Songs of Experience

I should be making dinner for my kids right now – they’re really hungry – but I can’t take care of anything until I get this off my chest. A few hours ago, as I was heading into my favorite trail with my two younger daughters (because it is late February and this is when the daffodils bloom along Banshee), I encountered a woman and her teenage daughter coming out of this very trail with two huge bunches of freshly-picked daffodils. I was truly shocked and it felt like someone just kicked me in the stomach. I couldn’t help blurting, “Did you just pick those?!” “Oh, yes,” said the greedy little pig, “There are tons.” Tons? Really? NOT ANYMORE, I wanted to scream. (There were, in fact, only about 7 daffodils left on the trail after she harvested several dozen for her private dinner table). I told her, “That is terrible; those flowers should be for everyone to enjoy.” She defensively muttered something about “did you donate this land?” but I was too upset to even SEE those cut flowers (not one but TWO huge bunches of flowers in that piggy girl’s fist). As I marched away, I told my own daughters to never never never never pick flowers on public property. “We know,” they said. Then my 6 year-old added, “If they wanted flowers why didn’t they plant some in their OWN yard?” Indeed.

Those February Daffodils along Banshee could have been the glory of hundreds of runners and walkers for weeks, but instead only two people enjoyed them.
“And then they die,” said my other daughter.

Is there a law on the books for public green space: “Please don’t pick the flowers”?
I guess I’ll go cook dinner now … but I’ve lost my appetite.

It is Lent once again, and rather than participate in what I call the sorority Lenten diet (giving up dessert for 40 days before spring break, so they can fit into their bikinis), I am going to try – TRY being the operative word here, considering the flop of my last attempt at a streak – to do 10 minutes of “mindful/prayerful” yoga every evening. One of my favorite conversations to have with my daughters is the “What are you going to do for Lent?” on Ash Wednesday. Here’s what my kids have come up with:

Lizzie, age 6 – clear the dinner dishes every night
Rosie, age 10 – kiss everyone goodnight (which is “blecch!” for her)
Sarah Jane, age 14, – try (again TRY) not to look at her reflection – in mirrors or store-front windows, turned-off televisions, or metal doorknobs. This, for a teenage girl is, OMG!, way difficult. But I know she’s capable of rising to the challenge. She’s allowed to get ready for school using her bathroom mirror, but after that, no face or hair or outfit checks.
Could you do it?

This excerpt from WB Yeats’ poem, A Prayer for My Daughter, helps illuminate why one might want to avoid looking-glasses.

“May she be granted beauty and yet not
Beauty to make a stranger’s eye distraught,
Or hers before a looking-glass, for such,
Being made beautiful overmuch,
Consider beauty a sufficient end,
Lose natural kindness and maybe
The heart-revealing intimacy
That chooses right, and never find a friend.”

*
Well, that’s it. My St. John’s wort experiment is over. How’s this for a newspaper headline?:

Tummy Trouble Trumps Trial

Maybe I’ll try one of those sunlamps next, or go au natural. This ridiculously warm February weather in North Carolina has been amazing to run in and ripping through the woods, truly dappled with sunlight, has created ample endorphins to cure the blues.

How about:

Ample Endorphins Enhance Ectoplasm

what is ectoplasm anyway? Dr. Oz? err, I mean, Eric?

Let’s have a googlook …

Ectoplasm generally refers to the outer part of a cell’s cytoplasm.

* Ectoplasm (paranormal), a physical substance that manifests as a result of “spiritual energy” or “psychic phenomenon”
* Ectoplasm (radio show), a BBC Radio 4 comedy series
* the outer bodily regions of the jelly fish
* a cocktail with vodka

Ahhh, definition number 4 looks interesting.
Let’s google-image that one:

I am certain that will help with mild depression … however, it may also result in tummy trouble.
What’s a sad girl to do?

da do run run run
da do run run

Robust Running Revives Retina

I really do feel so much better when I run in the sun.