What's in a name?

A few people have asked, "Why Possum Soup?" I've been thinking on that for a while now. Originally that name came about because it was suggested by Cobbie, the church member who helped me set up the blog in the first place. I liked the sound of it, and figured I'd be encountering plenty of possums while on my sabbatical journey through rural places. The name would be appropriate as I planned to write about all the stuff I'd see along the road (like roadkill...) and would be throwing into the "soup" of my reflections. (How's that for deep?)

Ironically, I never saw a single possum during that whole trip. I have a few at home once in a while outside my condo, but none on the road. The name has stuck though, because I still like the sound of it. Besides, it's still a mix of all the things that strike me as I go through life now here at home. This blog certainly isn't a theological reflection - was never intended to be. It's not a deep treatise on life - that's not my style. All you have to do is read the last entry to know that. I just see and write. I observe and think. Sometimes it's good stuff. Sometimes it's crap. I don't care. It's all the things that make me wonder or make me rejoice or make me complain. It's soup!

So if no more than 2 or 3 people ever try this soup, that's ok with me too. For me, it's an outlet for some of the thoughts that would be rumbling around in my brain keeping me up at night if I didn't write them down somewhere. OK, maybe none of this stuff would really keep me up at night either. It's just something fun to do. Hey, it's just soup.

No more fur!

PETA would be very happy with me. Tonight I am now fur-less. Of course, it's my own fur that I'm finally rid of, thanks to the leg waxing I just got done this evening. It's only the second time I've had it done, but I think it's going to become more of a routine for me - at least at winter's end.

It sure was nice to go most of the winter without shaving. Since no one sees my legs under the pants and tights I wear all winter, I can get away with that. And there is certainly no one who feels my legs besides the cats ... and they don't care if I'm furry just like them. But the time had most definitely come to get rid of the winter growth. I wanted to wear shorts during our weekend warm-up, but couldn't bare these legs to the world. I felt like I was turning into a bear or something.

It sure does give you a lot of time to wonder as you're lying there on the table with some young thing ripping the hair out of your legs. I found myself wondering who in the world thought of removing hair this way anyway? Why do we women go through such things all for the sake of vanity? Would men ever put themselves through something like this without it being some form of forced torture? And how does someone manage to do this as a job? It certainly seems like a very unappealing way to spend your day. I mean really... I am sure there are some people with far more disgusting legs than mine (not to mention some other areas that get waxed.....)

I've also come to realize a few things about myself. I really do have a pretty good pain tolerance. It's not too bad getting this done once you get past the initial shock. It's also more painful in those areas that are not as toned. Toned areas have tighter skin, so the ripping of the hair isn't bad. My inner thighs however..... well, they will probably always be painful to wax. Getting your legs waxed is also a good way to temporarily forget about a headache - the pain of the hairs being pulled out distracts you from the headache.

I have also learned that no matter how much I may say I don't care about vanity, some things just are too much - like having hairy legs (for me anyway.) Sometimes you just need to attend to the little things to feel bring your spirits up in big ways.