A Hybrid

I am a planner by nature. Some would describe me as a control freak. I would say I’m a control freak that has become less and less attached to outcomes.

I always wanted to be a writer. I have early memories of writing stories and slipping them under my parents bedroom door.

I once wrote a story about a lion and my third grade teacher didn’t believe I wrote it.  “Who wrote this for you” she said. “No one” I said.                                                                                                                                                                                           She sent me home with a note. My father called her. I don’t know what he said, but she never questioned me again. She also moved my seat to the front of the class.

I continued to write. But I discovered I liked other things as well. I liked hanging out with friends, I liked to move and dance and to travel. I loved sleeping outside under the stars. I was growing into my life.

Every year I would buy a new composition notebook and fill it up with my thoughts, but that was all I did as a writer.

Life continued. I traveled to Europe on Freddy Laker air with a one way ticket. I came home and  got a job and an apartment and started making money. I got married. Along the way discovered that I loved food, and that I loved to cook.

When I became a mother I learned  that best plan was to be prepared to have your plan messed with.

Like the guy in the circus who walks behind the elephant, much of the plan is to clean up the shit.  But along the way I began to lose the me behind the mommy so I went back to the planning board. I began taking writing classes. Instead of composition notebooks I filled up my Mac Book. I gained confidence and sent my words into the universe in return I’ve been published.

I took a yoga class and saw the world from a new perspective.  The yoga and the writing the fit like a glove.

When my daughter went to college I enrolled in a yoga teacher training program with no plan to teach just to learn. I learned that I was a good teacher.


The new plan is to share my yoga and my writing and maybe a recipe now and then.  I’m a  hybrid... Follow Me.

It’s Only a Numbers Game

Every year on my birthday I reverse the numbers of my age, and depending on the digits, either imagine what it will be like to be the future age or remember what I was like when I was the younger age. For example, 24 was 42, and 42 was 24. It’s fun. I wondered at certain ages whether the “older me” would still be wearing jeans. At other ages I recalled my first kiss, first date, and first dog. Luckily, at 13 I wouldn’t have imagined my father’s death when I turned 31. At 25, I imagined being married to my husband at 52, and at 52 I still was. At 37, as I held my baby girl I wondered if at 73 If I would be holding a grandchild.

Last year I couldn’t play the game. At 55, the number was the number. It’s karma I told myself. It’s the year that I have to be me, the year that my baby would go off to college, the year that my husband and I would return to just the two of us again. The year I would finish my novel and let my writing go public. I worked on stillness and patience and learned to be a yoga teacher. I cleaned out my closets and threw away the clothes that at 54 I remembered wearing at 45 and thought well maybe next year I’ll fit into them again.

I looked in the mirror at 55 and saw that the scar from my thyroid surgery was fading, that I had recovered from the cancer that invaded my body at 53 and would never have been on my radar at 35, when all I could think of was getting pregnant. So at 56 I am enjoying the prospect of social security at 65 while doing downward dog.