Everything about this week has been a portion of the perfect formula for motivating me to get moving. Don’t get me wrong – I love to move, love exercising, being outside, going for a brisk walk for an hour or two. But since the kid was born (once I got past those tough first weeks) I’ve thoroughly enjoyed meandering. Usually with a cup of coffee or an apple in hand, a camera around the neck, culminating in a nice lounging position on a blanket under the trees somewhere. In the earlier days, when she was almost always asleep during these times, I read a book or caught up on the phone with a friend, or dozed off. I once even did a crossword puzzle from an abandoned New York Times (I used to do those daily years back – man, I miss them.) But now the baby is awake more on these ventures – she loves the outdoors – and as long as that stroller is moving she’s looking…at the trees, the sky, the houses, at me. Mostly me. And I’ve found the faster I walk, the warmer I get, the harder I breathe, the more she laughs. Really laughs. The steeper the better. It’s as if she knows that she’s a thirteen pound weight in a thirty-five pound stroller and the steeper the hill, the nicer the calves. I’m not sure how nice my calves are, but I do love the smiles, so hills we climb. For those of you locals… Art Hill, the gravel hiking paths at Laumeier Sculpture Park, Big Cat Country at the Zoo (need I say more?)… she’s smiling all over herself. And I’m the red faced, sweaty girl at the top of the hill grinning right back at her.