"Good Medicine"

One can not leave a Zumba class in a bad mood I say. I love dance fitness. The class is full of men and women of all ages. I see 100 year old folk in there, okay some really seasoned dancers are in there, and I relish at the opportunity to watch em all! My favorite is the belly dancing intertwined with sexy Latin dances. Of course the first few times you go in you are as stiff and gangly. Talk about being dorkalicious. Then after a few classes, you could see yourself dancing with the...star...VFW, or something. The class is pretty powerful. The energy is vibrant and exhilarating. The world music that is played and the mix of ages and cultures that attend create an atmosphere that has moved me to laugh and even well up with a tear. My favorite character is the older gentleman that shwoops up his hair, about like a swirl cone and hair sprays it abundantly. It is distracting after awhile, but I esteem his tenacity. All the shaking and jiggling - all -about to the Reggieton is about as ent

I get so burned when I see displays of women scantily clad in advertisements , even Victoria's Secret are out of line. If your children are embarrassed to hand you the mail with those catalogs in them, they have gone too far with the half dressed models. I just want my daughter to believe that women are to be cherished, admired yes- but in a sanctimonious way. I want them to be revered for their beauty within, I'd love for their wisdom to be as much apart of any accolades they receive as much as their looks are. I always tell my children how wonderful they are, of course I ask em' why the heck they are soo cute all the time (it's my moral obligation), but I also say, "Did I tell you how smart, wise and wonderful you are today?" I know the world will do a real bang up job telling them how wonderful they are, right? I know when I was a child I had the red hair and freckles that every one loves to point out. I did not really get a complex because of that, I go

Michael and I got, married in downtown Las Vegas. We literally we wearing jeans and slippahs. My hair was in a ponytail, and I had a coke stain on my shirt. We were whisked away in a limo, and my nephew was our witness. The ceremony was short and sweet - we didn't even have rings. During the ceremony the minister pulled a rock out of his pocket shaped like a heart. He said to exchange it with each other during the good times and the times we need an extra special touch. It sits on our bedside table, and we use it sparingly. I may find it with a note of love, or I have put it in Mike's pocket so he would find it when he is at work and needs love. Today, our two-year old daughter Serena found the heart on on bedside table. She said, "What is this?" I said, "It's my heart." She gloated over the rock, and looked up and said; "Your heart is so pretty, I love it." Then, (she must have known it had immense value) because she said, "Can I hold it