When I was 14 and a freshman in high school, I was on the drill team. I didn't feel like I fit in all that well, but damn, I loved to dance, and dance I did. We had a very rigorous schedule, performing at football games (halftime show with the band, tall flags, rifles, etc.) in the fall, and competing in halftime show competitions, then designing an entirely new indoor show for spring competitions. These events were fraught with tension and excitement, with girls spraying each other's hair and trying to apply large amounts of eyeliner while bouncing around on the bus.

We had lots of costume elements to manage -- boots, dresses, fringy vests, hats, tons of makeup, pantyhose, hairpins, etc. One time I forgot my hat for a competition, so I called my mom and asked her to bring it. Eventually we were taking our places on the sidelines, getting ready to go on, and my mom had not yet arrived, and my rank leader was flipping out because if I didn't have my hat, I wouldn't be allowed to perform, and the team would have to "dance a hole," basically dancing around my empty spot, and the performance would look less polished. Although I wanted to go on, and felt bad about forgetting my hat, I was pretty calm about it. "Aren't you worried about this??" my rank leader, Debbie, asked as we waited. "Well," I replied, "there's pretty much nothing I can do about it at this point."

I'm trying to cultivate that type of attitude toward a lot of things these days, although it's definitely an effort. Such an effort! As I look at my calendar, filled with things to do and commitments to fulfill, I find myself panicking and thinking I'll never get everything done. But the thing is...deadlines will arrive regardless of how I feel about them, and my attitude about them determines the quality of my days. I can spend my time worrying myself silly, or I can take some deep breaths and get on with things. It's a lesson I have to teach myself every day, and I don't always remember it. I hope I get better at this with time.

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In other news, I was on the computer yesterday and my son was climbing on me for a minute when he fell on the floor. I guess his foot had gotten hooked on my chair, although one never knows with that kid. Anyway, I looked over at him and asked him if he was okay, and he got up, thought about it, and indignantly replied, "I did NOT give my leg permission to do that!" I must have laughed for about a minute. Funniest thing I'd heard all day. :-)

[Note: My mom did bring my hat in time, and no child-legs were harmed in the writing of this post.]