Pineapple Of The North

She’d said she would never dance again. Not after her husband died.

Sure, she would teach. After all, teaching helped carry her through those difficult years.

But no more performing. Performing was always for him, no matter how big the audience, and now he is gone.

Sometimes roles get reversed, places get changed. Sometimes the teacher becomes the student, and there she was, onstage ready to perform what was taught on a workshop.

As introductions were made, I saw her looking at the ground with that look on her face. I was pretty sure she was going to lose it completely right then and there.

The microphone was passed to her. She snapped out of that place, and she was ON.

I can’t remember how the music sounded. I can only remember the pure beauty of expression. The magical smile, the gracefulness. Age had diminished none.

There were no tissues I could reach, and I really needed one. Or nine.

She told me afterwards that yes, she was talking to him in that moment before the music started. I’m glad she did.

The dozen or so of us there that day who knew her story were blessed with an experience we will never forget. The other several hundred people enjoyed a nice performance, and that’s ok too.

Parenting benefits

Dammit, I can feel my teen’s first broken heart from 10 miles away.
It’s worse than having my own broken.

It’s only a number, right?

This afternoon I visited a friend/client.

We sat on her patio in the sun, chatted, took care of business.

She’s 74.

She wore only a lil’ ol pair of gym shorts and tiny tank top, of which she removed the straps. (Tan lines, you know.)

She wore no makeup, her thinning hair was wrapped in a scarf thing and not all her teeth were in.

Yet I would best describe her appearance as “God I hope I’m that confident at that age!”

Rumour has it one of these is rolling into town next week. Maybe I’ll get to touch it…or smell it.

“Try to say nothing negative about anybody for three days, for forty-five days, for three months. See what happens to your life.”
— Yoko Ono  (via happinesslists)

(Source: thisisadulting, via thecpm)


Meet Bertie, the owl who is afraid of going outside… and he loves nothing more than helping his owner make a cup of tea!

Bertie, the three-year-old tawny owl that is agoraphobic. He shares a farmhouse with his owner Peter Middleton, and after his daily bath he likes to dry his feathers by sitting on top of the aga. When he isn’t welcoming guests with a hoot or preening them on the sofa, he’s hard at work letter shredding in the office. Mr Middleton said the domesticated owl, which he adopted after he was left abandoned on the ground, hates the outdoors. He said: “He just doesn’t like going outside, I think he’s agoraphobic. He’s not used it and he’s very comfortable in the house.”

Via Daily Mail

(via gunslingaaahhh)

Mugshot Monday: I think the milk was sour.

Mugshot Monday: I think the milk was sour.

“It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that someone would forget a gun on their car. It’s no different than leaving a pair of hockey skates in your car up here.”
— Bruce Engel, Canadian lawyer, on American Louis DiNatale’s alleged smuggling of a loaded handgun into Canada.