cartwheels.

i don’t know about you, but i was once addicted obsessed psycho about gymnastics.

every day at recess i would dart to the very unsafe & mildly supervised section of the playground where my favorite equipment lived.

i looked forward to my daily reunion with the rusty balance beams.

yes, at 11:23 am every day i turned into dominque mo-chi-ahn-new. or technically speaking: dominique moceanu

i was an olympic gymnast, practicing vigorously for my next competition with my 3rd grade rivals.

my friends & i would take turns on the ‘rusty’s’ – judging each other on the 1-10 scale, critiquing our form, our creativity, our passion.

it was all i thought about before recess, during recess & after recess.

i had no technical training. just some old VHS tapes of recorded olympics footage and a few magazine articles of dominque’s favorite boy bands.

but i didn’t care. i was self-taught & passionate. if the ‘rusty’s’ were being used, i resorted to perfecting my cartwheel skills. i knew i needed to also be a strong force at the floor competition. so i carted my wheel all over the field, one after the other, spinning, wheeling.

i was in my own little gymnastics world, where i was the olympian & everyone else was there to watch, marvel, at my talent.

i love these memories. one day, you should ask me about how cartwheels changed my life forever. it’s a tad bit inappropes for the blog . . . but i would definitely tell you face-to-face, so ASK ME.

– – – memory lane story DONE – – –

per usual – here’s a video update of my past week.  it was a long & stressful one, but i’m thankful. i’m thankful because i survived, i gained strength, i pushed through.

travel with me on a few car rides as i explain some random childhood memories, i have a bit of road rage, i read the bible & do some math. it’s quite riveting.