Girl Clown Dancing is six years old this month.
So, as I’ve done each February since 2016, here’s a roundup of my favorite GCD essays from the last year. Looking
back helps me remember where I was over the last 12 months; also, it’s a glimpse of where I might be in 2021.
Not surprisingly, almost every post touched on COVID-19.
Of course, just like most folks on the planet last January, I knew nothing of the coming pandemic.
So, I wrote then about having to stop the yoga class I loved after one pose that screwed up my glut so severely
that I needed to go to urgent care (https://hilaryrobertsgrant.weebly.com/blog/hip). (Initially, I thought I’d
injured my hip; hence, the post’s title.)
I took some time off and in early March, found a different teacher who had a gentler practice. I paid for a series
of classes, but my timing was lousy. A week later, the plague was official and as of this posting, the studio
remains closed.
However, and still blissfully unaware that the Hubster and I were going to be home a lot more, another purchase
was spot-on.
On an impulse, we bought an oversized puffy recliner not long after the glut incident, placing it in front of
our nearly floor-to-ceiling bay window. For a piece of furniture, it’s given us many hours of peace and
comfort (https://hilaryrobertsgrant.weebly.com/blog/reclining).
Also, like many folks who have found that spending time in the kitchen is cheaper than therapy, cooking and baking
old-timey favorites helped me cope.
To that end, I wrote about the Zen that comes from making snowball cookies in March
(https://hilaryrobertsgrant.weebly.com/blog/snowballs); the nostalgia of whipping up a vintage, lime green Jell-O
salad in June (https://hilaryrobertsgrant.weebly.com/blog/jell-o), and finding the best carrot cake ever in a
most unlikely place in October (https://hilaryrobertsgrant.weebly.com/blog/carrot-cake).
There were somber essays, too.
May’s post is my take on a sermon from the Hubster’s pastor, first heard on a spring Sunday via Zoom. I knew
this piece probably wasn’t going to get the same number of views as my thoughts on snowball cookies, and
I was right. Now, I’m hoping more people might take the time to read it (https://hilaryrobertsgrant.weebly.com/blog/in-between-time).
My final post of 2020 reviewed one of the worst years ever. And because there was a lot of not-great stuff to
cover, it's one of the wordiest posts of the year. (https://hilaryrobertsgrant.weebly.com/blog/2020).
On this topic, raconteur Mark Twain once wrote, “I didn’t have time to write a short letter, so I wrote a long one instead.” I concur; mindful wordsmithing that produces a just-right piece is absolutely more challenging to do than spilling out every thought about every little thing.
So, a promise.
I’ll continue to do my best toward keeping a tight rein on posts, trying for 1,000 words or less.
Thanks for continuing to hang with this Girl Clown.
Also, here’s to a year of great fortune, which includes wrangling a once-in-a-century pandemic that in one way
or another, has affected all of us.
So, as I’ve done each February since 2016, here’s a roundup of my favorite GCD essays from the last year. Looking
back helps me remember where I was over the last 12 months; also, it’s a glimpse of where I might be in 2021.
Not surprisingly, almost every post touched on COVID-19.
Of course, just like most folks on the planet last January, I knew nothing of the coming pandemic.
So, I wrote then about having to stop the yoga class I loved after one pose that screwed up my glut so severely
that I needed to go to urgent care (https://hilaryrobertsgrant.weebly.com/blog/hip). (Initially, I thought I’d
injured my hip; hence, the post’s title.)
I took some time off and in early March, found a different teacher who had a gentler practice. I paid for a series
of classes, but my timing was lousy. A week later, the plague was official and as of this posting, the studio
remains closed.
However, and still blissfully unaware that the Hubster and I were going to be home a lot more, another purchase
was spot-on.
On an impulse, we bought an oversized puffy recliner not long after the glut incident, placing it in front of
our nearly floor-to-ceiling bay window. For a piece of furniture, it’s given us many hours of peace and
comfort (https://hilaryrobertsgrant.weebly.com/blog/reclining).
Also, like many folks who have found that spending time in the kitchen is cheaper than therapy, cooking and baking
old-timey favorites helped me cope.
To that end, I wrote about the Zen that comes from making snowball cookies in March
(https://hilaryrobertsgrant.weebly.com/blog/snowballs); the nostalgia of whipping up a vintage, lime green Jell-O
salad in June (https://hilaryrobertsgrant.weebly.com/blog/jell-o), and finding the best carrot cake ever in a
most unlikely place in October (https://hilaryrobertsgrant.weebly.com/blog/carrot-cake).
There were somber essays, too.
May’s post is my take on a sermon from the Hubster’s pastor, first heard on a spring Sunday via Zoom. I knew
this piece probably wasn’t going to get the same number of views as my thoughts on snowball cookies, and
I was right. Now, I’m hoping more people might take the time to read it (https://hilaryrobertsgrant.weebly.com/blog/in-between-time).
My final post of 2020 reviewed one of the worst years ever. And because there was a lot of not-great stuff to
cover, it's one of the wordiest posts of the year. (https://hilaryrobertsgrant.weebly.com/blog/2020).
On this topic, raconteur Mark Twain once wrote, “I didn’t have time to write a short letter, so I wrote a long one instead.” I concur; mindful wordsmithing that produces a just-right piece is absolutely more challenging to do than spilling out every thought about every little thing.
So, a promise.
I’ll continue to do my best toward keeping a tight rein on posts, trying for 1,000 words or less.
Thanks for continuing to hang with this Girl Clown.
Also, here’s to a year of great fortune, which includes wrangling a once-in-a-century pandemic that in one way
or another, has affected all of us.
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