Meg Casey

I am sore today.  My lower back, my hips, my abdomen.  They are all tight.  Not from yoga, but from this.  This hoola hoop.  This wonderful and magical hoola hoop.

Yesterday afternoon felt like early spring.  Jackie and I took the boys to get haircuts and then ended up at her house with another friend.  It was a beautiful day and there was only one thing to do–hang out on the porch, and watch the neighbors float by.  As we watched the kids play, and talked, I picked up one of Jackie’s daughter’s hoola hoops.  “I remember these,” I thought.  “Its just like riding a bike.  I bet I can still do it.”…Yeah…right.

An hour later I was still at it–trying to keep that hoop up that is.  Eric and our friend’s husband came out and took all the kids to the park, but we were too deeply engaged in play to go with them.  We were giggling and cheering each other on, fully absorbed in the games of our youth.

There is no better way to spend a Sunday afternoon with your middle aged girl friends than hoola hoopin’ and jump roping.  

 When it was finally time for us to leave, Max and I headed right for our neighborhood hardware and garden store to pick up–hoola hoops.  Several of them.  One for me, for one Max, one for our housemate…and yes a guest hoop because you never can have too many and you never know when someone is going to stop by to play.

After dinner last night, my housemate and I stayed up giggling trying to keep it going.  You would think with all the dancing we do we would have no problem but no such luck.  I think the best I did was 8 or maybe 10 rounds before the hoop would start to drop.  Tonight after watching us struggle for too long Max finally got up with authority to school us on proper hoola hoop technique.

Its going to be a marvelous spring, my friends. 

Please come over and play.