But it's a Cecilia Dupinet

Look closely at the original tag.  $245.50


Then, gaze above to the GOODWILL tag of $5.99


So, let's get this straight.  Someone paid TWO HUNDRED FORTY FIVE DOLLARS & FIFTY CENTS for a swim suit cover up by Cecilia Dupinet, who ever that is.  
But, wait, it gets better.  
Then, did NOT wear it. 
Then decided, I will just donate this to the GOODWILL.


This, my friends, is why they call me the GOODWILL GIRL.  
Well, sort of.  Actually, this was one really great find.  And, to be honest,  I have left, on not so good days, with random oddities that are now cluttering up the garage and in a box to be donated (back) to the GOODWILL. 


And no, I will not be sporting my Cecilia Dupinet on a yacht off the coast of Martha's Vineyard.  But, I can promise you, I will get my $5.99 cents worth at the Elk's Lodge swimming pool. 

Tennis anyone....anyone....Bueller?

The tennis obsession started about 6 years ago after becoming so mind-numbingly bored of all things being passed off as women's fitness. 
I could not take another mundane class of step aerobics, Pilate's, or jazz-my-thighs.  I heard a friend talking about tennis and thought:  if she can do it, surely, I can too.  


I decided to take a few lessons, and went with the cheap group kind.  There were about 8 of us, ranging in age from 25 to 50.  I was 34, at the time, and feeling pretty good about being able to follow the simple instructions from the tennis pro.   


My first return was a high pop fly, over the fence.  I heard a few muffled snickers.  You know, the type where people feel so bad for you that they try with all their might to hold in the spontaneous laughter, but can't.  Then, the Pro asked, "Have you really never played...at all?"  All balls fell to the ground and everyone stared at me.  Apparently, in Plano, Texas the idea that someone had NEVER picked up a tennis racket before seemed incomprehensible.  I tried to explain that I grew up in a tiny town in Oklahoma and the one court in town was where we rode our bikes and roller skates.  I don't think it even had a net on it.  They honestly looked dumbfounded.  The rest of the lesson was equally embarrassing, to the point that every person had a desire to make me their little project and help me out with tips:


           1.  Hold the racket like you're shaking hands with it
           2.  Keep your eye on the ball
           3.  Don't scream like that, ever again


I still remember driving home and contemplating not showing up for the next lesson.  I talked myself into going, mainly for spite:  I'll show these snobby tennis-ites that I will not be deterred.  I know I will be chosen last when we go into the "pick a partner" portion, but I am not going to quit....unless, the Pro pulls me aside and has the "I'm sorry, but for safety reasons, you may not come back" talk.  


I guess I have my own stubbornness to thank for being able to enjoy the game today.  I am still learning, but have improved dramatically.  I had a frienemy, who grew up in private school, playing tennis of course, who once told me that I will peak before I hit 40, and be unable to continue to improve.  I think this ignorant statement helped me to stick with it and I would love to play him again, any time, any place.  Because improvement for me has little to do with age, and a lot to do with a relentless acceptance of embarrassment, a twinge of spite, and a refusal to ever go back to Jazz-My-Thighs.


I love that Jonathan is now officially hooked as well, and he watches tennis on a regular basis.  Playing him is like playing a giant game of ping-pong, due to his ability to put crazy spin on the ball.  He also was blessed with a wicked drop shot, just something that came to him one day.  His natural athleticism is extremely annoying and I lose 90% of the time we play.  But, when I do pull out a win (like when he tries to play on a sprained ankle or when his blood sugar is really low), it is sweet.  Had to actually go to a tie-break the last time we played, and the universe, my friends, was gracious .  I am still glowing from the glory which surrounded me.

Dear Brilliant, Gorgeous, Talented, Fabulous Girls,

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

                                                                  by Marianne Williamson

If there is one single wish, I could wish for you, it's this: 

                               Never Shrink. 

Let your talents and your dreams, take shape in your life.

 

To Madi:

Celebrate your writing, compassion, sense of humor, ability to forgive quickly, your love of science and math, interest in social justice, athleticism, and the list goes on and will continue to grow as you do.  

                              

To Mollie:

Celebrate your athletic ability, sense of humor, love of nature, competitive drive, honesty, boldness, affection, decisiveness, and the list goes on and will continue to grow, as you do.  

 

I'm going to marry Dawson Hollenbeck......

says my sweet little kindergartner casually one day.  I panic a little, but keep it together.  I know I must remain calm if I am going to get any additional information. 


Me:  Why?
MC:  Because he has spiky hair and does not pick his boogers.


Well, who was this little romeo and how had he stolen her heart?  Since I work at the same place he goes to pick up chicks, I knew I would be able to launch a full, undercover investigation. 

I needed an excuse to get him to the examination room, er, I mean my classroom.  I had my questions all ready to go:







Who brought this marriage thing up?


Don't you think you are a little young to be talking about marriage?


What are your long term career goals? 




And then I saw him.  Arms behind his back, walking like a sweet, little gentlemen through the hall, while the other hoodlums ran top speed with a line of teachers shaking their fists in the air at them.  
And then he flashed those big blue eyes at me, which can knock a girl blind, by the way.  OK, I thought.  Well, he passed my first hallway check test, but I cannot be won over so easy.  I had to get tough.  On the ride home, I pressed MC for more. 


Me:  So, does Dawson ever get in trouble?   
MC: No, he is the best kid in the class.  He's even better than me.


The following day, his teacher (and his PE, music, and art teachers) confirmed this information.  My "let's find a reason my little girl cannot marry Dawson Hollenbeck" case was full of holes.  But, I would not be deterred.


Me:  So, who decided that you two should get married?


MC: Me.  

Me:  

(in my head)....WHAT?  

All this time, I imagined my little innocent girl to be lured into a very early marriage by the fast talking, spiky haired Dawson when all along, this was actually her idea?!

MC:  Plus, he is my best friend.

Me:

(in my head)

Well, I hope all my future investigations end up with a Dawson Hollenbeck as the prime suspect and may she always fall for the heart of gold-best friend-types (who do not pick their boogers).

A precious memory: 

Mollie came skipping into my classroom right after school on the day before Christmas break.  She said, "Look Mom! Dawson got me a present." She was carrying a small gift bag.  She pulled the two items out as if they were the most delicate treasures one could ever receive and said, "I will be so beautiful" as she carefully sprayed the Bath and Body Works mist on.