Nothing Chic about it....

So, I've been sitting in the Pavillion - in the gloaming, enjoying the night sounds, the cool air and my multi- colored happy lights. I am exhausted by my weekend - most of it a good, happy busy, some of it - not so much. As I pulled in my driveway for the umpteenth time this afternoon, I noticed that my beautiful zinnia's by the mailbox were about 3 weeks past their prime (I'm sure the neighbors are politely, fervently wishing that we would pull them up), my pots by the front door are suffering from benign neglect (bordering on the pathological), and there are piles of limbs scattered around the back from Friday nights storms. In short...we are projecting a decidedly shabby air over here. Inside - not much better. The house is STILL sporting it's original horrendous green carpet (In our defense - it was the first thing we were going to change when we bought the house, and then the HVAC died....in the previous owners defense, I'm sure it was high style and quite lovely in it's day....25 years ago....), My kitchen cabinets which I so meticulously painted 5 years ago before we moved in are starting to have an unintentionally distressed look about them and the Dadgummed Cat has chewed a small escape hole in every  window screen in the house.....shabby in.....shabby out, and nothing Chic about it. So back to the Pavillion....As I was sitting there in my favorite flannel nightgown (I am woman enough to admit that yes, I was in my nightclothes before 8:00p.m.) it occurred to me that I might like to have a vacation...I would like to be able dive at will, into the Pinterest Boards that I have so lovingly created- just like in that movie, where the main Character fell into the book, and became a part of it's action....but which board would I choose? The obvious, the "Places I would like to Go" board requires more energy than I currently posses, and must be saved for another time. The "My favorite Recipes" board could be a contender, except for the fact that I am trying to be a better me, when it comes to my eating habits. Perhaps "My Favorite Places" would do....it is full of pictures of Porch Swings and meadows, Mountains and Beaches - plenty of options for some R&R. Or perhaps I should give "My Dream House" a shot....pictures of rustic, beautiful homes, where each room is more wonderful than the last....where the Shabby is truly chic, and the bathtubs are large and possessing an obscene amount of jets....double sinks, glass tiles - gleaming laundry rooms and dens with soaring ceilings and wall to wall windows. Kitchens where food must surely cook itself, due to the wonders of flooring, high end light fixtures, granite topped islands and upgraded appliances....Bedrooms of softest hues, with 1,000 count cotton sheets and private veranda's with water features and a fire pit....What a fantasy THAT would be! But there I sat, mesmerized by the glow of my happy lights, reflected in the old glass topped table, listening to the sounds of my family inside...girls giggling, Husband talking on the phone, Crackhouse Puppy chuffing - wanting to come out and be with me - breathing in the smells of newly fallen wet leaves mixed with the sweet perfume of bacon, left over from our Sunday night breakfast for dinner, and I decide that perhaps I should make a new board for my Pinterest, to go along with all of my dreams.....A "Reality" board - filled with folk art, old family treasures and bright colors; carpets strewn with discarded shoes and socks, infused with music, laughter and the rumble of beloved voices - fragrant with freshly baked bread, homemade suppers, and wet dog.....decidedly shabby, nothing Chic about it....but all mine.

Bug Day Afternoon.....

So.....I spent the afternoon doing errands. I say this only by way of explaining why I was going a different way to pick the girls up from school...I came in the back way - through the neighborhood and past the Middle School, instead of going directly to the High School lot.  I had finished the errands a little early, and was happy that I would have a few moments to sit in the car with the windows down and read my book. I stopped at the last stop sign before the main road leading to the High School...a woman in a blue SUV was stopped on the main road, waiting to turn left, into the neighborhood. Cars were coming from the left, so I looked down to change the CD, and then I heard it....BOOM! I looked up to see the SUV turning down beside me, while in front of me, a Man lay in the road with a scooter on top of him. The SUV lady stopped (her window was also down), looked at me and said, "Good Lord, that Man done hit the back of my car!"  Scooter Man had run right into the back of the SUV...no brake marks - nothing...just ran right into the car. I threw my car in Park, and opened the door - SUV lady called 911, while Scooter Man starts hollering for help - his leg is pinned under the scooter. Cars were stopping all over the place...the first three were driven by Men....none of whom showed the LEAST inclination to get out and help. I started across the street, and by the time I reached the scooter, a man from the first stopped car joined me, and we pulled the scooter off of the injured guy. While Scooter Man was trying to stand, another man appeared - this one dirty and disheveled....he started moving in circles around us, speaking an incantation of gibberish and gesturing wildly with his hands.I can only hope he was calling down some sort of blessing, and not laying some kind of voodoo on us. As the Spirit Man walked away, Scooter Man resumes his very rapid Spanish - of which I understand very little....I did understand, however, that he must be returning from the cantina - I was surprised that his breath did not ignite on impact, so strong were the fumes that accompanied his frenzied speech. Just as the police arrive, we get Man and Scooter up onto the sidewalk. As I was giving my statement to an Officer, I kept an eye and an ear on the action over by the scooter....Not only did this poor fellow crash into a car, he seemed to have no license, no recollection of his birth date, and the officer taking his statement appeared to have a very good sense of smell. It didn't take a law enforcement official to figure out where this scenario was going, and as I drove off to get the girls, the old adage crossed my mind - "Some days you are the windshield.....and some days you are the bug.".....uh....yep.

The REST of the story....

You know how Paul Harvey made a career off of the phrase "And now....for the REST of the story".....? Well - I have one of those. If you read my Facebook status yesterday you know that I had a fun little trip to the Harris Teeter....I went for ingredients to make Pizza Rolls for supper. In my new, fly by the seat of my pants kind of way (I REALLY miss the more organized me....I hope she will come home soon), I was in a hurry, so I am kind of amazed that I took the time to look at the expiration date on the Canadian Bacon. Imagine my surprise when I saw that it was over a month past it's "use by" date. This forced me to buy the more expensive name brand, which didn't sit well with me....I alerted the manager to his shelf full of shrink wrapped botulism, and full of gratitude for the countless number of lives I might have saved, he presented me with a ten dollar gift card, which more than covered the cost of the expensive product. With the remaining amount, I splurged and bought the October issue of my favorite magazine (Southern Living!). Needless to say, I was feeling pretty pleased with myself as I headed home.....enter...."The REST of the STORY"! With a spring in my step, I started my chores - put the load of laundry in the dryer, preheated the oven to 425, and started chopping the meats for the pizza rolls.(This might be a good time to tell you that I had plans with friends - a much needed night out, so I was working with time constraints....). As I was chopping away, the smoke alarm sounded - not to be concerned - this happens sometimes if there is a little something in the bottom of the stove.....Babiest girl grabbed a towel, and waved it around under the alarm until it stopped it's super sonic screeching. Back to the chopping....smoke alarm sounds again.... more towel waving - you get the picture...just replay it 4 or 5 times and this sets the scene. In the midst of it all, I hear a sickening thud from the laundry room. Somehow, the giant GALLON jug of bleach has been thrown off the back of the dryer, spewing the entirety of it's contents on the antique rug, my Grandma's washstand, a pair of shoes( I can now attest to the fact that Crocs are like cockroaches...indestructible!), not to mention the floor and surrounding walls. I jerk up the rug and run with it to the carport....umm....pavilion. I grab the dog washing towels on my way back in and start sopping up the floor, wiping down the furniture (Insert the kitchen word of your choice here...trust me, I was using them all!)...what a mess! I return to my pizza rolls, somewhat lacking in my usual Zen feeling, as I roll out the dough. On goes the tomato sauce, spices, meats and then the delicate task of rolling, pulling and tacking the dough....as I pinch the seam closed on the first roll it hits me...I have forgotten the CHEESE (insert another Kitchen word of your choosing). As I struggle to undo the roll, the smoke alarm goes off AGAIN! Babiest girl has seen the way the wind is blowing, and has wisely taken herself off to her room, so I grab a kitchen towel and go fan.....again! Finally, I get the rolls completed, sliced, on the baking stones and ready to go into the oven....I open the door, only to discover the reason for the smoke alarms....There, in all it's glory, is my rising sourdough, covered in what WAS one of my favorite kitchen towels....now scorched and smoking - I can't even begin to describe the state of the dough (Which was going to be made into lovely rolls to take to the College Boy when we visit him this weekend! oh, and BTW, feel free to insert yet ANOTHER kitchen word...).Correct me if I am wrong, but I think all of this "excitement" was too high a price to pay for the momentary enjoyment of saving lives, a ten dollar gift card, and a free copy of Southern Living. On the bright side, the Pizza Rolls turned out great, John and the girls enjoyed their supper, I had a wonderful night out with my friends, and this morning.....the house feels like a lovely spa with an indoor pool, owing to the lingering aroma of the exploding bleach jug.....all in all, just a typical day in the Kennedy household. And now...you know - "The REST of the STORY"!

Not bad, for a life in a rough patch.....

You know, I just love Pinterest....it's like a magazine with an infinite number of pictures, ideas, recipes, crafts...you name it (That is a mind boggling kind of thought - is Pinterest REALLY infinite? Can you ever GET to the end of Pinterest?). I saw a quote on there today that really resonated with me - maybe because of my little intentional happiness project last week. It read "Every day may not be good, but there's something good in every day." Now, I have been way too busy in the last few days to be intentional about anything except just getting everything that needed doing, done....but happiness...the good things...were they really present without my seeking them out? Why yes, yes they were....chock-a-block full actually....here are the highlights....a montage, if you will, of  the good moments that found me...Friday, I had a really good hair day - finally! I learned a beautiful new song. I drove home from the show both Friday and Saturday nights with all the windows down AND my hair is so short that it didn't even blow in my eyes. Clancey the Crackhouse puppy escorted me downstairs Saturday morning, and sat on my feet while I drank my coffee in the pavillion. I got a beautiful bouquet of flowers from a castmate....first time anyone has given me flowers for any reason in a very long time. I got lot's of texts this weekend from the college boy AND his friends posted multiple pictures on Face Book featuring....the boy, so I know exactly how he looked at the Football game (He looked so happy). I got to sing the new song on Sunday - not once, but twice....and I got that feeling again - that shivery "God Thing" feeling in our Early Service...we were singing "In the Sweet by and by"... not a dirge-y version, but a Bluegrassy, rocking old time revival version....there was a third grader that couldn't stand still, so he was dancing up and down...there were people I have known my ENTIRE life....My Baby girl (The oldest of the two daughters...not to be confused with the Babiest girl - who is the youngest) was sitting in the back holding a little fellow on her lap...my Babiest girl was singing with her friends that she has known HER entire life, and for a moment - the room glowed with love and togetherness. Yesterday afternoon was the final performance of Smoke on The Mountain (That is NOT the good thing ) after an almost 3 month run. As we sang the final song, and turned in to face each other, most of us had our hands over our hearts - a tribute to the close bond we had formed during our time together. After the show, we gathered for a last meal together, and laughed until our sides hurt - mental snapshots - memories for a lifetime. Then, exhausted from the day, I fell into bed, and just before sleep overtook me, I hooked my ankle around John's, just as I have almost every night for the last 24 years (often the best part of my day). As I write this, my kitchen is full of laughter after another unbelievably busy day....John, and the babiest girl - laughing at a story being told by Baby girl....the Crackhouse Puppy is once again laying on my feet, and I am minutes away from my nightgown...the feel of the night breezes through the open window, and my ankle hooked around John's....not bad for a life in a rough patch......

Steamroller Days...

I am getting so aggravated! You can't go anywhere in my little town right now without encountering road work....I'm talking serious, tear it all up and put it back down road work...the kind with flagmen, and police cars - heavy machinery and miles of orange cones. I know that I should be grateful that we are getting these municipal improvements (especially considering that in some places, grass was growing in the road in such thick patches that it was, if not mower worthy, at least deserving of some weed whacker action), but it is putting a serious hitch in my giddy up! Stop and wait, creep along, stop and wait some more....now, I am a very patient woman, but 17 minutes to go a mile and a half is a little excessive when you're just trying to get home from the grocery store. It's been a real mess, and seems to be taking forever. This morning, I got caught up in one of those lines, and as I was watching the men work, the machines belching steam, and some noxious looking stuff spewing forth from a hose attachment, I was struck by how life is like road construction....I know that mine has been a pretty close parallel in the last few years. Rough patches, things destroyed - torn apart, pressed down and feeling the heat (Trust me when I say that there have been many days in the last 4 years when I have felt like I had been run over by a steamroller...) - praying, hoping, waiting for that day when everything is smooth and fresh, and the going becomes easy and unobstructed once again. During this bout of melancholy introspection (possibly otherwise known as Mid Life Crisis), I have seriously doubted the return of such days. We are coming up on the 4th anniversary of what I lovingly  refer to as "the day our life started going to Hell in a Handbasket....". October 3rd, 2008, when my widowed StepMother came to spend the night, so I could take her to the Doctor....she left a year later, and in dealing with her Physical and Emotional illnesses, I almost lost my mind - I did loose my sense of self, and it was a hard fought battle to reclaim it. Just a couple of months into her living with us, we found out that John would loose his job due to restructuring. He has been unemployed or seriously underemployed ever since, and in this last year he and I have worked up to 3 jobs each, as we try to keep our heads above water. There will be no retirement for us now, and I sometimes try to envision what kind of jobs we will be able to do in our old age (I am S.O.L. as far as my retirement plan B goes, since WalMart has done away with their greeters!). I know that we are not alone in this....that, in fact, there are people in the same boat all over this country....Slowly, this life has become the new normal, and while I am not constantly panicked like I was in the early days, I am tired - tired of trying to keep all the balls in the air....so I would just like to throw this out to the Universe - my message is this: "I am ready for the road work to be finished - I would like to drive on a nice, smooth, easy going road for awhile, and if it's not too much to ask - please remove the steamrollers - I'm weary of their pressure filled heat." Until such a time as my personal roadwork is completed, I will have to content myself with the knowledge that my town's roads will soon be shiny new - giving me hope that if the D.O.T. can get things back on track, then surely my G.O.D. will carry me through my rough patch - setting me down on a shiny new road - where the going is smoother and easier than it is today...

Real Cream - not milk....

I woke up 30 minutes early this morning....on purpose! When I saw the weather last night, I knew exactly what my intentional happiness would be today. Really, it's a tradition - I do it every year - have done so ever since my best friend moved away, many years ago. On the first chilly morning of the Fall, I go outside bright and early, and drink a cup of coffee, in remembrance of our friendship -  of the bond we shared in the day to day trench work of raising small children. I also drink in honor of the place she still holds in my life...I think of her as the best friend of my heart....although time and distance separate us, and we don't see each other very often (or talk to each other very often, for that matter), she was the best friend I have ever had...possibly the best friend I will ever have. So, every first chilly morning, I brew a pot of coffee, laced with cinnamon, heavy on the cream (real cream, not milk), and remember ... Our Children as babies, our shared frustrations, our laughter that oftentimes was so loud and prolonged that we startled the kids...meals shared, tears cried, silences respected...
  This morning, I went out to the pavillion (OK...full disclosure here - the "relaxation pavillion" is what some might call a car port - I have no deck or porch, and I knew after John was "Restructured" out of his job, that I probably wouldn't ever get one, so I made do. I hauled all of the junk away , pulled an old table and chairs out, a few benches, a rocker, some art on the walls, candles on the tables,  hung wind chimes on the open side wall, strung happy colored lights all across the entrance, and there you have it....a pavillion). The air was crisp and changed - yesterday it was heavy, this morning it was like air dried sheets and banana popsicles. Clancey the crack house rescue puppy was leaping with joy (He is my true child - he HATES to be hot - just like me). Jasper, my slightly moody Maine Coon monster cat followed Clancey's lead and played in the vinca. I sat, alone in the dawn, sipped my coffee, and smiled at my friend sitting in the chair...not in a Clint Eastwood bat house crazy, talk to the President in an empty chair kind of way...but in that summoning up happy memories kind of way....the kind where your gratitude for their existence outweighs the sadness you feel for the changes that occurred....Now, if I can just learn to do that with my College Boy's empty chair.....

Sing Your Song....

As a Children's Minister, Sundays are my busiest day of the week. I am up at 6:00. I start the morning with band practice at 8:00, 2 services with Sunday School and Choir practice in between.Then, I hop in the car and drive one town over - marveling that I have made it to the theatre on time, because you know that I have carefully observed the speed limit, and all traffic signals and signs! Once the matinee is over, I head back home, just in time to fix dinner....all this is to say, that I woke up pretty certain I would have no time for intentional happiness today. Oddly enough, the happiness came to me - I did not have to seek it out. Our first service has a band with which I am proud to sing....not really a contemporary band...if I had to give us a label, I would call us an Americana, folksy, independent, old time, modern band. We are 2 guitars, piano, keyboard, drums, bass, lead singer, 2 doowop girls (of which I am one), and until quite recently, a violin. We play an interesting mix of music - meaningful - worshipful -joyful - authentic. As we were singing this morning, I looked out on the congregants - people of all ages, from all walks of life, and felt happiness. Happiness in the way the sun was streaming through the windows, Happiness in the juxtaposition of the green leaves against the blue sky, Happiness in the harmony - the harmony of the music, the harmony of the hearts - joined, if only for a moment, in praise and love. It was a feeling so palpable, so vibrant - so unexpected. I have sung that particular song so many times before, but today was a time like no other. Harmony, like happiness - seems to be an elusive thing, in this day and age...it is a good and worthy thing, to seek it out, but it is a gift when it comes upon you unannounced...I am grateful that I recognized it, in the busyness of the day....a day like any other, but one made luminous by those few moments of harmony. When my youngest daughter was 2, she had a little chant - "Sing your Song, Sing your Song......" Over and over again, going up by thirds with each line. (What can I say, the girl has a good ear for pitch...). I've been thinking about her little ditty tonight....wondering if the particular song this morning was the trigger....or if any song would have brought the happiness...the harmony....I have come to the conclusion that we must have all, in that one instant, been "singing our song"...the one from our hearts...the one dedicated to the giver of harmony......

PocketFull of Sunshine....

I woke up this morning to the realization that I had slept straight through the night (a rare occurrence these days)...a hard, heavy sleep - the kind where you realize that you might not have even rolled over, because of the lines on your face, and the dead no-feeling feeling in your arm. I was sorely tempted to roll over and go back to sleep, as for the first time in months, I had nothing I absolutely had to do - except for one thing.With my intentional happiness quest in mind, I had promised the girls a trip to the Farmers Market...so with the sensory knowledge that John had already put the coffee on, I got up. I knocked on doors, and asked the girls if they still wanted to go (half hoping that they would grumble a sleepy no, and go back to sleep). They both answered in the affirmative, so I gulped a cup of coffee, threw on some clothes (yes, both my shoes matched), slicked back my short, very badly cut hair, and we set off for our adventure. It was a beautiful morning - not too hot, with a really delightful breeze (For those of you that don't know it, I LOVE the wind...hot, cold rainy - doesn't matter to me - the stronger the better). Our Farmers Market here is really tremendous - two big covered open air sales areas, and one permanent building. We were immediately assaulted with bright colors and rich Tuberose and basil smells. We went from stall to stall, looking at flowers, admiring the new pumpkins - buying baby cherry tomatoes in three different colors, marveling over a sugar baby watermelon that had a lacey, crop circle pattern on it's rind....With the wind in my face, my girls by my side - I felt my whole body relax into a sense of well being - of perfect happiness in the moment....and then...we saw it. At first glance, it appeared to be a middle age woman pushing a baby in a funky little stroller.....when the full reality of what we were seeing hit - we were hard put to not cause a scene. In place of the baby, on a little shelf thingy at the top of the would be stroller, was a cat....an orange, ill tempered looking cat - the kind whose scowl would send even the most die hard cat lover running for cover. This poor little feline had every reason to be ill tempered because....wait for it....it was dressed in a tiny blue gingham, Wizard of Oz worthy dress - with white lace details at the bib and the hem....I tell you, the only thing missing was a bonnet...I took a girl in each arm, and we bolted - we had to put some distance between ourselves and the cat lover before we broke forth with our hysterical laughter.  We crossed the street to the other side of the market in high spirits...more flowers, more peaches, mountains of apples, and then - the heavens opened, the angels sang, and my teenage daughters almost expired on the spot...because there, standing before us, selling his Mothers Goat Milk Soap, was THE MOST GORGEOUS YOUNG MAN I HAVE EVER SEEN! (Go ahead....call me Aunt Creepy, but this young 20-something fella defied human nature with his attractiveness) His eyes were the purest turquoise, his skin the color of warm sand, his toothy smile so dazzling that we had to shield our eyes...and then, he opened his mouth. Have you seen the movie The Grown-Ups? You know when the wives meet the guy from Saskatchatoon? Yep...you got it....his speaking voice was in the same register as an eight year old girl. We still had not recovered our wits from the Dorothy Cat, so we hurriedly bought some lovely soap, and once again set off. Our goal? To put as much distance as possible between ourselves and the dreamboat with the unfortunate voice, before we were once again overcome with fits of laughter....My 13 year old had the last word (The 16 year old was still incapeable of speech, owing to the fact she was still pole axed by his glorious visage), as she said...."It could be OK Mama.....I would just tell him to speak with his eyes"!! ......yep, by far one of the best days I've had in a long time.....the wind in my face, the laughter of my precious girls, intentional happiness, and a pocket full of Sunshine.....

Manifestations....

OK.....so I was at the Grocery Store last night, and I had an epiphany. I walked to the buggy corral to grab a cart, and reached for one at the same time as another woman approaching from the other direction. I looked up and smiled at her, indicating that she could take the cart, then froze mid-smile. My eyes caught a glimpse of her shoes....she looked down, and looked back at me with a wry smile and a shrug of the shoulders, took the cart and schlumped off. The issue was this - she had different shoes on each foot. Oh, they were the same style - just different colors. We've all done it - found a style of shoe we liked and bought one  pair in brown, one in black.... But on this day, the lady in question must have just grabbed and run - because there she was, out in public - wearing shoes that did not match. She looked to be about my age, and unless I am much mistaken, she had been beat hard with the dispirited, disheveled stick. Given my current state of mind, I started to wonder if her external was a manifestation of her internal. Did she feel as bedraggled as she looked? Lank, stringy hair, slumped shoulders, shuffling feet, and, of course, the mismatched shoes( they were nice shoes...I would have liked a pair myself)....do not bespeak a woman fully in touch with her place of personal power. Naturally, my internal monologue immediately turned to "Holy Cow....do I look like that?!"  I went directly to the meat department, so I could take a good look in the mirror (I promise that I am not normally that vain...OK....maybe about my hair, but other than that....). I looked myself square in the eye, and took a frank assessment ( Thank goodness the meat men had gone - they would have thought I had lost my mind). Posture - good, Face - still had a little make up on, Hair - well that's another story all together...I am the recent recipient of a very bad haircut (still uncertain how to fix it, but as a lady I've known my whole life said the other night....."It sure doesn't look very pretty, but it's hair - it will grow"....), Shoes -matching Red Crocs (don't be hating on the Crocs), Shirt - my favorite color: Tie Dye, Eyes - Bright Blue/Green, and yep.....sad - and tired - and old....an external manifestation of the internal.... To that end, I have decided to spend a week or so being mindful of and tending to my state of mind. Every day, I will purposefully do something that makes me happy, and I will do something new or adventurous. This morning, I drove around singing to Hermans Hermits - loudly - using a strong cockney accent - with all the windows down, feeling the beautiful wind on my face. (My apologies to anyone who might have been driving on Westchester or Main St. around 10:15)....happiness! As for something new - I am going to try to make a Foccaccia with my Sourdough, which has risen and is ready to go...maybe not adventurous, but definately something new! If it turns out, I will make Anne Marie's wonderful Baked Sandwich for supper....now, what to do about the bad hair.......

Well...why not?

    I needed to do some work that required space to spread out, so I left my office and set off down the hall. My destination? The Kindergarten Sunday School Room - I am a Children's Minister by day, Professional Actress/Singer by night. I dumped my materials on the table, and took a seat in a chair designed for a 5 year old (Most definately NOT for a 51 year old whose girth and knees have kept pace with the years that have marched past). I looked at the far wall to check the clock and was shocked to see that it read 2:23, when I knew it to be a  just a little after 10:00. On closer inspection, I realized that the clock  wasn't dead, it was stuck - the second hand drumming it's proper rhythm, but stuck against the 5 - constantly ticking, but never moving....marking time, so to speak. I was overcome with the sudden, unpleasant realization that I feel like that second hand - stuck in an endless rhythm...constantly beating, but going nowhere.
   I just sent my first born and only son off to College. My daughters are 16 and 13, and remarkably self reliant. For the last 19 years, Family and Home have been THE MOST IMPORTANT THING - the pulse that has fueled my every waking moment....yet I see my babies going - marching ever more swiftly and eagerly into their futures....while I am here, marking time....married for 24 years, and smack in the throes of what was once called Middle Age (Before the advent of political correctness, mind you)....I am a Mid Life Wife, wondering how these years went  by so fast. Years that were so full of laughter and hugs - fresh baked cookies and snuggles under the blanket - Harry Potter marathons and building Lego villages. Here I am, stuck, wondering what comes next...I know there must be something, but at the moment, for the life of me, I can't tell you what. I was thinking out loud the other day, and said that maybe I was going through the dreaded Mid Life Crisis....whereupon the 13 year old quickly and exuberantly asked "Cool - can we get a convertable?!"
   Before the orchestra starts tuning up with the opening bars of "Sunrise, Sunset", I have to figure this thing out. That's why, when my friend Cathy told me last night that I should write I blog, I said - "well, why not"? Because as sad as I may be right now....as weepy and dispirited as I am...I have something that clock doesn't have. I have the ability to "unstick" myself...I can push myself past my metaphorical "5" - all it takes is a deep breath, some gumption and a spark.....now to find it......