Sparkle on. Happy 2014!

Northstar Fireworks December 31, 2013 #love

People who know me say I sparkle. I love that. But it really isn't about bling and shiny things. 
My sparkle came from darkness. 
That sounds so dramatic. Sorry about that.

I think being an educator is the best job ever. We get to be creative. We get to collaborate. We make a difference every day with kids.

But it can be tough. Long hours. Deadlines. Paperwork.
Ugh. 
There was one year where my stomach hurt every day when I drove in the parking lot.
That was the year I found my sparkle.

I bought sparkly lip gloss. Sparkly body gel for my face. 
And the biggest FAKE sparkly ring I could find.
Why?

I needed a physical reminder to act sparkly, even when I didn't feel sparkly. 
My closet is filled with sparkly stuff. Necklaces. Even light up high heel glass slippers! 

They are super sexy cute-- and slick as snot! I love them, and only wore them once. It was a slippery experience-- I learned that high heels and polished concrete are not the best combination! One day I will wear them again.

When I was getting ready for the Area 3 Writing Project summer institute in 2012, I had to find an artifact that defined me. I struggled with what to bring. A stuffed animal? A book?

Coincidentally, we were remodeling our master closet that summer. That's when I realized I own TONS of sparkly stuff. 
I knew right away I had to take those sparkly shoes. 
That summer, they even inspired a poem!

I love things that sparkle! 

With this in mind, I share two sparkly things: my poem from that summer and the amazing fireworks display from New Year's Even at Northstar in Truckee last night.

My favorite part? The darkness at the end and the cheer. I love fireworks.

My apologies for filming in portrait. I know better! I hope your 2014 sparkles!

Sparkle

Fireworks move me. Weddings don’t. 

Make me cry. 

Or funerals, either, for that matter.

Sparkle. In my shoes. My soul. 

Sparkle in the sky. Makes me cry. 

But only with music.

Flashes of color. Glass slippers. I’m no Cinderella.

I don’t clean floors. I slip on them. Banana peel style.

In my sparkly, high-heeled, golden glitter shoes.

Sparkle. In my shoes. My soul.

Sparkle In the sky. Makes me cry.

Why?