a. e. smith’s official website

I had the opportunity to attend a modern dance performance with some friends on Saturday.  Admittedly, I am not a dance expert, but I always enjoy going.  There was a pre-performance lecture which emphasized that each person takes something different from the performance.  I think that’s what I like about art: freedom.  There is no right or wrong answer.  Your interpretation and reaction is just that, your own.  I also like that common boundaries observed in society don’t seem to exist in the world of art.

This particular performance was called “Chairs,” and, no surprise here, a large furniture store was advertising in the program notes.  I guess this means that all us endeavoring artists who want large sponsors should think about that before naming our productions.  Just a thought.

Ever find yourself stuck in a rut?  It seems I have been for a couple of days now.  No apparent reason.  Just a terrible case of the blahs.  I have, however, discovered a few things:

- Six episodes of Will & Grace go by quickly and always leave me laughing.

- If you’re already feeling annoyed, a needy cat, no matter how cute, is not going to help. (Same thing goes for husbands.)

- Hearing your 3 and 5 year-old nieces talk about poopy pants is a helpful reminder that no matter how bad a day you’re having, at least you’ve got clean underwear.  (There are some other less tasteful jokes in there somewhere, but I’ll leave those to you.)

I went rollerblading again today.  I love love love it.  And I must say, those figure skating lessons I’ve been taking have definitely made me a much steadier skater on pavement, too.  It turns out I’m not as daring in the sunshine.  If I fall on the ice I just smoothly slide and maybe get a bruise or something.  If I fall on the cement I slide, but not so smoothly, and I would probably break, not bruise — so I don’t mess around too much (plus, I’m too lazy to wear pads…sorry, Mom).  Also, there are heaps of people around at the park.  A girls soccer team, skateboarders, toddlers learning to ride bikes, people walking their dogs, underage drinkers.  What would they think if I fell?

I don’t know of any woman who does NOT deserve/need/crave a year of pampering.  Alas, the Sego Lily blog competition only allows us to live vicariously through one lucky blogger, so it’s important you know a little bit about my style to see if you would like a yearlong relationship with me.  I mean, after all, my dear pamper-hungry reader, you’re going to be reading about my every treatment, and I’d rather not be hated for it.  Plus, I think I remember reading somewhere that envy is one of those things we should generally avoid.  How did that ad campaign go?  “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.”  I say, please don’t hate me at all.

The humanitarian in me says that this year of pampering should be shared among a host of good people.  On the other hand, perhaps a year of pampering would give me such a generous outlook on life that I would become the next Mother Theresa, minus all the wrinkles.

Truth be told, I always feel a little guilty when I get a massage.  Not for the reasons you might think. I’m six feet tall.  With all this extra real estate, I always feel like my massage should cost extra.  The poor masseuse has to walk all around the massage table (which, by the way, my toes usually hang off of) and work herself ragged just trying to cover all my skin.  The pedicure expert hides her dismay when she sees my size 11s coming her way.  She probably lost a coin toss or something.

Here’s the thing: we’re all trying to fit more in, do more with less, and make the most of everything.  And we’re all so busy.  Careers, families, volunteering, being a good neighbor, not throwing rocks at people.  Among all the pressures and excitements of daily living, there’s an additional pressure when we do catch our breath: making it count.  We spend so much time contributing to our workplaces and homes, that often we’re at a loss of what to do to really savor that precious 30-60 minutes of unoccupied time.

One of the best ways, of course, is to find a place where you can forget about everything except for feeling good.  No, we probably can’t establish world peace today (maybe tomorrow) but we can make sure that those knots in our back aren’t wreaking havoc on our world.  We can make sure the hands we use to heal hearts and problem solve and text message are in top working condition.  We can, for just a few minutes, relax into who we really are – that person we’ve forgotten among the hustle and bustle of life in 2009.

It would be nice if we could just whisk ourselves away to Italy or Hawaii when life seems messy and uninviting.  Those days when we just can’t handle one more thing.  How nice that when time and money don’t allow for a 7-day Caribbean cruise we can spend an hour being pampered at the spa.  For those blessed 60 minutes we don’t have to think about what to cook for dinner tonight, when that project will be done and who we need to call.  We can just focus on our breath and the bliss of total relaxation.

I’d like to think I can mentally relax and restore whenever I need it.  The truth is I’m sometimes too worn down to see or think clearly.  I need a boost.

Hey, I do yoga.  I fit in an occasional ski day. I try to eat healthy food (though I confess the combination of March’s parade of Girl Scout Cookies and Cadbury mini-eggs has made that tougher than usual).  I never litter.  I still haven’t read “Twilight” but liked the movie.  I’m a closet David Archuleta fan.  I use cloth grocery bags because they make me feel good.  I wish I could find the perfect sports bra.  And on really tough days I make pancakes…and then I go to the spa.  Will you join me?

You can learn more about Sego Lily Spa and the blog contest here.

So the other day I filled in for my boss (who lost her voice) at a special event for 6th graders.  It was my job to give an inspirational message to a thousand or so 12 year-olds spending a day learning about college opportunities.  No one booed, fell asleep or yelled rude remarks, so I think it was a success.  In fact, these were some of the most enthusiastic kids I’ve been around; they must have had an amazing day, because they were all in high spirits by the time I met them.

There were several stellar moments during the brief hour I spent with them, but my very favorite came at the end.  Popular music was playing as schools were dismissed to get on their buses.  Apparently someone forgot that one of the songs had a swear word in it.  The kids were all singing along when BAM! came a naughty word — and they were thrilled by it.  The priceless expressions of “we weren’t supposed to hear that!” made me giggle.  Jaws dropped.  Eyes lit up.  And despite the fact that the whole day was devoted to the possibility of higher education, I’m pretty sure that the bus ride conversations mostly consisted of, “Did you hear the swear word at the end?  Wasn’t that funny?  Can you believe it?  My mom would be so mad if she knew!  (That’s so cool!)”

But hey, at least now I know that in some circles an expletive is (thankfully) still an expletive.

For whatever reason, I like attending grand openings.  It might have something to do with my previous work in government executive offices attending ribbon cuttings galore.  There are 3 reasons I like grand openings.

First of all, free stuff.  Nearly every grand opening has giveaways and refreshments.  A lot of it is garbage, but I’m American, so I like garbage.

Second, I like being in the know.  I feel a certain sense of pleasure when someone tells me about some “new” restaurant that I ate at 3 months ago.

Most of all, I like seeing the types of people who attend grand openings.

For instance, today I attended the grand opening of the new Nordstrom Rack.  (I, for one, appreciate that Nordstrom Rack always carries my above average shoe size (11) at more reasonable prices than its cousin Nordstrom.  I also appreciate that I can usually find pants that are long enough for my 6’0 tall frame.)

I, along with hundreds of other fashionable people with nothing else to do on a windy Thursday morning, gathered for a chance at winning a free $1000 shopping spree or, worst case scenario, a black tote bag.  (In case you’re wondering, I got a tote bag.)

While standing in line sipping sub-par hot cocoa, I took in the scenery.  One of the first people in line was (or currently is) a cheerleader.  She happily led the crowd in a chorus of, “Let’s go shopping, let’s go (clap clap).  Let’s go shopping, let’s go (clap clap).”  I won’t lie: it totally made my morning.  Proof that cheerleading is relevant in everyday life.

One child protested that he was bored and wanted to leave, to which his mom replied, “No, today is mom’s day.”  There was a man dressed for snowboarding who knew he couldn’t feel good about hitting the slopes without first hitting the Rack.  And there was an elderly gentleman who told me about how grand downtown used to be and how he only likes quality products.  I liked him.

When I finally walked in the store I had to giggle a bit.  They forced all the employees to stand at the front and clap for shoppers as they came in.  It’s a weird sensation.  I sort of think it would be better if people clapped when you made a purchase, but I suppose that bears too much resemblance to parents potty-training their toddlers.

Clapping or not, I bought a pair of shoes.

According to this handy article, we can blame our happiness and centeredness in life to one simple fact: sisters.  It turns out that just having a sister ensures a happier existence in life.  Great news for my 4 brothers, not so great for a sisterless soul like me.  To my helpful brothers pictured above: you’re welcome.