I live in Ottawa, Canada, and even I found this image stunning.
Winter is here, but it has been too “warm” (a relative term) to produce ice thick enough to support people on the Rideau Canal Skateway—the world’s largest skating rink. The conditions did produce this natural beauty though.
I’ll take it, even as I count the days until I can tie up my skates to glide on that ice.
Did you know that Scholl Exercise Sandals boxes are the perfect size for holding plastic slide containers? We have several Scholl boxes full of slides in our basement.
I’ve been transferring some old photos from slides to digital. As I sorted through the images choosing which ones to transfer, I contemplated the Scholl’s box.
Exercise sandals? In no way was that footwear appropriate for exercise.
I owned several pairs myself and loved them, but I never once wore them to go for a run, or even a brisk walk for that matter. I would never have considered wearing them to join a pick-up game of ball.
Those sandals count as exercise footwear only if anything we put on our feet to walk around is also to be considered exercise wear: exercise rubber boots, exercise, socks, exercise stilettos.
Great marketing idea, I guess, because people love to think they are exercising, but accurate? I don’t think so.
We’re still falling for similar misleading advertising for diet and exercise products, according to this Saturday Evening Post article: “Con Watch: Avoiding Weight Loss Scams.” Will we never learn?
I’m going to put on my exercise slippers and walk to the fridge while I think about it.
But, how can we hasten slowly? Isn’t that an oxymoron?
And yet, it seems we do. All the good stuff comes out of hastening slowly.
A university degree: scribbling notes and typing assignments during caffeine-driven all-nighters . . . for four years
A thriving marriage: juggling careers and taking whirlwind vacations, chasing around after toddlers, paying down the mortgage . . . for decades
Children: pacing the floor during sleepless nights, car pooling to hockey games, gritting teeth at parent-teacher interviews, wanting everything to be perfect for them . . . for, well, forever
Published writing: handwriting first drafts, transcribing messy second drafts, editing, reading aloud, pacing, getting up in the middle of the night to change a word . . . for days, weeks, years
When rewards are slow coming, it is easy to get discouraged. Whether it is raising money for a good cause, learning a language, landing a recording contract, establishing the perfect garden, or mastering the “Moonlight Sonata” on piano, we must push on.
And if we stop typing, juggling, paying, pacing, gritting, planting, weeding, watering, playing, practising, reciting, conversing—if we stop hastening—then we never reach the goal.
Whatever your destination, hasten to it, and slowly you will arrive.
So, I’ve had time on my hands, you know? Good time to sort through photos.
I found some oldies-but-goodies from the days of film. Remember when we had to shoot off a roll without knowing how the shots turned out until developed? None of this “Oh, that’s not a good one. Delete.”
Some of these old photos are terrible. And they are so, so wonderful.
Like this one of my mother- and father-in-law dancing at a hall in Toronto. They are the couple in the very bottom right corner of a crooked photo of . . . pillars, more than anything. But I love it. See how happy they are? Don’t you wish you were that happy right now?
This is my grandmother, probably around 1983 or so. It’s a terrible picture—crooked and overexposed with light from the window—but I love it. She lived with us for the last year of her life, and she spent a lot of time knitting by the fire. Our dog used to sit like Snoopy on his dog house on the back of the chair beside her. This terrible photo makes my heart as warm as the fire she was sitting beside.
We can’t forget the classic “thumb over the lens” pictures. Here’s one of my father-in-law, red polka-dot hat on his head, hammer in hand. What is not to love about this terrible, wonderful photo?