In addition to farm veggies and grocery store greens, I added sprouts, flax seeds, and avocado. I stretched out my dressing portion by adding fresh squeezed lime juice and a citrus-infused vinegar. I tossed the salad in a bowl with the dressing until everything was evenly covered and perfectly wet with citrus Goddess flavors.
I spent over an hour rinsing, peeling, and cutting all my produce so it's ready to use throughout the week for juicing, stir-frying, and roasting. Kind of a hassle. But so worth it.
At dusk I took a walk on the beach, found four pieces of sea glass, and stopped to watch seagulls dig up crabs from under the rocks. It was low tide. I saw several large striped bass fish carcasses left behind by fishermen. I pocketed a dried-out crab shell, completely intact with his little dehydrated legs and claws, body, and head. Maybe he got carried in by a large solitary wave and couldn't make his way back to the water in time to beat the heat of the sun. Poor little guy. He's on my dashboard now as a cute little decoration.
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I mentioned yesterday that I saw a great movie Friday night. Well Saturday night was cool too. I joined Mr. D and his three girls at a family BBQ in Mystic, CT. I indulged in potato chips, crackers, hummus, potato salad, a cheeseburger, green beans, and a home-made fruit pastry dessert.
Before dinner, I watched Mr. D playing baseball in the yard with his three girls. For about an hour, he and Grandpa D took turns pitching wiffle balls to the girls. Mr. D and Grandpa D. gave constant reminders of proper form. Elbow out! Eye on the ball! Great hit! Run! Safe!
The two older girls are only six and seven. I was impressed by how well they hit the ball. Mr. D asked me to take a few swings, and I said No. I had an embarrassing moment in middle school with swinging a bat. The girls don't yet know how important these skills will be later on in gym class, a place where the cool are separated from the uncool. It's fine to flunk a test or get in trouble with a teacher, but it's not never cool to suck at gym.
When I was in sixth grade, gym class was awful. I would tell the P.E. teachers I had my period if I didn't like the activity. I should have done that when the softball unit began. We each lined up outside and took turns hitting a softball. The teachers pitched the balls underhand. I didn't think it would be all that hard to hit the ball. But they used a softball, and I was used to playing with a wiffle ball. We were given some posture instructions and told "swing hard." Everyone before me did a good job.
When it was my turn, I swung with all my might and did a three-sixty and face planted myself on the ground. I remember the popular girls looking wide-eyed at each other, and one girl named Sam Rushlaw awkwardly giggling and covering her face, as if embarrassed for me.
Sam went on to be a great softball player in high school. Good for her.
Luckily my parents moved away two years later, when I was in eighth grade. It was a nearby town, and I quickly made some new friends. They thought I was decent enough I guess. Until another embarrassing gym class moment.
I was walking around a dirt track behind the high school with my new friends. I saw some hurdles in the distance and got the urge to show off and jump over one. I'd never attempted a hurdle before. I don't know what made me think I could pull it off.
For whatever reason, I decided to go for it. I departed from my walking posse and started running a quarter lap to get momentum for the jump.
My first foot didn't even go over and I fell flat on my face. The hurdle fell between my legs and I just lay in the dirt for a while. My friend Kyle, who I'll devote a nice piece of writing to in a future blog, came and gave me a hand and helped me up. Others avoided eye contact with me for the rest of the day. It was just awful.
Most of my preteen memories have been forgotten, thank God. But it's not so easy to forget my teens and twenties, when I continued to run after things that were too big for me, and continued to fall flat on my face. I didn't calculate risks. I didn't consider consequences. I ran blindfolded. Like a moron. I didn't consider failure. I didn't think at all. Making mistakes that didn't have to be made. It's become the story of my life.
As much as I'd like to forget my awkward and clumsy twelve-year-old hormonal egocentric self, not much has changed. She's still in there, seeking attention, beckoning the world, "Look at me!" I'm still putting myself out there. Maybe I do have something to prove. I'm just not sure what it is yet.
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