Friday, February 13, 2015


I only have two Valentine's Days in my memory.

The first is close to ten years ago when my mother had breast cancer and I'd brought her to the store to pick up some medication. She went to the pharmacy and I went to look at swimsuits. I ended up buying a red bikini, completely out of character from my standard swimsuits that were always some shade of blue (or black) and one piece. When I told my mother she said, "We are both letting go a lot."

The second is last year. I'd just joined an outdoor group with whom I went to Itasca State Park for my first cross-country ski weekend. It was a fun weekend and I first learned of this group because my mother used to be a part of it.

So I wasn't thinking about any of this when I got my hair cut yesterday, but maybe it's fitting that the day before Valentine's Day I plan to donate the results.

I plan to test out these "new" "used" cross-country ski boots today. My ski equipment is old style. Apparently they don't even make the kind of boots I need anymore. But after my ski boots needed glueing for at least the 3rd time I went to a used sporting store and found these. I've been scared to use them as I think based on the way the backs feel that they are going to give my heels blisters. Eventually I'll probably have to buy some new gear, for now I can thank my mom for the hand me downs that I've stuck with thus far.

I'm also glad this Valentine's Day to be spending the day at a Wild Woman Writing Retreat. I wasn't thinking about Valentine's Day when I signed up for the class but now I'm grateful I'll be spending the day doing something I enjoy with an instructor whose classes I always find nourishing.

I'd been debating getting a massage recently (well I wanted one, I was debated spending my money on one). Then my sister-in-law gave me a gift certificate for my birthday! I scheduled the appointment today.

I'm reading one of those rare books that is good enough that I used it today to motivate myself to turn on the light and read (and therefore wake-up). It is called Gone to Soldiers by Marge Piercy. Historical fiction about WWII.

1 comment:

  1. I didn't know about your mother, Tammy. I'm sorry.