Drinking and (not) Driving

If I start to cry for no apparent reason,  my daughter gets instantly agitated. But she's grown up a lot this last school year, and even these last few weeks, noting things such as how she has just started to realize how hard it is for other people when she is feeling low and having a not great attitude about things (skating in this case.) It was a very impressive observation. Then she went on to talk about how horrible she felt about it and what a bad person she was for that. Like most of us, she has a little ways to go in the self-acceptance and self-forgiveness department. I can relate! So when, for no apparent reason (in her mind, and frankly a bit in mine as well) I began to cry on our ride home from the hair place where I got my hair cut (yes, I chose one at random--passed it by on my way to the Urban Bean yesterday--and let someone I didn't know at all cut my hair!), she was immediately annoyed with me.

                                   

                                                    A new haircut is always a good thing--my hair is still a renewable resource so far.

I think I mentioned in yesterday's blog that there is nowhere to hide for us, so there I was. Perhaps a sad song came on the radio, or I flashed on some memory that evoked my loneliness (more likely a combination of the two!). And she asked me what was wrong, and I actually told her because I don't like it when I ask her what is wrong and she won't tell me. And she harassed me about it (ouch) and I felt pretty lousy, though I have to recall that she's a 16-year-old girl who I bet would like to feel like her parents are always able to take care of her. This probably didn't feel very solid to her. So I got a bit grumpy and then left for Core and then Yoga and came home a little more centered (and a lot sweatier). And then we went to dinner, which cheered her up considerably. 

I had a local beer--or some of one (I'm such a cheap date).

Afterwards we saw the car below in the parking lot of the lovely French Meadow Cafe. It was a thrill for my daughter. She wishes we could stay in Minneapolis and live here. I mutter something to her about the winters, and then catch myself--this is the girl who is a figure skater and who loves the cold.  So Minneapolis, at least for the moment, is really her kind of city.