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Come Together

I only just met her. The other ladies I know have been helping her for awhile. Although Kim has cancer, this was bigger. It was about people, women, moms, families, coming together. Do we always need a reason? Maybe. If we have one does it make it easier to donate time, effort and items for a cause? Maybe. I am rarely tempted to donate money to organizations or individuals. I tend to be more local than global. Some may not agree with that, but I know for sure that I can do only what I can do. My first priority has to be my family. Anything I can do beyond that I’ll do. In this case, I not only wanted to help, I was compelled. That is much stronger word, and one I listen to when it comes from my gut.

What I saw was an amazing collective of talents. A fashion show, bake sales, a petting zoo, food trucks, an auction and more. All under the hot sun on a beautiful California summer day. The birthday party before the park event was a great success as well, with live Star Wars characters there to help her four-year old boy celebrate in style. Light sabers for the kids, a very artistic cake and lots of yummy snacks and treats. A woman who was told she would not live to see this birthday was there with her trademark shining smile. The goose bumps rose on my arm as I watched her happiness burst out of every pore. Funds raised that day will help her medical expenses as she fights the ugly creature trying to stop her from seeing her son’s next birthday. Star Wars seemed a fitting theme, plastic light sabers for the kids to battle the bogeyman, as we made a community light saber with our donations and time, and prepare to take collective aim at Kim’s cancer.

Z-z-z-umba!

I’ve been taking Zumba (Zoom-bah) classes at the gym.  I really like it, but I have a few difficulties. For one, every time I finally get the step(s) the instructor is doing, she changes it to another step. I usually stay in the back of the class because I don’t want to make a spectacle of myself. I mean, who wants to see a suburban housewife shaking it in an oversized t-shirt? Let me paint a picture of the atmosphere for you.

Disco lights of multiple colors blaze across the ceiling. Fans blow cool air around in case it gets too hot. Every 10 minutes the music changes between various versions of Latin and Spanish music, with bass pumping dance clubs beats. Reminiscent of tropical vacation nightlife where you have no cares? Only if you don’t open your eyes. The cute, blonde and very fit instructor has a huge smile on her perky face, and hips that gyrate in ways I don’t think mine did when I could shake them. Most of the time (when I’m not encouraging the crease in my forehead trying to keep up) I try to imagine I’m dancing with friends. The down side is, no margaritas. I am so confident I would be better at keeping up if I had a margarita, or some other south of the border beverage. But then I remind myself, it’s a health club, not a dance club. Oh, right.

Some of the steps are easier for me than others as they mimic moves I have done in ice skating. The rest escape me pretty quickly though. Advice for new Zumba takers? Whatever you do, do not look in the mirror. I caught a glimpse of my out of shape self, baggy shirt a-flowing and in full serious face mode. Bad idea. I had started to actually think I was younger, thinner and a better dancer. At least the class was almost over at that point. Looking at the instructor on her platform, I realized, I like taking these classes. But I always like to HAVE taken it, just a little more than I like TO take it. Just like I’d like to HAVE DONE the work to look like her, more than I want to actually DO the work. That explains why I’m in the back of the class avoiding the mirror. And in spite of Gloria Estefan’s assertions, apparently, the rhythm is NOT actually going to get you me.

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