Change Partners & Dance

I. Deliberate

I'm biking to work in a little bit here, this morning.
Things are pretty okay there.

Ass. Man. went off on people three days in a row a couple weeks ago. It was weirdly, sadly helpful to see him be a jerk others, not just me––put it in perspective.
Finally Big Boss took him into the office for a little talk, and he chilled out afterward. For now.

I keep my distance, and he's pleasant, friendly even.
I even like him (when he's not attacking me or others)––he has a rare, quirky creativity––but my trust level is now at a very stable zero. Easier than wondering if I should try, try again with him.
Nope.

With the warm weather, I went from almost no book donations to being swamped---plus I'm still doing toys--forever, I guess.
I don't mind, I just don't have time to get to all of them.
I'm working with accepting that--keeping a steady pace, not getting flustered and rushing.

I keep saying to my gym teacher that I want to move more slowly, . . . but "slowly" isn't quite the right word.

This week he said, "Maybe you mean moving deliberately."

Yes, I like that! Literally to "weigh well".
Etymology:
From Latin de = entirely
+ libra = weight scales, the libr– altered to liber–, "probably by influence of liberare 'to free, liberate'".

How cool is that?

"To weigh well" is a kind of liberation--in my case, here, from rushing and risking hurting myself and getting emotionally frantic.

I love my gym class.
The teacher asked, "What do you want to work on this week?"
I said, "Let's lie down."

"That's a great idea," he said. "Let's do floor work."

Right. Floor work. That's what I meant.
But I swear, if I said I wanted to lie there and take a nap, he'd be happy with that too.

II. Doll Change

On Sunday it was almost 60º, and my sister took me & Marz out to a coffee shop for my birthday.

We sat at an outdoor table, with Three Orphan Reds were standing up.
A little kid, maybe six, seven? came skateboarding down the sidewalk with a parent and stopped and STARED with fascination at the dolls.
We said hello, and the parent moved the kid along.

I handed a doll (Valentina, the one who'd played Santa on my Christmas card) to Marz and asked if she'd go offer it to the kid.

As Marz approached holding out the doll, from down the street we heard a yell: "YES!"

It's lucky I had a girlette with me that I could give away.

This has happened before---a child will be riveted by one of the dolls when I'm out in public, but often it's Penny Cooper, and I can't part with her.

Lesson: Carry a spare.

Change Over

Last night Spike was complaining she felt trapped in the space suit/armor: "I want to be a space ballerina!"

So, space ballerina it is...

The foil suit was cool, I'm really proud of it and wish I'd had time to set up an action scene-–but it made me nervous to think of her constricted in it all night. She could barely see out, and I'd taped over her smile.
She did keep the booties and one space-glove, so that's nice.

I can attest to the stickiness of foilmastic tape (for taping pipes, I think?): it took effort to get the suit off.