Dancing

I watched as the leaves truly curled their way to the limestone steps, the vine, the hosta leaves. They came down slowly in light that was just beginning to brighten.

I can’t dance. Never really been able to. Tried. Failed. Tried again.

The word, however, holds me in its grace. Dance. Begins strong and ends softly. Two days ago I used “dance” in a small speech at a charity luncheon. I used it to draw a picture of my involvement with this charity. A slow, almost cautious interchange that grew rich over time.

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Today I spoke it silently in my mind when I walked outside and our maple tree was beginning her fall. The leaves have been tipped with yellow for about a week – the cooler temperatures and rain usually bring it on – but very few had fallen. Now light brown was waltzing into the yellow ever so slightly.

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I stood there entranced, again, at the majesty of this tree in our front yard. It is over three stories tall and shades us brilliantly all spring and summer from the western sun. She is older and lovely, shapely and arching.

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I watched as the leaves truly curled their way to the limestone steps, the vine, the hosta leaves. They came down slowly in light that was just beginning to brighten.

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They danced through the air in no great rush before landing silently. I was held in their sway until I just had to go to work. I was late. I believe I would have sat there all day watching. Yearning to fall into a dance that gorgeous.

Someday. Someday I will dance.

Sloane

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Vanity

Yesterday a good man posted photos that included touching words about my sister, me and our store. The post on Facebook was in celebration…

Yesterday a good man posted photos that included touching words about my sister, me and our store. The post on Facebook was in celebration of community, connection and charity. I was very proud of his words.

Sadly, I was also horrified by two of the images. I am embarrassed to admit it, but I was shocked at my big butt. That is all I could see. I wanted those photos gone.

I was blinded by my vanity. I cried. I was mean to myself. I had a vicious internal conversation with myself. I treated myself with hate and loathing.

This morning I woke and laid in bed thinking about how I ruined the kindness of that post. I alone was to blame. I looked at my lovely daughter sleeping next to me and I cried. But, this time I cried about my stupidity and vanity.

I will not ask to have those photos removed. I will never see those images the same way again.

Those images are now a reminder to not judge myself so harshly. I will breath in the kind words written about me and I will learn love myself.

Casey

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Quote Me

Sometimes, you just gotta put words together until they fit perfectly to your environment, emotions and life.

This week was a whirlwind. Casey and I kept many meetings outside the store. We volunteered, dined and visited with many people beyond the limits of our store. At each event, I found myself mesmerized by what people said when describing their work world and lives.

“penalty kick shoot out”

“swells & riptides”

“warm, white box”

“work & turn”

“own a niche”

“blow smoke up myself”

I know Casey and I speak a language unique to our industry, yet I can’t think of one phrase as I write this. When we were political consultants, everything was an acronym: RON (rest over night), PDQ (pretty damn quick), FYI (for your information). Some were even more specific to clients and jobs. Again, they escape me.

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But one quote I will never forget – spoken just between Casey and me in private until right now – and that makes me laugh all these years later is “monumental crap shit fest”.

Sometimes, you just gotta put words together until they fit perfectly to your environment, emotions and life.

You can quote me on that.

Sloane

Photo: My desk today. I surround myself with quotes and images at work. Not surprisingly, my most packed board on Pinterest is called “Saying Something”. Quote, quote and more quotes.

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Copyright Casey Simmons and S. Sloane Simmons. People who steal other people's words & thoughts are asshats. Don't be an asshat.