I went to an American high school in 9th grade, but didn't really participate in school social events at all. I don't think at that time that 9th graders were even allowed to go to Homecoming. Not that I would have gone. Because I was antisocial and all that.
When we moved to Germany I attended the German high school for a year even though I didn't know German. My Dutch classmate convinced me to go to a class party in honor of the French foreign exchange students. It ended up being a party with dancing. If I had known there was going to be dancing I never would have gone because I'd never danced and felt insecure about flailing around.
But I was already there, and everyone was dancing, so my friend convinced me to go out on the dance floor and bop up and down with her. Just up and down. Then side to side. Then crazy moves like no one cares. And I was like, "cool. I can do this, it's actually fun."
Then a slow song came on and one of the French guys asked me to slow dance. I was horrified. I didn't know French, I hardly knew German, I could barely speak to him. I'd never danced before and I had especially never slow danced while, you know, touching.
The next school I went to, a missionary kid boarding school, didn't allow dancing (we had banquets instead of dances). Though I did enjoy
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Jessica texted me a while ago and told me that her daughter had a hockey tournament in Rochester. It was a busy weekend for us, but we were able to find the time to watch her daughter's team on Saturday night. Then Jessica and I went out for a glass of wine and girl time while the dad's took the girls to the hotel pool. (What great dads/husbands we have!!)
Such a treasure, to be able to get to know Jessica better. We had such a good time visiting that we decided we need more girl time... A Therapeutic Girl's Weekend. Stat!
Jessica and I have been trying to get our two girls to be pen pals since they met last year, but they have yet to exchange letters. After Sarah got home from swimming with Annika, she wanted to know when we'd see them again because she had fun with her.
"I don't know when we'll get to see them again, honey, but maybe now you will want to write her."
"Mom," she said with a straight face and a twinkle in her eye. "That would require paper. And an envelope. And a stamp! Being pen pals costs money."
Part of me had to laugh at her reasoning. The other part of me was sad that the art of letter writing is lost.
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This week's Brene Brown lesson was about the messages we tell ourselves and ways we need to practice more self-compassion. These are a few of the messages I need to remember to tell myself.
I love the white trim so much more than the 70s dark stained trim. I might just want all the trim in our house white. That will probably take about five years to get done.
I'm @annebickle on Instagram if you wanna follow me. Linking up with @jeannettg for InstaFriday.