Grateful for the Gunk

Thanksgiving Day 2011 is two days away, and gratitude is on the minds and in the hearts of many. Yes, it's easy to be grateful for our loved ones, home, job, and yummy, fattening food. (Can I get a witness on stuffing?!) But, this time also offers us an opportunity to show gratitude for the crappy things in our lives, for they are often our greatest teachers. On this Thanksgiving holiday, I am grateful for the following yuckies:

* My super-fugly, pumpkin-colored stretch pants from Chadwick's of Boston, which remind me that one should never compare oneself to another (or buy pants from a discount catalog)

* Mom's passing, which reminds me to fully appreciate each day that I have been given

* Snowstorms in Minnesota, which remind me how friggin' incredible the summers can be

* Sprouting pimples at 42 years of age, which remind me when I have had more Starbucks than a human should possibly consume

* Struggling with paying bills, which reminds me how fortunate I am to even have bills; there are people on this planet who don't have food to eat much less an overdue Wells Fargo credit card statement

* My alcoholic ex-f@#$buddy that treated me like shit, who reminds me that I deserved a whole lot better (and got it)

* So-called personality conflicts with insecure ninnies, which reminds me that I don't have to take on other people's drama

* Computer crashes and broken routers, which remind me that life isn't about typing on a keyboard or staring at a screen

* Not being able to do the 'crane' pose in yoga (yet), which reminds me that I have come a long way from not being able to do any pose but Savasana

* My daughter's perpetually-dirty room, which reminds me of her creativity and individuality (and ingenious ways to hide candy wrappers)

* My smallness, which reminds me of what I still need to work on

Happy Thanksgiving, and celebrate your gunk, everybody!! It's what helped create the Beauty That Is You.

Downsizing My Hoop

Today was a momentous occasion: I hooped with my ten year-old daughter's hula hoop.

For those of you who aren't hoopers, you may say, "Big Whoop!". But, trust me. It IS a big friggin' whoop. I started out hula hooping over two years ago with a ginormous, heavy-as-hell hoop that was almost as tall as I was. When I first began, I couldn't keep that thing rotating around my larger-than-average girth to save my life. However, after swaying, shimmying, swearing, circling, and slamming for two long years, I am now able to hoop for an hour with a teeny, tiny, light-as-a-feather dance hoop that is suitable for a petite elementary schooler.

I LOVE LOVE LOVE it!!! The lighter hoop makes it easier to do crazy tricks like over-the-head tosses, around-the-body spins, and fun finger-hooping. (Yes, finger hooping.) I can't wait to practice it again tomorrow, as I know it will only get easier (as everything does when we just keep at it.)

I am eternally grateful to my darling daughter for lending me her sparkly dance hoop, and if she wants to get it back, she'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hoopy hands.

Kardashian-Free Living

Below are things I don't give a damn about:

* Kim Kardashian's wedding
* Kim Kardashian's wedding guests
* Kim Kardashian's wedding dress
* Kim Kardashian's tropical honeymoon
* Kim Kardashian's 72-day marriage
* Kim Kardashian's husband
* Kim Kardashian's divorce
* Kim Kardashian's pre-nup
* Kim Kardashian's wedding ring
* Kim Kardashian's reality show
* Kim Kardashian's recording career
* Kim Kardashian's handbag collection
* Kim Kardashian's bubble butt
* Kim Kardashian's sisters
* Kim Kardashian's dancing brother
* Kim Kardashian's mother
* Kim Kardashian's father
* Kim Kardashian's father-in-law
* Kim Kardashian's tweets
* Kim Kardashian's teets
* KIM KARDASHIAN

I hope for this woman's sake that she unplugs from the ridiculous media machine that has created her. Maybe then she'll have a fighting chance at true happiness.

I certainly will be happier when I see less of her.