know what I was doing, when I was doing everything I could to keep him from getting hurt and because my nurse didn't come to help when I asked. And it wasn't the first time that day.
It seems like I have a lot of horrible experiences but every week has its ups and downs, and I'm still trying to get comfortable doing everything. I have been enjoying myself despite some of the bad days. The hardest thing at the moment is finding the time to do all the paperwork I have for clinicals, sleep, eat and study for exams. It will be wonderful when I'm done with all this paper writing business. I just volunteered to work a health fair on the south side of Chicago giving flu shots, BMI, BP, wellness screenings, that kind of thing. Should be interesting to say the least. Sorry this is SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO long but I had a lot to catch you up on.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Lost in Translation
I feel like not so many funny things have been happening to me lately. This morning I think I realized its because I'm not working at my old place. Life without so much stress is so TAME!
On Tuesday one of my dear friends (and former coworkers) arrived in Chicago to begin a new visa term with the "old place." She is from Morocco and had nearly a 48-hour endeavor to get here, before she was deposited safely onto the air mattress we set up for her in our apartment until she has a chance to find her own place. Despite the exhaustion we chatted until the wee hours of the morning, before I made myself go to bed, knowing I would have to be up for work at the crack of dawn. Before I left in the morning, I drew her a map to get to the train station, left her some cash (I didn't even know if she'd gotten to change money yet!), and then I scooted out the door.
When I got home later, Awatif was not there because she had to go and teach her first class in the afternoon. We got dinner all ready knowing she would be tired when she got home, but I expected her to arrive around 6:30 pm. At 7:15 when she still hadn't arrived, I started to get worried. What if she hadn't oriented herself well and didn't know how to get to my house? She didn't have an active cell phone yet, so there was no way to be in contact with her. I started calling former coworkers who might be able to tip me off as to her whereabouts. And of course, no one answered their phone. Finally I called the COO of the company (a good friend while I worked there, but I hadn't been in touch in at least a year) and left a message:
Hi Ken, it's me. Hope you're well. Listen, I'm calling because I'm just being a worried mom tonight. Awatif is staying with me for a few weeks, and she hasn't gotten home yet. She can't call me, so I just want to find someone who might know where she is. Blah blah blah, call me when you get this message.
Awatif arrived later, no problem, rolling her eyes that I worried so much. (I guess she IS 30 years old, and has lived in Chicago for 4 years before going back to Morocco this past year...)
Anyway, Ken called me back this morning while I was on the train on my way to work. I answered the phone and was hit with a torrent of words:
Caitlyn! I couldn't hear your message so well, but I heard you're a mom! Congratulations!! I didn't even know you were expecting! Are you married? Well, I already sent an email to the whole team telling them the good news, and everyone was so surprised!!
If I had been still sleepy before I got that call, I was fully awake by then! As I tried to interject, he rambled on, When I sent a message to your mom, she was pretty surprised too!
And then I realized he was pulling my leg. Good grief! What a way to start the day. No coffee necessary.
On Tuesday one of my dear friends (and former coworkers) arrived in Chicago to begin a new visa term with the "old place." She is from Morocco and had nearly a 48-hour endeavor to get here, before she was deposited safely onto the air mattress we set up for her in our apartment until she has a chance to find her own place. Despite the exhaustion we chatted until the wee hours of the morning, before I made myself go to bed, knowing I would have to be up for work at the crack of dawn. Before I left in the morning, I drew her a map to get to the train station, left her some cash (I didn't even know if she'd gotten to change money yet!), and then I scooted out the door.
When I got home later, Awatif was not there because she had to go and teach her first class in the afternoon. We got dinner all ready knowing she would be tired when she got home, but I expected her to arrive around 6:30 pm. At 7:15 when she still hadn't arrived, I started to get worried. What if she hadn't oriented herself well and didn't know how to get to my house? She didn't have an active cell phone yet, so there was no way to be in contact with her. I started calling former coworkers who might be able to tip me off as to her whereabouts. And of course, no one answered their phone. Finally I called the COO of the company (a good friend while I worked there, but I hadn't been in touch in at least a year) and left a message:
Hi Ken, it's me. Hope you're well. Listen, I'm calling because I'm just being a worried mom tonight. Awatif is staying with me for a few weeks, and she hasn't gotten home yet. She can't call me, so I just want to find someone who might know where she is. Blah blah blah, call me when you get this message.
Awatif arrived later, no problem, rolling her eyes that I worried so much. (I guess she IS 30 years old, and has lived in Chicago for 4 years before going back to Morocco this past year...)
Anyway, Ken called me back this morning while I was on the train on my way to work. I answered the phone and was hit with a torrent of words:
Caitlyn! I couldn't hear your message so well, but I heard you're a mom! Congratulations!! I didn't even know you were expecting! Are you married? Well, I already sent an email to the whole team telling them the good news, and everyone was so surprised!!
If I had been still sleepy before I got that call, I was fully awake by then! As I tried to interject, he rambled on, When I sent a message to your mom, she was pretty surprised too!
And then I realized he was pulling my leg. Good grief! What a way to start the day. No coffee necessary.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Spontaneous Combustion
Last weekend our bathroom fell apart. Sunday morning Emily walked into the bathroom and flipped on the light. It popped and sizzled and flashed and then fell dark. Lightbulb gone.
Sunday evening I crawled out of the most relaxing "glory bath" (as Dad calls it). I pulled open the door and before I knew what had happened, I was standing there with the doorknob in my hand and the door was no longer attached. The other side of the antique crystal knob hit the floor with a thud. Luckily the door also opened or I would have had a big problem.
Monday morning our houseguest emerged from our dark, doorknobless bathroom to delicately inform us that our toilet was overflowing onto the tile floor. Within seconds water was pouring out into the hall onto our hardwood floor.
Coincidence? The jury is out.
Sunday evening I crawled out of the most relaxing "glory bath" (as Dad calls it). I pulled open the door and before I knew what had happened, I was standing there with the doorknob in my hand and the door was no longer attached. The other side of the antique crystal knob hit the floor with a thud. Luckily the door also opened or I would have had a big problem.
Monday morning our houseguest emerged from our dark, doorknobless bathroom to delicately inform us that our toilet was overflowing onto the tile floor. Within seconds water was pouring out into the hall onto our hardwood floor.
Coincidence? The jury is out.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Playmates
One of my favorite things to do is wear orange jewelery with blue or green outfits. Matching is so conventional! In Spanish the translation for "this matches that" literally translates back to English as "this plays with that." Isn't that so much better? My orange and blue don't match, but they play well together.
It's the small things.
It's the small things.
Sunday, September 06, 2009
Berry UMC
After a somewhat bitter hiatus from the church, I have, shall we say, returned to the flock. Over the last year or so, I'd thought about trying to find a church in the city and I visited a few but it just never stuck. For a few reasons:
1) I'd gotten out of the habit of having Sundays available to go, and I would forget or just had things pulling me in other directions.
2) Urban churches tend to have a skewed demographic of young people. I really like having a mix of ages and generations because I think that's where the wisdom comes from. Most families with school-aged kids and mature adults live in the suburbs.
3) I visited a few, but came away feeling so so.
A few weeks ago, I visited a church called Berry about a 15-20 minute walk from my house, where I had previously been to see a play in the basement. Amazingly, on my first visit someone actually came up and introduced herself to me. She invited me to coffee hour and introduced me to several other people. The church is smallish and old--celebrating 100 years next week, and when I came back the next week they remembered me.
The pastor is a grandmotherly woman with kind eyes and a warm heart, and she started this week's sermon by saying, "I want everyone to just take a moment and think about the deepest desire of your heart this morning. That thing that your heart is just wrapped around right now." She paused and then continued, "sometimes we lose touch with that because we are so busy defending ourselves from being let down." BAM! Hit the nail right on the head for me this morning.
Her husband is a drawing and painting professor at a University in the neighborhood. Considering that, the fact that the Lincoln Square Theatre Company is housed in their basement, and that the music during the service is played by a motley rotating ensemble--guitar, piano, viola, violin, harmonica, and hand drum, it seems to be quite a creative congregation.
At the conclusion of every service there is a hymn that serves to send people back out into their lives. They pause while the ushers go to the front of the church to collect the crates of percussion instruments and walk down the aisles letting everyone take their pick. This morning I reached in and pulled out the first thing my hand touched. It was a plastic shaker in the shape of a cucumber. I was feeling a little self-conscious until I saw the lady in front of me was shaking a banana. The harmonica and the rest of the music wailed as we all sang, and shook, and the pastor and kids danced with tambourines in the front. It's hard to maintain a sour attitude with all that joy smacking you right in the face!
1) I'd gotten out of the habit of having Sundays available to go, and I would forget or just had things pulling me in other directions.
2) Urban churches tend to have a skewed demographic of young people. I really like having a mix of ages and generations because I think that's where the wisdom comes from. Most families with school-aged kids and mature adults live in the suburbs.
3) I visited a few, but came away feeling so so.
A few weeks ago, I visited a church called Berry about a 15-20 minute walk from my house, where I had previously been to see a play in the basement. Amazingly, on my first visit someone actually came up and introduced herself to me. She invited me to coffee hour and introduced me to several other people. The church is smallish and old--celebrating 100 years next week, and when I came back the next week they remembered me.
The pastor is a grandmotherly woman with kind eyes and a warm heart, and she started this week's sermon by saying, "I want everyone to just take a moment and think about the deepest desire of your heart this morning. That thing that your heart is just wrapped around right now." She paused and then continued, "sometimes we lose touch with that because we are so busy defending ourselves from being let down." BAM! Hit the nail right on the head for me this morning.
Her husband is a drawing and painting professor at a University in the neighborhood. Considering that, the fact that the Lincoln Square Theatre Company is housed in their basement, and that the music during the service is played by a motley rotating ensemble--guitar, piano, viola, violin, harmonica, and hand drum, it seems to be quite a creative congregation.
At the conclusion of every service there is a hymn that serves to send people back out into their lives. They pause while the ushers go to the front of the church to collect the crates of percussion instruments and walk down the aisles letting everyone take their pick. This morning I reached in and pulled out the first thing my hand touched. It was a plastic shaker in the shape of a cucumber. I was feeling a little self-conscious until I saw the lady in front of me was shaking a banana. The harmonica and the rest of the music wailed as we all sang, and shook, and the pastor and kids danced with tambourines in the front. It's hard to maintain a sour attitude with all that joy smacking you right in the face!
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Toby's new trick
Check it out. We were so grateful to have my sisters (and Mike, of course) helping us out on the long car ride to Colorado. It definitely saved our sanity. This is the new trick that Caitlyn taught him.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Gem Lake & Hole in the Sole
Wednesday we finally made our regular hike up to Gem Lake. Along the way there are terrific views out over Longs Peak and Estes Park from various points on the mountainside. There is also a particular rock shaped like a foot with a hole through the middle. When Jen, Caitlyn, and Laura were first coming up here we would have then slide through the "hole in the sole". Now it's Elinore's turn!
Monday, August 10, 2009
YMCA of the Rockies
We arrived safe after about a 19 hour drive stretched out over two days. Altitude at our cabin is 8300 ft so we've taken a day to acclimate. We rode up Fall River Road, a twisty, winding dirt road going up and along the continental divide. Maximum altitude was 12,300 ft and we all felt the thin air and cold wind. We ate lunch on an outcrop of rocks with a 360 deg view of miles and miles of mountains. All is well except for some minor cases of wind burn and feeling wiped out.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
Just had to share this.
This weekend when Mom and Dad were here we played some games. We were playing sequence and luck seemed to be going my way. Dad, in a moment of sequence despair, picked up the origami bird he had made with Elinore earlier in the day. He held it over my blue playing chips and said, “May the bluebird of happiness crap on your pieces.”
I am still laughing.
I won the game.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Family Band
Toby has been practising for the Bodine Family Band. His specialty is the sliding whistle, and to fit his personality he plays while running around the room. Never a slow moment for our boy!
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
The Story of Stuff
While in Texas reconnecting with old friends this weekend, we noticed some trash on the ground. I picked it up saying that I didn't want to harm the earth. Matt nonchalantly declared, "I'm for littering." I looked at him surprised. Being one of my incredibly eco-conscious friends, I figured he must be joking.
"It's going into the earth anyway," he explained. "But if it's here, at least we see it."
Interesting concept. If we had to live among our trash would we produce less?
I just watched a really interesting video clip called the Story of Stuff. A little heavy-handed, but it included some eye-opening facts. I recommend watching it.
"It's going into the earth anyway," he explained. "But if it's here, at least we see it."
Interesting concept. If we had to live among our trash would we produce less?
I just watched a really interesting video clip called the Story of Stuff. A little heavy-handed, but it included some eye-opening facts. I recommend watching it.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
2009 Catch Your Breath 5K
This weekend was the annual Catch Your Breath Womens' 5K and 10K fest on Montrose Harbor, and I ran the 5K with 1100 other women from the Chicago area. Even though I only finished 6 seconds faster than my last time, it was still a personal best! The day was absolutely gorgeous for running-- in the 60s, sunny, a little wind. Because the race was so early in the day (due to the unpredictable weather) the lake was still glassy and calm. If you run slow enough to look around (which I do), it's really beautiful.
The backstory, however, is a little less polished. A series of interesting events led up to the race..
1. I took the plunge and invested in real running shoes. I got fitted at the running store by the professionals who had me running around the store and up and down the block to assess my gait and fit. All went smoothly until my sales associate suggested that I also take the time to be fitted for a sports bra. Apparently after shoes, that is the second most-important piece of running equipment for women, and it is imperative to get the right fit. I said sure and then followed the woman around the store as she explained bra types and loaded up on different models for me to try on.
She waited outside the dressing room, so she could examine how each bra fit. After rejecting the first one--too big, I tried on the next. 3/4 of the way in I realized that this bra was too small. No need to put it all the way on, but when I tried to pull it off, it had practically adhered to my skin. I twisted and contorted into all sorts of directions trying to get a good hold on this bra that had glued itself to me and I COULD NOT get it off! The woman called out, "did you get another one on?"
I laughed sheepishly, "well.. yes, but now I can't get it off.."
"Oh!" she said.
I was half cracking up alone in the dressing room and half starting to hyperventilate about not being able to get this sports bra off. I tugged and tugged, but my skin was a little sticky from the store being warm and my exertion from trying to extract myself.
"Um, if I can't get it off, I probably have to buy it, right?" I asked, now finding this totally hilarious.
"I'll give you a moment," she said politely, clearly indulging me.
I took a rest, and finally exerting all the shoulder and arm strength and flexibility I could muster, freed myself! Fresh air poured into my lungs and tears streamed down my cheeks. Just kidding, but I sure was happy to not have to cut the thing off!
I decided not to try on anymore.
2. On the eve of the race, my friend and I went to the salsa dance in the park event downtown. It was not going to be a late night, so we thought nothing of it. But after 3 hours of dancing in high heels, we limped back to the train station cursing ourselves all the way for torturing our feet and ankles the night before the race. Once home we sat on the edge of the tub eating banana bread and soaking our feet in warm water. We then decided the best course of action would be to sleep with our feet elevated.
3. Morning of the race, the feet had made somewhat of a recovery, and we sleepily got dressed for the race. I finally had some actual running attire, so I didn't look (in Laura's words) "like a hobo walking down the street who said, 'oh look! a race' and joined in." However just before walking out the door, I realized my snazzy running pants were on inside out.
Clearly I'm still just a hobo in fancy clothes.
The backstory, however, is a little less polished. A series of interesting events led up to the race..
1. I took the plunge and invested in real running shoes. I got fitted at the running store by the professionals who had me running around the store and up and down the block to assess my gait and fit. All went smoothly until my sales associate suggested that I also take the time to be fitted for a sports bra. Apparently after shoes, that is the second most-important piece of running equipment for women, and it is imperative to get the right fit. I said sure and then followed the woman around the store as she explained bra types and loaded up on different models for me to try on.
She waited outside the dressing room, so she could examine how each bra fit. After rejecting the first one--too big, I tried on the next. 3/4 of the way in I realized that this bra was too small. No need to put it all the way on, but when I tried to pull it off, it had practically adhered to my skin. I twisted and contorted into all sorts of directions trying to get a good hold on this bra that had glued itself to me and I COULD NOT get it off! The woman called out, "did you get another one on?"
I laughed sheepishly, "well.. yes, but now I can't get it off.."
"Oh!" she said.
I was half cracking up alone in the dressing room and half starting to hyperventilate about not being able to get this sports bra off. I tugged and tugged, but my skin was a little sticky from the store being warm and my exertion from trying to extract myself.
"Um, if I can't get it off, I probably have to buy it, right?" I asked, now finding this totally hilarious.
"I'll give you a moment," she said politely, clearly indulging me.
I took a rest, and finally exerting all the shoulder and arm strength and flexibility I could muster, freed myself! Fresh air poured into my lungs and tears streamed down my cheeks. Just kidding, but I sure was happy to not have to cut the thing off!
I decided not to try on anymore.
2. On the eve of the race, my friend and I went to the salsa dance in the park event downtown. It was not going to be a late night, so we thought nothing of it. But after 3 hours of dancing in high heels, we limped back to the train station cursing ourselves all the way for torturing our feet and ankles the night before the race. Once home we sat on the edge of the tub eating banana bread and soaking our feet in warm water. We then decided the best course of action would be to sleep with our feet elevated.
3. Morning of the race, the feet had made somewhat of a recovery, and we sleepily got dressed for the race. I finally had some actual running attire, so I didn't look (in Laura's words) "like a hobo walking down the street who said, 'oh look! a race' and joined in." However just before walking out the door, I realized my snazzy running pants were on inside out.
Clearly I'm still just a hobo in fancy clothes.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Tango
For those of you who watch Dancing With the Stars or So You Think You Can Dance, this is not that! This is social tango. The kind where someone comes up to you and says, "Would you like to dance?" and you say, "okay"--
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
An Elemental Day
I had to have a little distance before blogging about this, that's why it's about 2-3 weeks delayed.
One Friday afternoon with plans to go to the Botanic Garden to smell the roses, I left work at my usual time and boarded my usual train. Things were going smashingly until...
One stop after I boarded, just before pulling into the station, we heard an awful grating noise that seemed to come from underneath the train. Everyone began to shuffle uncomfortably. Then we heard the noise again, and subsequently the train powered down and we stopped moving. It became eerily silent, and then we heard the noise again. People were really getting restless now, and suddenly a passenger sitting in a window seat called out, "the train's on fire!"
There was a moment where we, the passengers, seemed to collectively hesitate between panic and waiting calmly for instruction from the CTA Authority over the loudspeaker. None came, and instantly, someone pulled the emergency door release. We were almost all the way into the station, so all the cars but the last were able to step out onto the platform. I think the last car (where the sparks/flames were coming from) had to file into the next car to get out. There was a certain amount of chaos as people scrambled out the doors and ran down the smokey platform. Still, there was no direction or announcement from the CTA. It was unclear whether we were supposed to run as far away as possible because the train might explode, or if we were just supposed to sit tight and wait to be told what to do.
Luckily no one was hurt, and the flames only appeared while the grating noise was happening. The firemen walked in and out of the scene in a flash, and the rest of us waited in puzzlement without a word (in the entire 30 minutes that I waited) from the CTA about what was going on or that northbound trains were delayed, etc. I placed a few harried phone calls to my fellow Botanic Garden-bound friends relaying the info that I would miss my connecting train, etc, and we came up with a new plan of escape.
Later that evening, after our train dropped us a mile's walk from the Garden, all was peace and love as we smothered ourselves in roses of countless varieties and colors. They were beautiful even as stormy skies threatened overhead. As we ventured deeper and deeper into the garden, we began to hear the distant rumble of thunder. Then slowly the sky began to flash with lightning. When the drops started falling we contented ourselves with peering at the bonsai collection from under our umbrellas. But then our umbrellas began to fail us. The rain was too strong! We ducked inside a building with connecting greenhouses to wait it out.
And we waited. And waited... And waited. Then we began to wonder if this wasn't the second great flood that God was sending to wipe out all but Noah and his crew. We emerged from the building under a tent and watched amazed as the rain fell so hard and so fast that we could neither hear ourselves talk (unless we were singing operatic arias ;) ) nor see more than 10 feet beyond the edge of the tent.
It was getting late, and the moment the rain lightened a little we dashed down the path to the Visitors' Center knowing that the Garden closes at sunset, and no one knew we were still inside. Thankfully the visitors' center was still opened and we picked up a train schedule. Unfortunately we still had a mile back up the hill to the train station. Taxis were delayed because of the stormy weather, so we had no choice but to walk. We wandered back down the pedestrian trail to the edge of the garden-- a good 10-15 minute walk--, only to discover, to our dismay, that the gate was locked! We edged along the fence (through the hedge, I might add) trying to find a hole in the border where we could escape, but no luck! We were locked in! With too little time to go back to the visitors' center if we wanted to make the train to Chicago, we had no choice. We had to climb.
And climb we did--over a wet, 8-ft, chainlink fence. I was the first one over, while one friend held my purse and umbrella and the other worried below. When I got to the very top, I became momentarily entangled in a snarl of low-lying limbs, and I was laughing so hard that I was sure I'd fall to my death. However, one by one we made it over and began our trek up the hill. Normally, up the hill would be no problem at all, but on a day like that with the enormous amount of rain that fell in the span of an hour or two, the sidewalk was an actual, ankle-deep river. We were absolutely sopping wet.
Surely, once we reached the top of the hill we would get some reprieve from the rushing water cascading over our feet. Not so. At the top, the water covered not only the sidewalk, but the entire road and beyond. Cars were barreling through hoping to avoid stalling in the middle, and each time they sent waves lapping at our shins. There was no way to go around it, so we waded in. The water got deeper and deeper until it was up to our knees! A boy and his dad were playing in their driveway, and the boy was waist-deep! I thought of alligators and water snakes, and drudged through as quick as I could.
We made it onto the train, and shivered all the way home in the air-conditioning. Finally home, I stripped off the wet clothes and jumped into bed. I don't think I moved until morning.
An eventful day, if I may. I think my shoes will never be the same.
One Friday afternoon with plans to go to the Botanic Garden to smell the roses, I left work at my usual time and boarded my usual train. Things were going smashingly until...
One stop after I boarded, just before pulling into the station, we heard an awful grating noise that seemed to come from underneath the train. Everyone began to shuffle uncomfortably. Then we heard the noise again, and subsequently the train powered down and we stopped moving. It became eerily silent, and then we heard the noise again. People were really getting restless now, and suddenly a passenger sitting in a window seat called out, "the train's on fire!"
There was a moment where we, the passengers, seemed to collectively hesitate between panic and waiting calmly for instruction from the CTA Authority over the loudspeaker. None came, and instantly, someone pulled the emergency door release. We were almost all the way into the station, so all the cars but the last were able to step out onto the platform. I think the last car (where the sparks/flames were coming from) had to file into the next car to get out. There was a certain amount of chaos as people scrambled out the doors and ran down the smokey platform. Still, there was no direction or announcement from the CTA. It was unclear whether we were supposed to run as far away as possible because the train might explode, or if we were just supposed to sit tight and wait to be told what to do.
Luckily no one was hurt, and the flames only appeared while the grating noise was happening. The firemen walked in and out of the scene in a flash, and the rest of us waited in puzzlement without a word (in the entire 30 minutes that I waited) from the CTA about what was going on or that northbound trains were delayed, etc. I placed a few harried phone calls to my fellow Botanic Garden-bound friends relaying the info that I would miss my connecting train, etc, and we came up with a new plan of escape.
Later that evening, after our train dropped us a mile's walk from the Garden, all was peace and love as we smothered ourselves in roses of countless varieties and colors. They were beautiful even as stormy skies threatened overhead. As we ventured deeper and deeper into the garden, we began to hear the distant rumble of thunder. Then slowly the sky began to flash with lightning. When the drops started falling we contented ourselves with peering at the bonsai collection from under our umbrellas. But then our umbrellas began to fail us. The rain was too strong! We ducked inside a building with connecting greenhouses to wait it out.
And we waited. And waited... And waited. Then we began to wonder if this wasn't the second great flood that God was sending to wipe out all but Noah and his crew. We emerged from the building under a tent and watched amazed as the rain fell so hard and so fast that we could neither hear ourselves talk (unless we were singing operatic arias ;) ) nor see more than 10 feet beyond the edge of the tent.
It was getting late, and the moment the rain lightened a little we dashed down the path to the Visitors' Center knowing that the Garden closes at sunset, and no one knew we were still inside. Thankfully the visitors' center was still opened and we picked up a train schedule. Unfortunately we still had a mile back up the hill to the train station. Taxis were delayed because of the stormy weather, so we had no choice but to walk. We wandered back down the pedestrian trail to the edge of the garden-- a good 10-15 minute walk--, only to discover, to our dismay, that the gate was locked! We edged along the fence (through the hedge, I might add) trying to find a hole in the border where we could escape, but no luck! We were locked in! With too little time to go back to the visitors' center if we wanted to make the train to Chicago, we had no choice. We had to climb.
And climb we did--over a wet, 8-ft, chainlink fence. I was the first one over, while one friend held my purse and umbrella and the other worried below. When I got to the very top, I became momentarily entangled in a snarl of low-lying limbs, and I was laughing so hard that I was sure I'd fall to my death. However, one by one we made it over and began our trek up the hill. Normally, up the hill would be no problem at all, but on a day like that with the enormous amount of rain that fell in the span of an hour or two, the sidewalk was an actual, ankle-deep river. We were absolutely sopping wet.
Surely, once we reached the top of the hill we would get some reprieve from the rushing water cascading over our feet. Not so. At the top, the water covered not only the sidewalk, but the entire road and beyond. Cars were barreling through hoping to avoid stalling in the middle, and each time they sent waves lapping at our shins. There was no way to go around it, so we waded in. The water got deeper and deeper until it was up to our knees! A boy and his dad were playing in their driveway, and the boy was waist-deep! I thought of alligators and water snakes, and drudged through as quick as I could.
We made it onto the train, and shivered all the way home in the air-conditioning. Finally home, I stripped off the wet clothes and jumped into bed. I don't think I moved until morning.
An eventful day, if I may. I think my shoes will never be the same.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Canoe Safety 101
Things Laura and I learned on today's canoe trip down the Fox River. Or better put, common sense things that we wish we'd remembered before launching:- tie everything to the boat
- always wear your lifejacket (even on a class 1 river, even if you look silly, even if you're hot, even if you'll get tan lines)
- study a map before launching. (there might be valuable notes like: rapids--stay left.)
- try not to carry things like wallets and car keys, but if it's unavoidable, refer back to #1
- stay together. (especially if you have inexperienced canoers in your fleet)
- pack extra lunch for friends who might have forgotten #1
- if it looks like you might die, let go of the boat
- heavily apply sunscreen to the thighs
We survived, despite our initial negligence of the aforementioned tips. There was a moment when we had to fight to emerge from the river -- boatless, paddleless, lifejacketless, lunchless, soggy, pumping adrenaline, and thankful to be breathing air and in one piece. We have since arrived home, showered, lathered up the aloe, and are both silently contemplating our next hard core adventurous undertaking. Perhaps power-knitting or a chili cookoff...
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
A Day's Work
I have officially completed my first student piano recital! Actually make that two. Since joining up with a team of other music teachers and incorporating our very own music studio, we are now shaping the musical talents of 50 some children! 41 children performed on this Spring recital, so we ended up splitting the performers over 2 days.
Last night and tonight were the first recital experiences for not only me, but all of my students as well. Every single one of them performed. Even the ones who initially told either me or their moms that they didn't want to. I, however, didn't really give them the option. I made it clear to all the parents that I wouldn't force anyone, but I would proceed in their lessons coaching and preparing them to perform. I never asked anyone if they "wanted" to perform, I just assumed they would.
Two students in particular were very reluctant. Zoe's school music teacher called me after the school's Musical Talent Day to explain how Zoe had lost it and broke down sobbing after only two of her peers had performed because she was so nervous. She was only able to come back in after all the other students had left. I thought of all the inspiring and teacher-ey things I could and delivered a pep-talk fit for a king. Paige flat out refused to play from the moment she walked in the door of the church this evening. But we compromised. I agreed to give her introduction speech for her (hello, I'm XX and I will play XX by XX.), and she agreed to play as long as she didn't have to bow. Fine.
Both walked right up to the piano when it was their turn and nailed it! I was so proud! Yes, I was the soccer mom who couldn't help but give standing ovations to all her kids! Ok, I didn't really give standing ovations, but my pride was pretty much oozing over the pew and into the aisle. The next kid had to step over it as they walked up to the piano.
My youngest student bombed. And it was only later that I realized it was because he put his two pages of music up in the wrong order! Thankfully we figured it out and gave him an encore performance at the end.
We adjourned to much applause and a celebratory reception where the post-bedtime kids gobbled up all the sugar they could get their hands on and the parents chatted away while the wine flowed freely. Just before they left, Rylie came up to me. "Miss Caitlyn," she said, "one of the things I want to be when I grow up is a piano teacher."
I love my job!
Last night and tonight were the first recital experiences for not only me, but all of my students as well. Every single one of them performed. Even the ones who initially told either me or their moms that they didn't want to. I, however, didn't really give them the option. I made it clear to all the parents that I wouldn't force anyone, but I would proceed in their lessons coaching and preparing them to perform. I never asked anyone if they "wanted" to perform, I just assumed they would.
Two students in particular were very reluctant. Zoe's school music teacher called me after the school's Musical Talent Day to explain how Zoe had lost it and broke down sobbing after only two of her peers had performed because she was so nervous. She was only able to come back in after all the other students had left. I thought of all the inspiring and teacher-ey things I could and delivered a pep-talk fit for a king. Paige flat out refused to play from the moment she walked in the door of the church this evening. But we compromised. I agreed to give her introduction speech for her (hello, I'm XX and I will play XX by XX.), and she agreed to play as long as she didn't have to bow. Fine.
Both walked right up to the piano when it was their turn and nailed it! I was so proud! Yes, I was the soccer mom who couldn't help but give standing ovations to all her kids! Ok, I didn't really give standing ovations, but my pride was pretty much oozing over the pew and into the aisle. The next kid had to step over it as they walked up to the piano.
My youngest student bombed. And it was only later that I realized it was because he put his two pages of music up in the wrong order! Thankfully we figured it out and gave him an encore performance at the end.
We adjourned to much applause and a celebratory reception where the post-bedtime kids gobbled up all the sugar they could get their hands on and the parents chatted away while the wine flowed freely. Just before they left, Rylie came up to me. "Miss Caitlyn," she said, "one of the things I want to be when I grow up is a piano teacher."
I love my job!
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Grandma Bodine goes airborne
On the memorable wedding day of Karen and Michael Vale, the spirit of adventure was soaring high. Grandma Bodine said she'd be willing to ride up on a parasail if someone could make the arrangements. Son Blue jumped at the challenge and without much chance to have a second thought, we were whisked away to pierside where a boat was waiting. The photos give proof to the feat of sailing high over Key Largo at age 
96! Not quite the hot air balloon ride she always wanted, but a perfect substitute.
96! Not quite the hot air balloon ride she always wanted, but a perfect substitute. Friday, June 12, 2009
Tango Revisited
I select my wardrobe for my tango class based on my mood. Sometimes I wear jeans, sometimes I wear slacks. Yesterday I wore my red gypsy skirt and decorated myself with lots of bangles and baubles. It was one of those days.
My gold bracelets jangled as my arm slid across my partner's shoulders. My skirt swirled around my legs as my foot skated across the floor, languidly brushing one ankle against the other. But before I could lose myself in the magic of the moment, I lifted my foot and pointed my toe in preparation for crossing my ankles decoratively.
At that moment, the heel of my saucy shoe snagged on one of the ruffles of my delicious gypsy skirt, and when I took that fatal step... my skirt followed suit. Let's just say that a few other dancers got an eyeful of a little more than they bargained for.
The story of my life continues..
My gold bracelets jangled as my arm slid across my partner's shoulders. My skirt swirled around my legs as my foot skated across the floor, languidly brushing one ankle against the other. But before I could lose myself in the magic of the moment, I lifted my foot and pointed my toe in preparation for crossing my ankles decoratively.
At that moment, the heel of my saucy shoe snagged on one of the ruffles of my delicious gypsy skirt, and when I took that fatal step... my skirt followed suit. Let's just say that a few other dancers got an eyeful of a little more than they bargained for.
The story of my life continues..
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