The invitation – typed on my mom’s old college typewriter with it’s italic font. No Bruce, it’s not just an app!
I’ve been thinking about messaging a lot lately, partly because I’m helping several clients craft brand messages and adverts at the moment, but also because I’m planning a party. Bear with me, it’s not quite as random as it sounds!
A few years back – before moving to Cape Town, before getting married, before setting aside my high heel shoe collection – the barefoot man and I had two little red notebooks that we kept to write to each other in when we were apart. When we met up again, we’d swop them and read what had been written to us in our absence.
“Pole-dancing?”, my barefoot husband raised his eyebrows at me. “Really?” he asked, “it just makes me laugh! So odd….”. Ah well, can’t please everyone.
It sounds really out-there, I know, but what I discovered doing a trial class a few weeks ago in a stunning new industrial pole-dancing studio called “The Pole Project”, is that it’s damn hard work to look that odd! And when you watch the teachers and the advanced classes, it really doesn’t look odd to me at all – it’s just very impressive.
In early January the barefoot man and I set off on his new V-Strom 1000 (that’s a very big Suzuki motorbike, for the uninformed amongst us!) and headed out for ten days of cell-phones off, as many dirt roads as possible, and new views around every corner. Heaven, in short.
On Sunday, the last day, after the talking, after the processioning, after the burying, the barefoot man and I took to the mountain. Phoebe-dog came too. It is our meditation, that mountain, our church.