Nia

There are shortcuts to happiness, and dancing is one of them - Vicki Baum

A few weeks ago at dinner, my friends Kelley and Hilary were talking about a dance class called Nia that they take at their gym. They insisted that I come sometime and I told them that I'd give it a try. Yesterday, Kelley emailed me that she was going to class today and so, this morning, arriving a little bit late, I suddenly found myself in a room full of twenty barefoot women, all shaking their booties.

I had never heard of Nia (which apparently stands for Neuromuscular Integrative Action, which makes it sound more like a course in medical school than a class for shaking your booty) before and I was a little intimidated to just get out there and shake it on the dance floor at 9 AM. Dancing for me has usually occurred at either weddings or dark bars, after numerous drinks in both cases. But I was there, Sexy Back was blaring from the speakers, and my friends were expecting me to dance so I headed out to the dance floor to give it a try.

In order to dance in a Nia class, you basically have to embrace your inner hippie. Think Dead Show but with a Justin Timberlake/Michael Jackson beat. The dance moves are a mix of yoga, martial arts, jazz, modern dance and whatever else you want to bring to the floor. The instructor was amazing. I could have watched her all morning, but instead had to focus on clumsily following her steps.

The result? I can't say that I looked graceful out there, but the class was so much fun. The world would truly be a better place if everyone woke up and spent seventy-five minutes laughing and dancing before going off to face the day. It was great exercise, but ultimately seemed more like a class in expressing joy.

Oh, and another benefit? After a week of having the Wiggles' Wake Up Jeff in my head all day, today I spent the day humming Sexy Back.

Children in the woods

A kid today can likely tell you about the Amazon rain forest - but not about the last time he or she explored the woods in solitude, or lay in a field listening to the wind and watching the clouds move. - Richard Louv, Last Child in the Woods

The voice of nature is always encouraging - Henry David Thoreau


Last weekend, Noni was napping and Toby and I were both working around the house. The girls played for a little while and then, bored, turned on the television. It was a beautiful day outside, about 70 degrees and sunny, and Toby lamented that they should be able to just run outside, meet up with friends, and go play. I felt a pang of guilt that we were letting them watch television on a beautiful day and turned it off, telling them to go play in the yard.

It struck me then, for some reason, how different things are today than they were when I grew up. Of course, that statement has probably been said before in a million different ways about a million different things. People tend to be nostalgic about their own childhood. But the truth is that when I was eight years old, my parents would kick me outside whether it was beautiful out or not and often I wouldn't come home until dinner, when you'd hear shouts from parents all over the neighborhood calling out the front door for their kids to come home. Sometimes, I would go out with my sister and we'd meet up with neighborhood kids to build forts, ride our bikes or play on the beach. Just as often, I'd go by myself and climb on the cliffs by the lake or collect sea glass by the shipyard. Aside from The Cosby Show and The Smurfs, I don't have many memories of watching t.v. because we just didn't that often, but it wasn't because my parents were constantly coming up with activities for us to do. All they had to do was open the door and tell us to go.

I watched from the dining room window as Evie and Lucy climbed the tree in the front yard. They played outside for a while, but eventually became bored with limited space and no one else to play with and came back in. I could have called a friend to find other kids for them to play with, but that in itself is different from the way things used to be because it would require an extra effort on my part to set up a playdate and then the added responsibility of watching someone else's kids. The restrictions we put on our children's freedom and their ability to roam outside creates limits and challenges for both children and parents that never occurred before.

Yet I don't know how to change that because even as I was thinking about this, I didn't feel comfortable shooing Evie and Lucy out to wander around the neighborhood. When my parents sent us outside, they had the safety net of an entire neighborhood of kids our age wandering around outdoors. For better or worse, it was also a different era - one without car seats and bike helmets and 24-hour news cycles warning us about the dangers of our world. As much as I want them to have more freedom outside, I'm still not planning on letting my five-year-old wander around unsupervised.

As I contemplated what to do about getting the girls outside more, I decided it was time for me to read Last Child in the Woods, Richard Louv's book about the growing "nature-deficit disorder" in our nation's children. He paints a disturbing picture of a generation of obsese children growing up in front of the computer and television screen, with no connection to the natural world. I am somewhat reassured as I read it knowing that we have done our best to get the girls outside as much as possible. When Evie was only two months old, Toby and I took her to West Virginia for a long weekend of hiking. Of course, she spent the weekend in the backpack (wearing a florescent orange hunting cap and listening to gun shots in the nearby woods since Toby and I hadn't figured out beforehand that November was hunting season), but as soon as her little legs could carry her, she was hiking up the trail on her own. We have continued that tradition, taking the girls on countless hikes as they have grown. Just this Saturday, we took them on a three hour hike at Eldorado.

Yet going on a hike isn't quite the same as freely spending time outside. When we are hiking, Toby and I are constantly moving them forward - occasionally stopping to listen to a bird or look at lichen on a rock, but still moving forward with a goal in mind. Plus, we are there with them. It isn't exactly their time to roam freely in nature.

Looking around our neighborhood, I am reassured that as the girls get older, I'll feel comfortable giving them more freedom to be out on their own. I often see groups of kids, from fifth grade on, biking or walking together outside, or even just sitting on the sidewalk, hanging out, just being together outside. I'm sure images of mountain lions and kidnappers will cross my mind when that day comes, but I'm hoping at that stage that I will feel comfortable kicking the girls out on a sunny day to go find their friends and to just be outside. For now, we'll have to be content that the time they spend outside will occur on playdates and hikes and days on the ski slope. And when I consider that Evie spent the hike this weekend collecting acorns and moss for a fairy house and that Lucy found over 100 "amazing and cool" sights to point out, I have to hope that, while they may not have all the freedoms that I had, they are still developing a love and appreciation for nature and the outdoors that they will carry with them for life.

100 Pages

The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek. - Joseph Cambell

The way you define yourself as a writer is that you write every time you have a free minute. If you didn't behave that way, you would never do anything. - John Irving

About a month ago, a friend of mine asked me if I'd like to join a writing club. She explained that there would just be three of us in it and we would inspire each other to write more each month. I loved the idea and immediately said yes. Then, as I walked home, fear and doubt began to creep in to my thoughts. What if I can't think of anything to write? What if they are better writers than I am? How am I going to find time to even do this? Not only that, but then, before our first meeting, she send out an email suggesting that we all sign up for nanowrimo (http://www.nanowrimo.org/), or in other words, pledge to write a novel by our second meeting. I laughed out loud at the email and thought, there is no way I can write a novel in a month.

I have always wanted to write a novel. It doesn't have to be a novel that anyone reads. It doesn't have to be good. But it's always been on my list of Things I Want To Do. (A list which includes traveling to Vietnam, running a marathon in less than four hours and which doesn't include sky diving out of an airplane.) Yet it's very easy to find reasons not to write a novel. Like three kids for instance. Or a never-ending pile of laundry. But it occurred to me, as I went for a run after reading her email, that there will never be a perfect time for me to write a novel. The kids will grow older and I'll go back to work and there will still be the laundry, but then there will be papers to grade as well. It will always be easy to find an excuse. Plus, I love the idea behind nanowrimo. It's quantity over quality. It's a vow not to find excuses, but just to write at least 100 pages in a month, even if it's crap. And hopefully in that crap, there will be at least a few lines of beautiful writing that you want to keep.

And so, this month I will be writing. Probably not as much in my blog as usual, but I'll be on my computer typing away. While jumping out of an airplane has never been one of my goals, it feels strangely similar. When you set a goal for yourself, you always run the risk of failure. Yet I feel energized at even the thought of trying. And so, wish me luck. 100 pages, here I come!

From One Extreme to Another

We just got back from two hours in the snowy park, sledding and watching teenagers build a ski ramp. I had to remind myself that it is only October. When I uploaded the photos from today onto Flickr, I took a quick look at my album titled "Late October" from last year in Studio City. I was remembering how I used to worry about Evie getting heat stroke during her soccer games in October. Life is a little different in Colorado!

Evie and Lucy at Griffith Park in October. Note the shorts.

Today - and it's still snowing!

Finding Nederland

Ever since moving to Boulder, I've been wanting to get deeper into the mountains. We have done several hikes out of our front door and into the foothills, a couple of hikes up around the Flat Irons, and some biking with snowy mountain views, but because of unpacking and other weekend plans, haven't explored further than that. This weekend, with my dad in town, we finally made the twenty minute drive up the road (and I mean seriously up, about 3,000 feet) to Nederland for some hiking and dinner.

Nederland is only a short drive from Boulder but it feels like a different world. When we left Boulder, it was sixty degrees and sunny, but when we pulled into Nederland twenty minutes later we were under a dark snow cloud. Named for "The Netherlands" by a Dutch mining company, Nederland was originally just a mill down for the silver mines of nearby town of Caribou, which is now a ghost town. Unlike Boulder, Nederland still maintains a gritty, old western vibe, although these days that's mixed with a hippy vibe as well, with the small downtown hosting both a crystal and a hemp store. [A side note: Nederland is also home to one of the most bizarre festivals I've ever heard of: The Frozen Dead Guys festival]

Despite the ominous gray cloud, we passed through the town for a hike around Mud lake. The hike was beautiful, though the girls lost interest when the winds and snow picked up. At one point, we looked into the valley and the snow was blowing horizontally across the tree line. We made our way back to the car, cold, but refreshed by the mountain air.

Since it was still a bit early for dinner, we decided to swing by Eldora, Boulder's nearest ski area, for a quick tour. The lodge is more similar to a West Virginia lodge than a lodge at Vail, but the trails are pure Colorado and I love that we have a great ski area that close to our house.

Then we drove back into town and ate dinner at Kathmandu Restaurant, which is basically a taste of Nepal right in the Colorado mountains. Run by a Nepalese family, the food is served (Nepalese style) on stainless steal plates and cups, and we enjoyed garlic naan and saag and other delicious food. The best part was that it felt wonderfully warm inside as we looked out the windows at the mountains and blowing snow.

As we found from our trip to Nederland, the season for hiking in the mountains to our west is coming to a close. If we want to continue to explore over the winter, we'll have to break out the snow shoes and the skis. Just so long as we have a warm restaurant to enjoy at the end of the day, that works for me.

An old bus at the end of the trail

Eldora map

How can you not love a town with a town hall like this?

Full family photo, if you can spot Noni's foot

Reconnecting

This weekend, four of my college friends and I met up to spend the weekend together. It's something we've tried to do at least once a year for the past thirteen years. In the beginning, it was easy and we got together far more than just once a year. Several of my friends lived in NYC and it was a great excuse to head up there for a fun weekend. In the past few years though, pregnancies, kids, living further apart (in places as diverse as Iraq and Nicaragua), finances and other obligations have made finding a weekend to get together more challenging. I've missed the last two get togethers because we were about to move and then because of the logistics of getting to Miami from Los Angeles for two days. This past weekend made me realize how much I've really missed my friends and how important it is to figure out a way to get together more often, no matter how challenging that is.

On Saturday morning, I left Toby in the girls in the newly transformed winter wonderland of Boulder, picked up a car through a local car share and headed to the airport to pick up Diana and Karima, flying in from Miami and Brooklyn. From there, we drove another half an hour south to meet up with Annie, who travelled from Maine, and Jen, who sent her husband and older kids to her brother's and hosted us for the weekend. When I picked Karima and Diana up at the airport, we commented on how long it had been, but within about two minutes it felt as though no time had passed at all. We had a lot to catch up on, but the laughter and the easy flow of conversation was unchanged. When we arrived at Jen's house, we all sat down for lunch together and found ourselves laughing until we were crying time and time again.

We spent most of the weekend sitting by the fire, drinking wine, eating good food (without having to get up during meals), shopping (without having to worry about a little one escaping from the dressing room), looking at old photographs, passing Jen's new baby Larson from lap to lap, talking, laughing and relaxing. We turned the tv on once to watch Project Runway, which somehow all of us had missed that week and which Jen fortunately taped, and it was so nice to be sitting on the couch, making comments about the show together. I felt like I was back in college again, minus a terrible hangover and minus some of the juicy gossip we used to enjoy in those days (though fortunately Annie brought $35 worth of gossip magazines to fill the void.)

Need I even say that the weekend was absolutely wonderful? It is always fun to catch up with good friends, but something about the weekend was more than just fun. It was therapeautic. I love my family and my life with them, but there are days when I feel defined by my role as a mother of three children. It's hard to be fun and interesting when you are mopping the bathroom floor or struggling to get three people out the door with lunches made and mittens on. Spending the weekend with my college friends, I realized they don't see me that way at all. They have known me since we were all hanging out on our dorm couch in flannels, Doc Martens and patched jeans, with husbands and children and careers a distant thing in the future. Of course, seventeen years changes people. I am different and so are they. We've all grown up and, given some of the memories we discussed over the weekend, that's a really good thing. But our ability to talk to each other about our lives and enjoy each others' company and perspectives has remained the same.

On Monday, we all headed back home to our lives and families. It was wonderful to see Toby and the girls again and I jumped back into the chaos of life with three kids again carrying the memories of a very relaxing weekend with me. It is sad living so far apart, but Diana has an apartment in Miami and I'm already looking forward to our next gathering, where we'll leave the fireplace behind and catch up with sand between our toes.

Where the wild things are

When your town cozies right up to the Rockies and miles and miles of wilderness, you get some wildlife wandering through your neighborhood from time to time. I noticed the deer as soon as we moved in. They were hard to miss, eating grass out in our front yard. They aren't the Bambi-esque deer of back east, but are a bit hardier looking, with sturdier legs and shaggier fur and I found them completely exotic. We continued to see them and then, when I counted eleven of them on the way to the girls' school one day, it occurred to me that they really aren't exotic at all. Given how often we see them, they are pretty much the neighborhood squirrels. I still like passing them by on the way to school (and probably appreciate them more than most since I'm not a gardener) but I no longer stop to stare or take pictures.

We also discovered pretty quickly that another type of animal frequently makes its way down the mountain. We naively left our trash can out the first week of living here and soon found it knocked over, with a giant crap sitting next to it. We looked at the size of the scat and, after ruling out wandering, trash-digging elephants, realized that a bear had been eating our leftover pizza. We now keep the trash can safely in the garage, but I think about the bear every time I go for a trail run and pass by the "Bear Activity In This Area!" sign.

Then of course, there's another animal. One that recently seems to be, like the deer, as common as squirrels. Only it's not really a good comparison unless you imagine big, meat-eating squirrels with sharp claws and fangs. I'm talking about our friendly neighborhood mountain lions. Like the bears, they come into the neighborhoods feeling a little bit hungry. A week ago, a woman a few blocks away watched in horror as a lion attacked, killed and then ran away with her pet cat. On Friday night, just three blocks away from us, a man saw a lion in his garden at midnight and again at 6:30 AM. And then on Saturday night, just two blocks from us, a family couldn't find their cat in their house before going to bed. The next morning, they found his fur and blood on the sidewalk in front of their house.

I feel terrible about our neighbors losing their cats, but I have to admit that part of me loves that we have bears and mountain lions wandering by our house at night. They should stay in the mountains of course. It's safer for us and for them, as repeat offenders end up shot. But I think it's just that I love the reminder that humans haven't taken over everything, that beautiful wild animals still exist. I often think of Kingsolver's Prodigal Summer, where the main character, a park ranger, describes a wild coyote as the "beating heart" of the forest. The mountain lions seem to me to be the beating heart of the mountains behind us.

Don't worry, just because I like the mountain lions doesn't mean I'm not taking precautions. We keep Mouse in at night, the girls aren't allowed to play outside without adult supervision anytime near dusk, and, while I'd like to see a mountain lion, I hope that it would be from my car or living room window. Also, I have to admit feeling a little bit concerned about Halloween. It's probably not rational, but I'm not sure that I should let Noni be a cat. Halloween is for scary costumes anyway. If she really wants to scare people walking down the street, I'm thinking maybe she should dress up as a mountain lion.