What’s your idea of the perfect first date?


[Photos via We Heart It]
What’s your idea of the perfect first date?
[Photos via We Heart It]
I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with Old Man Winter. On the one hand, there’s nothing like sitting in front of the fire on a cold December morning, hot chocolate in hand, and watching the snow fall outside your window. But battling those freezing temps? Well, that’s never really been my style. So, it’s no surprise that I’ve always daydreamed of bottling up the goodness of summer and carrying it with me throughout the entire year. Have a question? I’d love to hear it, so feel free to email me (mellow1422 [at] aol) or ask me on Facebook or Twitter, friends! Today’s question is…
Why is summer your favorite season? Why would you like it to be summer year-round?
Why is it that once we reach a certain age, some of the warm and sunny and beautiful summer days tend to lose some of their beauty in our adult eyes? And why can’t we carry that breezy, warm summer feeling with us into the cold, dark, dreary winter?
Well, I for one am not going to let that happen to me. This winter, I’m vowing to put summer in my pocket (metaphorically, of course…) and take it with me wherever I go. Like a trusty best friend. Like a good luck charm. Always there. Always faithful. Will you join me? Check out some of my favorite ideas:
Good Eats
I’m trying to eat a little healthier this summer – thanks, Jamie Oliver! My mom and I have been eating lots of yummy salads and tomatoes in the summer. Do you like salt on your tomatoes and cucumbers, or is it just me? We’ve also been enjoying juicy peaches and strawberries, too. Oh, and raspberries! Can you tell summer fruits and veggies are my favorites?
Good Games
When I was younger, we loved Clue, one of the only games that brought out my father’s competitive streak. Then a few summers ago, my mother and I started playing Yahtzee at least once a day. You should know the routine by now: We pour ourselves a tall glass of Diet Coke, and play three games in a row. It’s our favorite game. We recently added a new game to our repertoire: Bananagrams. It’s a spin-off of Scrabble but more fast-paced, which I love.
Good Waves
One of my favorite childhood memories is of my father dashing off to the local pool with me the second he got home from work in the hot summer months. He was always that parent, the one that always gave in to my “Just five more minutes” pleas. Every. Single. Time. There was always something about that weightless feeling in the pool that made me feel like I wasn’t disabled, if only for awhile. Sometimes, I just used to walk back and forth in the 3-feet end, waiting for that moment when my feet would meet the bottom of the pool. The hard concrete stung my feet sometimes, but just that motion of literally putting one foot in front of the other made me smile, as if I were actually walking. Sometimes I’d even do a little dance, too. I didn’t care if anyone was watching, either!
So, friends, what little treats will you be savoring this winter? xoxo
“I want to be Mona,” whispered my mother.
Her words spoke to the masses. It was a lesson in all things hip. Chic. A secret glimpse into the future.
I’m a pretty shy girl, so I’ve never actually said any of this to Mona, but I was always watching. Studying. Analyzing. Sometimes older sisters come in not-so-traditional forms, but when you find them, they can help you find yourself, whether they even know it or not. Who knows, maybe even some of Mona’s lessons have seeped into the older sister I’ve become.
[Photos via Audrey Hepburn Complex]
What do you think is the biggest misconception about people with disabilities?
[Photos via Le Love]
It’s not often that I remember my dreams. I usually wake up with a vague recollection that I had a dream, but that’s about as far as my memory goes — everything else remains fuzzy. Well, until a few years ago, that is. And the more I think about it, the more I realize how telling the dream actually was. Have a question? I’d love to hear it, so feel free to email me (mellow1422 [at] aol) or ask me on Facebook or Twitter, friends! Today’s question is…
What was the last vivid dream you had?
I’m nothing if not a pragmatic woman. I’ve never given heed to those urban legends, myths, superstitions and other bugaboos. And dreams? Authors have devoted entire books to interpreting your dreams, from the hidden meaning behind being lost in a proverbial forest to the reason your subconscious chose a black cat instead of a white one.
Rubbish, I’d say. Plain and simple. Your dreams are merely a scientific phenomenon akin to your heart pumping blood through your veins. It’s just another body system doing its job.
Here’s how my little movie played out: My father (I know – clue #1 that this isn’t your run-of-the-mill dream) and I are in a parking lot. We see two suspicious men (clue #2) and begin to fear for our safety.
“Let’s get out of here, father,” I suggest.
Just as we were getting into the car, those suspicious men pummeled my father to the ground (clue #3). I wanted so desperately to give those guys a Batman-style POW, but I noticed both my legs were wrapped in huge casts which made me a huge piece of dead weight. I squirmed and squealed and shrieked, but it proved useless (clue #4).
So I just had to sit there, watching the horrible tragedy unfold, knowing there was nothing I could do. I was trapped and my father was gone (clue #5).
The post-movie review and discussion I had with myself involved lots of phrases like “Of course.” “That’s so obvious.” “It doesn’t take an Einstein to figure out the meaning of that one.”
This dream was real. It was scary. It was sad. And yet, it was cathartic all in one sort-of-cruel, twisted punch. It was as if I was looking at myself in my dream, although it was a different version of me. The raw me, stripped down of all facades and all protective walls. It was a vulnerable position. A vulnerable me.
Take it from me: When we dismiss our dreams, they have a way of creeping up on us. Again and again. Because in the end, that random dream you keep having might not be, well, so random. There’s something there, and maybe it’s time to face it; after all, things don’t look as scary in the morning light as they do in the deep, dark night.
[Photos via We Heart It]