<thursday january 22, 2004 - 11:00 a.m.>

The girls are camped out on the couch watching The Wiggles. Emma has memorized the script. I'm not kidding. If Mark stops the movie, she is able to recite the next line or two.

I'm not sure whether this makes me laugh or cry.

Will her fixation with movies result in a lifetime of under achievement, attention deficit disorder and permanent dark circles under her eyes? Or will she become a world-reknown critic whose opinion can make or break the success of a film? It will be interesting to see.

Little Sarah is sick today. She broke into a fever after we put her to bed last night. She has a raspy voice and a nasty cough. Poor little monkey, it's so sad to see.

This also means that this will be the second day that I get no work done. I am starting to feel more than a little squirrely and in need of some serious fun and distraction.

<sigh>

I just walked into the living room to see what the girls were doing, spurred by an odd slapping sound. I thought it would be good to investigate.

Emma was wearing my leather driving gloves. This is to help her not pick her fingernails.

Sarah, looking red-eyed and sickly, pointed to the television.

"Look, the Wiggles are in a rainbow!"
"Yes they are! Listen Sarah, would you like to drive through a rainbow some day?"
There was no hesitation.
"Yes," she answered. "A great big fat one!"

And you know what, I truly wish she could.

a

<tuesday january 20, 2004 - 10:34 p.m.>

I know Christmas is over, and my birthday is a long way away, but if you loved me, you'd buy me this. (!)

-

I just got back from a DigitalEve career-planning seminar. I learned two very valuable things... (1) never pick a funky art-deco chair to sit in at the beginning of a 90-minute presentation. Funky does not equal comfort. (2) I really like my job, and there are an awful lot of people out there who hate theirs.

I thank my lucky stars.

a

<monday january 19, 2004 - 10:34 p.m.>

The highlight of the day, a box of Valentine's Day items via PostcardX, sent by a total stranger. It contained:

- a bag of cherry lollipops
- a bag of those chalky-but-good heart things with little messages
- ten or so heart-themed pencils
- Valentine's rubber stamps and ink pad
- a plush dog with a heart in its mouth
- colourful pencil erasers

How awesome is that? I also got a lovely envelope with pretty papers. I am CRAZY about stationary and arty paper and have developed a wee bit of a fixation for mail these past few weeks.

I drop everything and rush to the mailbox when I sense the presence of Ken the Mailman.

(Thanks Melissa, for your p-card. I have it on the magnet board in from of me. It rocks!)

Oh ya, and it looks like Sarah has given up on dance class. I must have jinxed it when I went around crowing about her 'progress.'

<sigh>

a.

<thursday january 15, 2004 - 3:44 p.m.>

Sunday mornings are now exclusively reserved for family fitness and other organized activities.

Early in the morning I have my own class. It's called Strength Mix. It's basically about muscle toning but without any cardio. Every session they change the particular equipment. Last time I was in this class I discovered the joy of exercising with gigantic rubber bands around my ankles, and learned some bizarre moves like The Plank, which look really simple but in fact rip every abdominal muscle to shreds. Who knew your abs stretched from your throat down to your groin?

Anyway, last Sunday I went in and surveyed the scene and gathered up my own equipment. The teacher distributed some newfangled half-ball thing and there weren't enough to go around. That's fine with me. I just like to blend into the background. I don't need any special equipment to make me 12 inches taller AND increase the odds that I will fall flat on my face.

While I stretched and worked at each exercise I looked in the mirror. What looked back at me was distinctively pear-shaped, and not the slender-er chick from last summer.

This was something of a disappointment to me. This full-length thing was an entirely new point of view for me. But I am certain there is a reason for that slightly pearish shape. It's the mirrors. They're warped.

They decided they would hang warped mirrors at least year's Building and Maintenance meeting. Joe, the large uni-browed head custodian read the memo himself, out loud, to all attending janitors.

"It's from Management," he said with a slight tone, and purposely overemphasizing the M in Management. "It says here… hmm… it says here that we are getting new mirrors for the studio!"

Joe wiped his brow with sweaty anticipation, knowing they don't pay overtime for this kind of work.

"It also says here that we're not to tell anyone about that mirrors are intentionally warped to provide, and I quote, 'maximum allowable visual distortion to promote return visits to our fitness facility,' endquote"

Joe stopped to think about all the work that was involved. He looked around the room, all the other janitors were speechless. Some had let their cigarrettes burn right down to the filter.

"And get this," he continued. "We're supposed to adjust the scales too!"

-

Ok, so I'm not exactly certain there was a meeting after all. But that mirror, I'm tellin' ya, it just ain't right.

You know, I should face it, I will always have hips. In fact, perhaps I should start to look at them in a more positive light. See how they helped during childbearing years? See how I can wallop people if they get too close to me in the elevator? See how I can hold two laundry baskets, one on each side!

So I sweat and struggled through the class, hips and all, and while I was putting away my gear I remembered the reason for my distaste of these kind of fitness classes.

They are heavily populated by EWEs - Evangelistic Women Exercisers. EWEs wear proper fitness clothing that contains a large percentage of lycra/spandex. Heaven forbid wearing anything other than white gym shoes! EWEs hang out in packs, killing innocent bystanders with their contemptuous stares. EWEs are not the kind of people who reach out to people me, uncooridinated girls who tend to burst out laughing at themselves in the middle of class.

Oh well. I should just make myself a horribly offensive t-shirt with gaping holes in it.
I need to think of a good slogan.

After my class I go home and it's soon time for Mark and I to shuffle the girls back to the rec center for their dance classes.

Ever since last week's incident with Sarah we've been counting down to this day. The plan was to get her psyched up, pumped up and ready with renewed commitment for The Big Dance Day. We quizzed her vigourously throughout the week.

Me - What are you going to do at ballet class?
Sarah - Dance.
Are you going to fuss?
No.
Cry?
No.
Be shy?
No.

Her outlook seemed promising.

Sunday morning she had her pick between Mark and I. She wanted Mark to bring her to class. This was fine with me. I was going to hook up with them later anyway. Emma's class follows hers.

That morning I pulled Emma (mostly uphill) on the toboggan. We arrived, snowy and out of breath. As we moved indoors I paused to look and listen. I didn't hear any plaintive cries echoing from the studio. I didn't see Mark with a concerned expression, wearing out the carpet with worried pacing. I also didn't see him holding a sobbing mass, nor did I see this same sobbing mass holding onto his legs or sprawled out on the floor.

Apparently Sarah didn't get as upset as she did last week. In fact, no tears had been shed at all! But it also hadn't gone exactly how I had envisioned it. I went around the corner to the studio and peeked in the long narrow window of her class. And there she was, sitting on a little chair in the corner of the class, looking a little lonely, but shyly, modestly, expressing teeny interest in her surroundings and the antics of her classmates.

She swung her legs in time to the music, the toe of her pink-slippered feet touching the floor. I will accept this as a step in the right direction.

When class was over Sarah happily ran to her dad. It was Emma's turn. She dashed into the class, saluted us with a hand raised over her head... and didn't even turn around for one last look. She joined the other pink whirlwinds without a second thought. :)

andrea