Leave the dishes.
Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator
and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.
Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.
Throw the cracked bowl out and don’t patch the cup.
Don’t patch anything. Don’t mend. Buy safety pins.
Don’t even sew on a button.
When my children were young, out chasing rose petals flitting about our lawn in early July, chasing dandelions even earlier in May, chasing lightening bugs during hot late summer nights, all the while tramping through the smallest of neighborhoods, but one that included a covered bridge and swimming hole beneath it, enough woods to spy a fairy, and a few kids to trade baseball cards with, I wondered, what would become of these little people? Would they love to dance as much as I do? Would they find beats that drove them to the clubs like I did when I heard Black Box or Madonna or other late 80’s dance sounds? Now, as they have grown into young adults, with passions and degrees, with loves and jobs, I am thrilled they have found joy on the dance floor. Little makes me as happy as sharing that space with them…staying alive and living life! Continue reading
Not able to dash to New York, London, Paris or Milan this September for their respective #FashionWeek did not prevent me from seeking a runway extravaganza. In fact, I more-than-happily attended a local favorite, a fundraiser that gets everyone hooting and hollering even more so because all the designers and models are non-professionals: this STRUT is nothing short of fabulous over-the-top excitement. But, first, there was my own outfit to consider, which took special consideration, and several attempts. Well, of course it did!
There are days when even this Nine Cent Girl likes to let go of thinking, of words, of worldly concerns. What better time to start than while we are waiting for Spring? Instead of coming home and turning on the news or reaching for the wine, how about a few wonderful minutes when you set your radio dial to music you just have to move to? No matter what, just dance!
Why are people putting Morgan Page, the two-time Grammy nominated artist, and the larger-than-life Michael Jackson, in the same sentence?