My husband mixes and I bake. It was his idea. I'm happy.
And ballet is back. Yay. It felt so good. My Middle Eastern dance teacher hasn't started classes yet though, so in the meantime I'm going to sign up for a jazz class.
I wore my hair in a braided bun that looked nice and actually stayed without distracting me. Took me three tries to do it right. An older lady in class, she's real sweet, she has cancer. And she told me I looked lovely. I admire her a lot. On my way out of class I gave my teacher a hug. She's got a tough row to hoe with her husband abruptly leaving after 31 years of marriage. She was upbeat though. She's not one to feel sorry for herself. I don't know how she's doing it. Anyway, after I hugged her, and I could feel she needed that hug, so I was glad I did it, then I turned around and the younger student. It didn't feel right to walk on by so that's why I laid a hug on her too. Then I hugged the older lady. Finally, I hugged the mom of the younger dancer and she said she hasn't had a hug is so long and thanked me. By the time I got to the exit and turned around, they were all laughing and hugging each other.
Our son is playing trucks on the floor and they are spread out all, I mean all over the living room. I treasure this time. He's ten and a half. It won't be long till he won't be playing truck games on the floor anymore. What, till age 11, perhaps 12? I wish to slow down the clocks immediately.
