This morning I was interviewed at CBC for my blog by a host producing a show  due to air this summer. She had read my blog last week and felt it said so much she had wanted to communicate through this show that she wanted me  to read many of my blog posts on air. More importantly, she felt I had spoken for her, a divorced mom of two young children.

We had an immediate connection beyond the obvious and  no shortage of things to talk  about over the last few long phone conversations. After I read one of my favourite passages, I said, without thinking, ” ohhh, I love that one” and then “what does it mean to love your own stuff and admit to it?” She said – ‘well, that is the most beautiful gift on earth.’

I can’t help but agree. When Christine Nesbitt won the gold medal for the 1000 metre speed skate she said she “wasn’t happy” and that her skate “wasn’t pretty.” Her father re inforced her statement by adding that this self judgement brought her to where she is today.

Ok,  maybe true. But is she having any fun? Is she enjoying herself or her self?

Today was not the Olympics for me but it was a small  moment to be recognised for what I am doing- not perfectly, not always pretty but doing something with my self in the middle of it. To be supported doing what you love and to have people appreciate it  is more than  pretty.

I keep telling my children not to be the obnoxious one when they get the 97% and tell everyone with a sour face that they  are sad to have missed those three marks. Somewhere in the crowd is a person just dying to get the Bronze with the flexed arm hang, hoping to pass the math exam, wishing to have a few people sign up for their blog, laugh at their joke, ask for seconds at their table  or tell them their butt does not look big in those jeans.

Today expensive parking was  reduced by a smile, no one  was waiting for me in security, a pissed off producer of Fresh Air was mad to be interrupted because no one else was available to escort me up to the sound booth, there  was a cough button (love that), a headset from someone’s  1970’s rec room stereo, an oversized microphone that gave off a hissing sound, a coffee stained rug- covered desk top, a red button that indicated”on air” and a clock that ticked loudly. Just me alone in a low budget sound room.

Today was not pretty. It was downright gorgeous.