Observables #61

on track suits, volunteering and the art of the memoir

Husband and wife track suits, also called “kits.” I’m not really excited by my kit anymore (old news). But Simon’s kit? New news! He made the whole family grin when he modelled it at his birthday dinner. A man discovering a track suit in his mid forties is something you should witness. So we’re all winning. Me because I picked it and opted for the right colour (I was tempted by yellow but talked myself down); Simon because he has a new outfit to wear 8 days in a row (he’s a creature of habit).

Unfortunately, he’s not so keen to wear both parts of the kit in public at the same time.

I tried to point out that when worn separately it’s just a hoodie and jogging pants. He shrugged, which I take to mean, I can’t have everything.

We did a dance competition in our kits and Violet gave us a 7/10. She said our floor work was good, but we needed more energy. More on this another time :)

Devotion by Dani Shapiro.

I learned about Shapiro in a memoir writing course I took via Coursera. The course was part of a 7-day free trial that I had no intention of keeping, so I had to soak in all the learning at a frantic pace. It wasn’t an optimal learning environment—speed reading every lesson—but I did absorb one key takeaway: memoir must have an angle or be rooted in a question you want to explore. Writing “the story of your life” is too big. Options: “My life drinking coffee” or “My life as a PK” (pastor’s kid) or “All my unfinished projects.” Any votes?

Devotion is Shapiro’s memoir (one of many) written in mid-life as she fumbles her way toward her expression of faith after her son’s traumatic illness.

Little kids coming through my photo booth station at Violet’s school fundraiser.  I was a little disappointed that my volunteering station was in a closet. I don’t recommend closets in schools as a place to live your best life. I wondered why I was so tired while taking polaroids of adorable children, until I realized it was the reduced oxygen! (Elsie also confirmed that her eyelids start to droop when she walks into her school.)

Regardless of what was happening inside my body, Violet was happy to see me volunteering (and Simon outside wrapping hot dogs). “You seemed like you were having fun,” she said, which I hope is part of one of her memoirs. One time my mom volunteered at the Fall Fête and I felt…loved.