Wine, Adam Levine, Arctic Monkeys ... And The Bachelorette??

Eclectic. If there was one word I could use to describe the people I choose to surround myself with in life, it would be eclectic. While most of my friends may have a French heritage, the similarities end there, and for this I am absolutely grateful. Each and every person fills a space within my life that is essentially their own. I cannot get the same fulfillment or have the same experiences with just anyone. My friends are unique and absolutely amazing.

Ok, so mayyyybee they all like wine, Adam Levine and obviously me, but I have a connection with each of them that is remarkably singular to that person. Girls will be girls and we chat, gossip and giggle...ohhhh the things we talk about. Of course it's nothing compared to the things we giggle about.

For one reason or another, this week wound up being one I'd sooner move passed. I've had worse, but still, I was over this one by Tuesday morning. I'm convinced the universe knew I was in need of intervention, because I spent a fair amount of time with two of my favorite people (and just for good measure, it threw in conversations with two more women I couldn't live without). No doubt these are the saving grace moments that made the week, on the whole, bearable.

I love wine. I adore, no lust after Adam Levine. The Arctic Monkeys are sexy as hell and I can't get enough of Do I Wanna Know. Combine these and there is no loss of conversation or smiles. At least not between me and my friends. Though I'm fairly certain Adam Levine single handedly brought my conversation with my soul sister back from the great beyond tonight - I started talking Star Trek and I completely lost her. Come to think of it, this is probably the one topic that each of my closest friends have the very same reaction to...I'm their Star Trek loving friend whom they love and accept despite this odd and nerdy obsession. Thankfully I am adept and can switch my thought process quickly and be immensely happy to discuss Adam's hair, body, tattoos and drop dead gorgeous everything. (sigh)

I've never watched The Bachelorette, but I find it fascinating to listen to anyone, particularly my writer friend, describe the premise of the show. I'm probably still not going to ever watch it, but I suppose this is her 'Star Trek'. A couple glasses of wine and it's all good anyway.

Girltime is ESSENTIAL to keeping hormonal, mental and emotional balance. Chatting about select subjects in detail doesn't hurt either. I didn't want to go out, didn't feel like dressing even remotely suitable to be seen in public, and really wanted to pass the time in relative peace; as luck would have it, my lady friend was in quite the same mood. Tonight, I am feeling quite good that it is finally Friday, and that the night in consisted of wearing comfy clothes and sharing a bottle of wine with creative, like soul. Sometimes the work involved in a relationship, like a friendship, is just about making the effort to spend time together. And all things Adam Levine.

Disappointment Comes And Goes, Focus On What Happens In Between

When I was younger...much younger, I hated feeling as though I was missing something. Whether it was having to go to bed before a show I liked was finished, not being able to go out with friends or missing an epic concert, I just knew I was going to regret not experiencing it. And I usually did, for about an hour.

I've watched as my own children have dealt with, and ultimately lived through disappointment. It's often far worse than experiencing my own, because of the added instinct to spare them negative emotions. Of course they would be ill-equipped to deal with life were I to shelter them from such things.

Missing out on things isn't always as bad as it initially seems. There are reasons our lives take us down paths, often away from the things we want or think we need, though sometimes we won't know why for years. Maybe we would have been hurt in an accident, had a regrettable time or missed out on an opportunity that changed our lives somehow. Maybe it was just life giving us the tools to deal with disappointment and allowing us to grow.

I read an article today that reminded me why it's always best to let go of the whys when things don't go as we hoped. The experiences that make up our lives are as much about the things we 'got' to do and the people who were part of them as much as the unexpected things that came about from plans that fell through and people we hadn't intended to encounter.

Unplanned alterations often bring about the most memorable and amazing journeys. There are still many times when I am unable to attend an event, unavoidably have to cancel plans, or miss out on something or being with someone because things just didn't work out. The difference for me now, is that seeing the bright side or embracing disappointment allows me to be open to any and all possibilities that I am left available to experience. Sometimes 'not getting to' simply means 'optimally open and ready for anything'. At least that's how I see it.

Ashes to Ashes

It's almost disconcerting, the way a certain waft of cigarette smell can make me smile. I loathe the smell and if it's too strong or too stale it's revolting to me. I never smoked habitually, though many people close to me did. In particular, my grandmother.

On those rare occasions when I encounter a faint hint of old cigarette smoke, I can't help but remember her. Her raspy voice, that occasional smile, the all-around French-ness...it's in that split second moment that I realize just how much I miss her presence in my life. As the days pass and the 13th year marker of her departure gets closer, the reminders of her are much more frequent.

She was a smoker for many years, quitting roughly four years (though I'm foggy on this, it may have been less) before she was hospitalized with pneumonia, was diagnosed with and shortly after succumbed to lung cancer. Nearly all of memories of her include a long, thin, white stick between her fingers, lips or hanging off the side of an ashtray accompanied by that smoky, toxic cloud. I mean no disrespect, nor is my intention to paint an unflattering picture of my time with my grandmother. I loved her and loved spending time with her. Growing up in the haze of cigarettes, before anyone really understood the detriment they posed to health, it was just part of life. At least for many of us whose parents, grandparents, relatives and friends puffed pipes and lit cigarettes.

Most of the time I recoil, immediately stop breathing and undoubtedly wear a look of disgust when I encounter the telltale smoke or odor of tobacco. I loathe it. Immensely. I am therefore confused as to how on earth I ever find myself nostalgic for my grandmother when just the right amount of cigarette scent crosses my path. That unknown, yet magical combination of tobacco, burnt paper and stale smoke sends me on an in-depth trip through recollections of years gone by. Sitting at the kitchen table, in every place she lived, listening to her tell me stories of her life, of my mother and aunts and uncle when they were young, of how much she loathed her first husband, and of growing up with her sister, my great-aunt.

I suppose that I don't need to really understand how the very same thing that revolts me, can remind me of someone I loved and miss dearly. Any memory of my grandmother is a welcomed one, and anything that brings it about I am oddly grateful for. I'd sit through her chain smoking just to be able to talk to her again. Yes...I absolutely would.

I Like It Hot

That first warm weather, short-sleeve, flip flop wearing day cannot come soon enough. I'm just minutes from any number of beaches for the first time in my life and I am so anxious to make the absolute most of this proximity. My Kindle, beach chair and I will be spending a lot of quality time together soon.

In truth, this is what keeps me going ALL winter long. The thought of those warm sun rays caressing my skin, the cool breeze keeping me from overheating, and the incredible feeling of sand between my toes. The only way any of that could be better would be the rhythmic sound of the ocean waves. Well, that, and if I woke up tomorrow and the weather was sunny and in the upper 70s.

I have several different versions of this daydream. Most frequently it's the location that changes; bluer water, palms trees, and who could pass up a fabulous adult bevvie? Not this girl! Bring on the hot sand, sunscreen and even those pesky seagulls. Warm weather and ocean air are what my life should have year round. I could move, but that would mean not having friends and family close by. It's a tough call...and it's also why I dream of summer nine months out of the year.

Clearly, I either have too much idle mind time, or I really need a tropical getaway. I'm guessing both. Either way, I won't be experiencing a vacation or summer until the time is right. So, I will continue to enjoy my daydream trips into a warmer, relaxing and desirable place until I feel ocean spray and the wet beach beneath my bare feet.

Persistance...One Necessary B*tch In Life

There are some crazy similarities between being a parent and being a writer. Both require periods of undivided attention, have moments of stress and/or doubt, and evoke amazing love and pride. Neither is for the weak in character/faint of heart/non-committal types. Should you ignore either of these roles for any length of time, much of what you may have gained in experience or progress is often lost. And it is, as I have found, a dizzying volley to try and maintain balance in both roles at the same time.

When I am immersed in one, I am unintentionally neglecting the other. A vicious cycle of constant redirection; sometimes I believe this is what it feels like to slowly go insane. It's no surprise to me when I hear of people finally getting caught leading double lives. How on earth can they manage that pace for any length of time?

The more I try to split myself between these two vocations (and make no mistake parenting is a lifetime career), it becomes clear just how much dedication and drive is required. Any interest or activity outside of these two roles...say earning a living, can definitely cut into the already limited time available to dedicate to being both a mother and a writer. Never mind the mundane, yet oh-so-necessary things like driving, sleeping, eating and such. It's a wonder there are as many published authors out there as there are when you consider all the hurdles, distractions and outright roadblocks the average life contains.

Creativity is an amazing thing, though only if it's honed. There is little benefit of being able to write well, if that talent is rarely utilized. And zero point in parenting if a person lets their child run amuck. At least in my opinion. Not everyone who is a parent strives to be their best, and not every person with creative tendencies or promise wants to be an artist. Of course if a person does, then, for the most part - at least if they are doing what is required to survive in tandem with honing their craft, they need to be willing and able to make adjustments every day. Not to mention give themselves regular pep talks to re-root their resolve.

I'm nowhere near finding the balance I need to be a productive writer, but I'm working on it. Sometimes you reach a point where the only option is to start over. If parenting has taught me anything, it's how to stick with it no matter how difficult it may seem, and to celebrate even the small things; like completing a blog entry every night.

Be Your Own Cheering Sections

I love watching my cat attempt to maneuver himself into the smallest spots between my son and I on the couch. He's determined to be involved in lounging about, no matter how big he is or how much his body overflows across legs, arms or feet. Positive attitude in every cell of that 16lb+ body.

Ok, so maybe it's just that he doesn't really understand failure like people do. I still think there is something to having a 'no fail' approach to life. It's impossible to never think of all the reasons you could fail, all the things that could go wrong...there's always a fair supply of excuses to never try.

If everything was left up to timing, the stars aligning, and the perfect storm, we'd never live much during our time here. There is certainly something to seizing moments as they present themselves without hesitating to weigh every possible outcome. Fear is a crafty thief, why make it any easier by giving in to self-doubt?

Want to squash negative interference within yourself? Every day try something you haven't before. When you recognize thoughts that aren't positive or encouraging, change them. Celebrate even the smallest successes; parallel parking the first try is impressive and moving your workout up in difficulty is too. There are two versions of every situation, and it seems far more beneficial all around to choose the one that encouraging. Far more can be accomplished when you feel empowered.

Double Takes Often End At Appearance

Looking at old photos of my brother-in-law as a child tonight, I was honestly amazed at how much my nephew looks like him. I mean exactly like him. I'd challenge anyone to look for anyway that kid looks like my sister. I hadn't ever realized just how much he was his father's son until seeing those photos. Were it not for the crazy outfits of the fab 70s and rad 80s, I'd never have questioned that it wasn't my nephew.

We may look like our parents; maybe even more one parent that the other, but who we are is rarely the carbon copy our appearance may lead people to believe. The moment we enter into conversations, the similarities and uncanny features shared with our mother or father nearly always fade quickly. Regardless of upbringing and genetics, our thoughts tend to be, more often than not, our own...particularly as we age. Of course this doesn't always ring true, as there are many who are conditioned, rather than raised, leading to an only slightly altered copy of the original.

It's a parent's trap to see themselves or the other parent in their children. It's the basis for relating, and even (to an extent) demonstrating to the world around us what we have imprinted upon it. Of course this is beyond ego-based, but because it is drawn from a place so incredibly close to where parental joy emanates from, it's easy to ignore that we're somewhat unwilling to believe this child could truly ever be independent of us.

My youngest son is, appearance-wise, a mix of his father and I. Some of his ideologies and creative tendencies might have initially blossomed as part of genetics or upbringing, but they have quickly grown into something completely unique to himself. I find that I am frequently surprised and impressed at the person he is, and yes, I often pause in awe as I take it all in. Of course it is this way with both of my sons, though the youngest is far more expressive and open about who he is and the person he is journeying to become.

Like my nephew and the photos of his father, appearances can lead to misconstrued notions about individuals. It's more than likely we all have some traits, some mannerisms, a few quirks handed down through the act of having been raised, but we are not our parents - our children are not us. I find I need to remind myself of this anytime I begin holding someone to the standards or expectations of their parent or anyone they may remind me of. We cannot be true individuals if we don't shed preconceived notions. There may be similarities in life, but we are all unique and therefore should be treated as individuals.

Sharing isn't always the same as being.

Not Everything Needs To Be Named

There are certain subjects that are more difficult to write about than others. For a number of reasons. I find I often censor myself, or avoid the topic altogether rather than risk misinterpretation. Hurt feelings, drawn conclusions and the like are, admittedly, some of the worst foes a writer encounters...and the worst part is that the resistance to write based on any of those excuses is predominantly rooted in the writer's psyche.

There is an emotion, or rather a mood - a state of being that isn't envy, and does not really come close to jealousy either. At the moment I'm at a loss for the exact words or even an adequate definition, but somehow I've still been prone to experiencing it. While entirely infrequent, I'm familiar with the feeling, and even more so with it's fleeting nature. Thankful really, that it doesn't languish and make me ill.

I consider myself fortunate (yes, I know thus far I have been vague and reading further - should you choose to - will not lead to a more specific description of the above emotion) that I have planted myself in a positive place, because in those moments when I begin to feel uncomfortable and less than able to express exactly why, my mind automatically presents the alternate side; the positive energy tied to that previously negative moment.

There may be much about my life that I hadn't planned, but most of the surprises have been incredible ones, leaving me amazed that I could ever focus on something unpleasant in light of the incredibleness surrounding me. Sure, there was a time when I walked under that gray cloud, complaining I couldn't ever see the sun, but happily I've left that time behind. No, my life isn't all unicorns and rainbows, but choosing blue skies and contentedness is certainly nothing to ignore.

I don't need perfection; I really don't even need anything close to that. Just having a few really good reasons to leave the less than spectacular bullshit behind is enough to say that I'm happy. Enviable possessions, relationships that evoke jealous outsiders and the need to flaunt whatever and whoever are none of the traits included in my kind of happy. I don't need to define every negative emotion I encounter or experience; I just need to be able to continue to move on by into the sun, sporting a smile.

Gimme A Squeeze

It is one of those days where I miss my sons being little; they were the best cuddlers. Every so often I need a hug, and the boys aren't much into cuddling with mom anymore. Sad, but true.

Today was long and I had to redirect my thoughts and mood frequently. It wasn't exactly fun. I might not have come home to cuddles, but a little Trailer Park Boys with my boys is a decent second. We finally reached the Rush episode...awesome. 

I think it's easy to forget just how much a hug can change how you feel. Frequently, my youngest son goes around offering free hugs, and though it seems a bit odd, the reality of it is the free hug movement made it okay to give and receive non-sexual, physical contact no matter who you are. Much like I don't understand anyone who opts to skip the shampoo at the salon, I won't ever be able to comprehend choosing to pass up a hug. 

More of my clients than not hug me when they leave the salon, and I look forward to it every time. I think so many of us go through life shutting out emotion in an effort to get over tough times, that we lose sight of how something as simple as human contact through an embrace can actually help us scale over the mountains of hurt, disappointment, insecurity and sadness that we may encounter over time. It wasn't until I became a mother that I understood how vital the effects of willingly sharing your personal space with another soul truly is. 

I come from a French family of happy huggers. Arriving at and departing from any family event typically takes over a half hour each as hellos and goodbyes are impossible to say without the familiar hug and kiss on the cheek. Aunts, uncles, cousins and the lot - every single person gets a hug. It took me years, but I finally figured out I should begin the departure process well enough in advance to make sure I could both say a proper Lazure goodbye and make it home or wherever else I may need to go without being late. Make no mistake, this is one of my most favorite things in being part of my family. 

Women and children, in general, seem to automatically sense when someone is in need of the reassurance and comfort of a hug. At least this has been my experience. Children by nature are openly affectionate and, in my opinion, the key to remaining so throughout life. As a female, knowing that comfort comes from more than just words is nearly second nature fairly early on. Sure it may have to do with the 'nurture' aspect of our gender, but most of us immediately know that a friend or loved one is in need of a hug from little more than the tone of their voice. 

Hugging allows us to connect with others and reminds us that we aren't always alone; that there is someone who understands us, even if just through the need for human contact, at a moment when we may need it most. The act of embracing is the simplest, most effective and renewable emotional resource known to mankind. Make the best use of it everyday.

Hair And Gossip Are Unfortunately Forever Linked

I think there's a pre-teen dork inside all of us that is ready to bust out laughing when people say things that have an intensely suggestive meaning. Particularly when they appear to be clueless about it. I would say I'm well acquainted with that inner dork.

I overheard a conversation today that had me biting my lip to keep from laughing. There are just certain terms or phrases that should not be used when describing one's own hair. And definitely NOT at loud volumes so anyone in the vicinity could hear. Bush is most specifically at the top of that list.

Now, I'm good with descriptions like 'mop', 'frizzy mess', 'light bulb', and 'Christmas tree' (yes, I've actually had someone lament that they felt their hair resembled a Christmas tree because it was in desperate need of a shaping). But it is really just a giggle fest waiting to happen to call the unruly locks of hair on one's head a 'bush'. I admit it, it's juvenile. Trust me on this though, you will challenge your stylist's ability to keep a straight face if you choose to express your unhappiness with your coif by using this particular word. That, and you will have given that stylist and anyone else in hearing range a story worth repeating all day long.

In case it is not quite clear, 'bush' is a word for a roundish plant...or far more associated with pubic hair. Spare us all the prepubescent flashbacks and refrain from ever likening your hair to anything that will cause spontaneous genital jokes. Seriously...

I Never Said I Was Brilliant, But Occasionally I Do Sparkle

Repetition isn't a bad thing. Sure when you seem to be having the same troubles over and over, or you find yourself in a routine that is driving you mad, repetition can seem like a negative thing. If the so-called reruns of past experiences continue to air leaving you unsure why, or even exasperated, it might be time to take a closer look at things.

There's undoubtedly at least one reason life continues to present a person with similar situations time after time, and most often it is because we haven't yet learned a lesson. Another, though often overlooked explanation is that we haven't changed our outgoing signal. We may have gotten the lesson, but ultimately failed to adjust our energy to alert life that we're ready to move on to the next lesson.

The outgoing energy signal is what I've come to realize, more often than not, is my particular issue. Most of the time I figure things out after just one go 'round, I just seem to stall with the same energy hanging out there suggesting to the world around me that I still need to work on things. Which isn't exactly wrong, since paying closer attention to what how I move forward isn't yet second nature.

I figure I've made some progress in just figuring that out. Rome wasn't built in a day, I didn't grow up overnight, and I can't expect to achieve the right energy balance the first time I make it through a defining growth period. I suppose I really don't want to speed through every scenario life has, because honestly, there are a number of enjoyable aspects I would miss experiencing if I did.

A Little Dirty Work

Letting go. This is something I've been getting better at over the past two years. From lost loves to old anger to cutting off the hair I was so unbelievably attached to, each time I 'let go' and make peace with myself, I am reminded of what it means to be happy.

Finding a way to preserve the good feelings you have for a person that you may have parted ways with, regardless of the nature of your relationship, and let go of the negative ones is essential. Going around a problem doesn't really resolve the issue; sure you might move beyond the pit your feelings are mired in, but they will always be there, ready to cause grief whenever something brings them around again. As tough as it is, pushing through the middle of hardships to view it from all sides is the best way to truly leave the bad stuff behind you.

Oh, and this works really well with any issues you have with yourself. We can be far too hard on ourselves for past transgressions and ill-advised choices. If we can't find a way to accept our own shortcomings, how can we ever expect to deal with difficulties involving other people? Life happens around us every minute of every day and it won't always leave us in that preferred space called happy.

Detachment isn't about cutting yourself off from people or things in your life, at least for me. It's more about stepping back and finding a place that allows you to see the whole picture and not just the part that you're struggling to get past. Obviously, there are times when the ability to step back is more of a challenge, and it may require numerous attempts. I've found that as long as I don't give up, I get closer to that peace, and under it all, no matter how much I think otherwise, that's the only way to spend more time being happy. And that is ultimately what I want.

Some Gray Clouds Are Tougher To Rise Above

In my world, there's a concept that is second nature: don't take what isn't yours. I was raised to respect all property and to be able to distinguish between what was mine and what was someone else's. Unfortunately, not everyone else was given this same advantage in life.

At the moment I'm saddened, though just an hour ago I was angry. I'm feeling weighed down, though not because my sons' shoes, backpacks and other belongings were stolen from a locker at a local ski lodge, not even because their friend's things were taken just hours afterward. While I am upset that my boys and their friend, who all come from single, working mother households, don't have an array of replacement items to buffer the thefts, it isn't what has me down. Things can be replaced, lessons can always be learned about keeping the items you value safe, and life does go on - with or without the shoes you walked in with.

Despite knowing all of this, I still find it disheartening to watch as my children experience the cruel actions of those who never learned not to take what doesn't belong to them. That a day of fun was quickly reduced to stress, anger and waiting around a ski lodge to report the theft to police. It is also disturbing that all the preparation and educating I have done through the years regarding respecting authority and seeking them out should they ever find themselves in a situation that requires it, has now been subjected to doubt because the people in charge of this ski lodge treated them as though they had done something wrong instead of trying to help.

My sons, like so many in similar situations, have only a few things of any monetary value - I give them what I can and (for the most part) they take care of those things. When your belongings are few, it hurts even more to lose them. Neither of my sons were in need of a reminder or lesson in respecting property, but they were given one just the same. They now have the unpleasant experience of being stolen from to reinforce what they have known since they were toddlers. The silver lining for them, though they may not realize it for some time, is that they are now even less likely to ever compromise their values.

I will never understand how a person can steal from another person. Clearly these people are missing something in their lives, attempting to fill some void perhaps, I don't know. While I'm sad for my sons' experience this evening, I'm more saddened that there are so many individuals missing things that should give them their humanity. How is it we have produced such large numbers of dishonest, desperate and unconscionable people, when kindness costs nothing and is so easy to teach?

We as a people need to do much better; we need to get back to fostering and exemplifying a culture rooted in humanity.

My 14 yr-old Loves To Torture Me ... Mo' Bo Burnham...UGH!

There is nothing that makes you appreciate feeling good quite like feeling awful. Nothing like bad music to make you celebrate the bands and artists you love, or tasteless food to make your tastebuds dance when you finally let something decadent pass over them. No experience is ever complete without having first hand knowledge of how the exact opposite outcome feels. The key is knowing which to let consume you, and which to turn away from.

My son says "Space" from the other room and I immediately finish "the final frontier"; I mean, the crap version of that would have played out with me asking him what he needs space for. That's no fun. And no self-respecting scifi fan would have said otherwise. I suppose that was stretching things a bit, but honestly, my brain fires off random shit at a moment's notice and I consider myself lucky when I get it anywhere near the ballpark.

You never know just how fit and agile you are, until the day you move and some kind of pain rips through your body preventing you from fluid motion. That sharp dagger jolts you with it's intensity and draws tears from your eyes. All at once you know it isn't good, and you know this because you are aware what feeling good and moving with ease feels like all too well. Waking up feeling under the weather; stuffy, tired, nauseous or headachy - you instantly know that something isn't right. Every movement makes you contemplate the pros and cons of getting out of bed, whereas the question rarely presents itself when you feel healthy and well.

Rather than allow being sick, in pain, sad or frustrated to consume me, I try to focus on how it is I know I don't enjoy that current state of being. It isn't a miracle mood changer, but it does remind me that the good almost always far outweighs the bad. It's also a great way to really appreciate being surrounded by positive energy once it has found its way back into my life.

At the moment, I feel like shit, but I'm pretty certain the negative crap has nearly run its course. I'm just rolling with it, and keeping myself open for as much of the good stuff as I can possibly let it. Oh, and I find a glass or two of wine really fosters tolerance and levels even the most unbalanced of moods :)

Faaaabuloussssness!

It's Friday evening and I still haven't watched this week's episode of Supernatural. Tonight is the night, however. I feel just awful I've kept Jensen Ackles and Jared Padaleki waiting this long, so it's only right I end all three of our suffering. 

Before I watch those amazingly stunning men, it's time to reflect on the past fifteen plus hours. As has been the case for seventeen years, my job provides a plethora of inspiration, positive energy and invaluable interactions with amazing people. Being welcomed into someone's personal space is something I don't take lightly. Bringing my stress or negative energy into the air surrounding my clients would certainly detract from their overall experience; one that should be relaxing and dipped in total happy. 

When a connection is made with another person, as with stylist and client, the result is more than shared personal space. Life and experiences are shared, advice is sought or given, ultra personal thoughts and experiences are expressed, and amusing or heartfelt stories are told. These are the reasons that I cannot imagine ever giving up what I do. My clients have become part of an extended family; daily doses of awesome that cannot be found anywhere else. 

Today, like most every other day, I'm happy this is my life.

Laughter Really Is The Best...

Its easy to forget the little things over time; those sweet moments filed away somewhere in a bank of memories. There's both wonder and appreciation when those moments are recalled because someone or something triggered them. I'm always surprised at how some past events seem to get buried under life, but I always love when they resurface.

Some of the best memories in my life are the ones that surround being a mom. I could sit back and dig out a number of moments my mind has preserved, but there will always be times that seem to need something specific to be remembered. As much as I wish it were possible to relive every minute of my sons' lives, I'm content to be surprised when a long forgotten gem resurfaces.

One of my co-workers who recently became a mother, was showing an adorable video she took of her daughter in a baby swing. She'd started to belly laugh, and just hearing the near uncontrollable giggles that erupted from her each time the swing brought her closer to her mother, reminded me of my own sons baby laughs.

It's the stuff viral baby laughing videos are made of. There is no way you can resist laughing yourself when you hear or see a baby giggling so hard they can't seem to stop. I had forgotten those first, precious bouts of intense laughter each of my sons burst into as infants. Of all their 'first discoveries', when they began genuinely laughing is right up there with their first words and first kisses.

I can't hear even a hint of those first belly laughs from them now, but I will always have the memories. Like my own mother, every time I recall or catch a flash of their baby years, I vow to wear the dorky, sappy mommy look and stare at them smiling until they realize and beg me to stop. Then I will burst into my own tear-inducing laughter giving them moments to recall when they have children of their own.

I Missed Supernatural And I'm Too Tired To Catch Up Tonight

Either my mind has rebelled and shut down, or I've finally gone crazy. At the moment, I'm undecided which I would prefer it to be. Frankly, I think crazy would be easier...I wouldn't know any different. At least that's my perception of crazy. Maybe I'm entirely off base.

Of course my idea of crazy includes goofing off and laughing incessantly at the most random and basic things. (sigh) Well, basic to me anyway.

I have no deep insight or thoughtful admissions today...my only offering is that there are times when being ignorant or less aware is nice...peaceful, in fact. At least momentarily; beyond that it's an uphill trek. Though just resting up a bit can produce the surge of energy needed to make the final stretch of the climb. Whatever that climb may be.

Tuesday, Not Just A Day In The Middle Of The Week

Catching up on reading with a good book. Having a long overdue, bring-you-up-to-speed conversation with a good friend. These are two of my favorite ways to spend any free time I might be fortunate enough to have any given day of the week.

As of late, I recognize that making the most of my time requires a certain amount of openness to a balance between both planning and spontaneity. The past two weeks I actually feel as though I'm making progress in that regard. Today, I actually managed to be both mom and hairdresser, and found time to read and even meet up with a friend I hadn't seen in over a year. Stellar day, for sure.

I realized during tonight's conversation, as mutual friends' names came up, just how much time has gone by in general. Flown by. Years have just streaked by, leaving faint hints and signs that they were ever really part of any timeline, let alone either of ours; just whispers of some random memories, and an occasional solid story that will undoubtedly continue to be relived simply because when it happened, the entire moment absolutely rocked. Those are the stories I love hearing, whether I experienced them firsthand or happen to just be hearing it for the first time.

Maybe this is a bit too deep for a Tuesday night, maybe it's the second gluten free beer I had, I don't know, but reading and conversing seem to be just types of relating and connecting. I suppose, for that matter, so is writing. In a day and age where hearing someone speak, listening to music, watching people on television or online, and even reading the words written by someone you don't know and will not likely ever meet, how is it that we lose touch with the people we do know and can see from time to time? Sure lives change and people grow apart for one reason or another, schedules change and interests fall by the wayside, but how many opportunities do we continue to let slip by to reconnect with a person or pastime before we run out of chances?

I stopped making resolutions a long time ago. While I maintain that approach to any new year, I can't help but wonder at what point in time does it become suitable to make a pledge to myself and my life to do something instead of just 'wish' I could. I imagine that seeing any change or challenge as belonging to a year sort of makes it about a resolution, which in it of itself isn't a bad thing. But perhaps, for me, just deciding on any given day that I will make a real and concerted effort to finally go on that lunch date, actually set a date to go out for drinks, blow off vacuuming or laundry and sit down to finish reading that book, and stop procrastinating about setting a writing schedule for myself, despite whether it's 2014 or 2020 is what makes it a life goal. Positive change born of true effort and the permission to throw off whatever things I've given the power to limit my life.

Though this was like any other day, at any given point, looking back over the course of the last 17 hours, I see it had the perfect combination of routine and spontaneity to produce unexpectedly epic results. Pivotal and inspirational, indeed.

It Might Be Foggy At The Moment, But One Thing Is Clear

I've been wanting to write about something in particular, but have sat here weighing the pros and cons of doing so. I could just write it and keep it for myself; just to get the thoughts out of my head. But a conversation I had with one of my sisters keeps popping up, and the result is I am compelled to share.

Without revealing more than I wish to, or boring anyone with unnecessary details, here it is:

I have been granted a glimpse into the daily life of my nephew and niece. The briefest and most benign glimpse, and even this abbreviated experience pales in comparison to the battle they have endured for far too long. I say 'I have been granted' because I have been able to find value in an otherwise failed trial with a medication.

At this point, I will apologize for any odd wording, spelling choices, or completely irrelevant thought directions (though I hope to correct those things prior to publishing this entry).

Medication is something I've always tried to avoid. Other than the occasional ibuprofen, allergy or cold elixir, narcotics and long-term meds are something I've been fortunate to avoid...until recently. I reached a point where I could no longer manage my pain and remain functional for work (and let's be honest...LIFE) with over-the-counter remedies. The medication I was prescribed did manage the pain more effectively, but only just by making it bearable.

This 'glimpse' into my nephew and niece's battle is due to side effects. Aside from fatigue and headaches (both of which are tolerable), difficulty in concentrating and sometimes not being able to find the simplest of words has also spawned irritability. At first that might not seem like much in respect to controlling pain, but when you depend on concentration and fluidity in communication as I do with my day job and in my writing, it is. I pause for far longer than I should, either mid-sentence to a client (thankfully most of them know me well enough to laugh it off), or with my fingers poised on 'ASDF, JKL;' and the space bar on my keyboard, at first struggling to pull words that finish my thoughts from my head, and often fighting the fog of 'no thoughts' and trying to remember what I was thinking about to begin with.

I'm cognizant enough to realize this isn't normal for me, though the irritable outbursts and verbal snapping are tough to see coming and cut off before they are unleashed. I've found myself attempting to explain what's happening to cause this new behavior to both of my sons repeatedly. Unfortunately, they have born the brunt of my frustrations these past few weeks. I am just thankful they 'get it' and aren't holding it against me.

Verbal communication and creativity through writing are aspects in my life that I cannot imagine losing; the good news is I don't have to worry about that happening. Having the option of discontinuing this medication is a relief, though I wish my nephew and niece had that option. As an adult, I haven't been dealing with these side effects for an incredibly short period of time and the end is easy and within sight. I hadn't thought it was possible to admire my nephew and niece anymore than I already did for being the troopers they have been over the past five years, but I do.

They are amazing, resilient and so much more tolerant than I might have ever imagined. And much more so than I am myself. The worst thing isn't dealing with side effects; it's having to live with them for an undetermined amount of time with no promise of an end.

Great Days Indeed

When my sons were little, the one guarantee that they would fall asleep was always fresh air. Be it the race to get as much done as possible during nap times, or the laundry folding, lunch making, and getting ready for the next day, I seem to have forgotten that fresh air causes that relaxing sleepy effect on grown ups too. After a couple of hours in the cool, ocean air today, I'm sort of wishing I could take a nap.


I started my morning knowing I wanted some time by the water, and even considered taking just my Kindle with me. Then I realized that it's not nearly as enjoyable without my boys. They never put up a fight, and at 18 and 14, I consider that a testament to our family dynamic. I remember all too well my own teenage years and how much of a chore family outings were for me. If either of my sons has ever felt this way, they are light years ahead of where I was because they don't ever let on.

All too often I think I've lost sight of my sons' willingness to be with me and spend time together, and the moment I remember how fortunate I am, I hope more than anything I will be able to retain as many memories of these times as humanly possible. Photos and blog entries certainly help, but the many topics of conversation during the course of any day like today are so much harder to preserve. Football, water, marine life, parkour, school...the list should be longer, but I've already forgotten some of the comments and stories each of them shared today.

Far from spend my days fretting about all the things I won't be able to recall, I plan to continue finding ways to live in the moment. Taking the happiness as it comes and letting it fuel the minutes and hours that surround it. One day I might not remember how many times I've walked the beach or climbed the rocks with my sons; I won't likely recall what conversation was had over dinner some long lost Tuesday night, but I will always be able to remember exactly how spending time with them made me feel. Nearly everything in life is better because they are part of it.

The Grass May Well Be Greener, But I'm Partial To My Current View

With every passing winter, I give more consideration to life outside this state. More specifically, south of here. I am not a fan of cold weather and once my youngest son has headed off to college in three years, my options for leaving become greater. That said, sometimes it's just nice to know there are options, and not necessarily have to take advantage of them.

As I've grown up here, I've made countless connections and forged even more irreplaceable relationships. Sometimes it's easy to take those relationships for granted. And occasionally we get little reminders of exactly how important a particular relationship was and why.

Venting about driving conditions, though not often, is just one of the many ways I utilize social media outlets. At times there are benefits to cuing the reading, commenting, and like-clicking world into your actions. Tonight I was pleasantly surprised by the outpouring of offers to let me stay the night rather than drive in subpar conditions. Had I actually checked my phone before leaving for home, I might have considered one of those many offers, though I imagine my step-dad might have welcomed the company watching the Patriots' game. Of the friends who reached out to me was one of my 'other' mothers from high school. It was absolutely heartwarming and brought an instant smile to my face. A handful of memories rushed to mind, and I spent the drive feeling fortunate to be able to recall so many great moments.

There are benefits to still living close to the area you grew up in, and those weigh in when considering the likelihood of moving much further away. I wouldn't ever write off relocating to a warmer climate, but I don't think it is a move I will make in the next few years. I suppose while it's nice just knowing the option is there, it's nicer realizing there are so many reasons to stay right where I am.

Puppy Eyes and Gushy Proclamations

I have a confession. I love romantic stories. Not so much the books...although I am a sucker for happy endings. The romantic stories I'm talking about are the ones I hear when people I know find companionship with a like soul.

Today I was fortunate to hear from two of my male clients the excited and infectious tone of being smitten as they told me about their significant others. One had recently become involved with a girl that he had an instant rapport with. It was incredible to watch the facial expressions and subtle body language as my client recounted the past few weeks since the two had started dating. He was ... well, frankly he was adorable. The next was a friend and client who epitomizes the type of partner/spouse I hope both of my sons turn out to be. He has always, from the first day I met him, spoken of his wife in the most loving and positive way. I will never tire of hearing that her quirks and eccentricities make him laugh every day. There is no doubt in my mind that he means every word he says and more, and the evidence is that as he expresses these things, his eyes reflect absolute sincerity.

Every day I have the opportunity to listen and witness the happiness of those around me. I cannot imagine - no matter how stressed, sad or upset I may be with my own life, not feeling the excitement, too. Aside from feeling buoyed in positive energy, being open to feeling happy for others allows you to remain hopeful and receptive to the good things that are all around you.

I don't need to have the same things as the people I encounter to be genuinely happy for them. Simply seeing each person enjoying what they have been blessed with without comparing any of it to what I have in my life, is freeing. I am, after all, a hopeless romantic.

Surprises Aren't Always What You Expect

Sometimes a brief encounter with an icon is really all that's necessary...particularly if you wish to preserve whatever fabulous memory you might have regarding that icon. Especially if it was a person that is tied to specific memories, albeit only in your life. Sometimes less truly is more.

I rather enjoy sushi, and certainly the company of a good friend. Spontaneity and parenthood aren't typically two things that ever work in a parent's favor...but as your children get older, sometimes you get lucky. That sort of sounds awkward...tonight I chose to go out with a friend for dinner and her bf happened to be in a position to reserve tickets to a show in town for us. I hadn't planned on going out after dinner, but I don't see nearly enough of this friend and decided 'why not'. The boys are certainly old enough to take care of themselves for a few hours and I knew I'd be home at a reasonable hour on a school/work night.

Finding parking, a short but cold walk and bracelet placement out of the way and I discovered we'd be seeing Joan Osbourne. In the 90s I was all about playing Joan on repeat. Loved her. Still do. A total girl crush of mine.

The waiting seemed to go on forever and then the band finally took the stage. I snapped a few photos, poked fun at some slightly drunk and oh so into Joan girls (yeah, I'm not perfect - I can be catty) and finished my Angry Orchard. A couple of songs in, as much as I adored seeing Joan live...six feet from me (ok, maybe more like 10 without my damn iPhone in front of me), I was really ready to leave. I've come to realize that for me, there is a sort of mood that I find I need to be in to really get into bluesy music. I love it, but if I'm not already anticipating it, I'm over it in a song or two.

Despite not staying for the whole show, I won't soon forget seeing a long lost favorite singer. Oh and for once, I wasn't anywhere near the oldest person in the venue. Both of those things should be celebrated, especially at my age :)

I'm Fine With The Division Between Sexes

Have you ever had that moment when you realize that you have more friends of the opposite sex than of the same sex? It's happened at several points in my own life and I'm oddly surprised each time I come to that same realization. My closest friends are female, but the vast majority of my friends in general are male.

I'm not sure exactly how that happens, but I've always felt comfortable around the guys...though no matter how much I might think I'm one of them, it's clear I am not. I have breasts. Breasts automatically keep you out of the boys' club. Wicked pissah!

Now, I love my female friends and wouldn't trade the relationships I have with them for anything in the world, not in a million years. We understand each other without unneeded explanation and can decipher the most confusing string of words whether it's about the thing that happened when the thingy broke, or we're laughing so hard we're no longer speaking any known language, or we are crying so hard we're sobbing full sentences. But guys...there's just something completely intriguing about being able to hang with the boys.

I had hoped through the years to get a clearer picture of what makes guys tick, how they think, why they do the things they do. No such luck. I'm understandably disappointed, since it would have been useful in raising two sons. Not to mention in interpreting and successfully navigating dating minefields. It's just not the way it is however.

Of course there are somethings that guy friends provide that are different from female friends. They give perspective from a guy's point of view, they can act as a great buffer in awkward social situations, and (this is somewhat of a touchy area) they can be sensitive. Sure female friends are plenty sensitive and supportive, but they aren't male, and when dating disasters strike it's reassuring to have male input. I suppose for me it's valuable, because it's as close to hearing the whys and probable reasons for why shit happens. It's also not bad to have an ego boost when you most need it and guys are great for doing just that.

Much as I'd still like to get behind the curtain of that elusive-to-all-females club, I am just grateful that I have guy friends. Maybe I won't ever break guy code, but I will happily continue making the exchange of male-female insight, talk boobs, sex and sports and still get walked to my car without having to kiss anyone. Yeah, it's not a bad deal.

What Some See As Ugly Might Just Be Beauty Taking Its Time To Emerge

I spend a fair amount of time reigning in my thoughts and emotions, attempting to 'ascend' to a more respectable and at peace version of myself. On the whole, I believe this is the way we all should approach life. I'm far from perfect; there are still many things I could stand to improve and change about how I conduct myself.

Reading books, spending time with enlightened individuals, thinking about better ways to deal with or react to external issues...while they are all good, I've come to realize that, on occasion, you need to allow yourself the time and space to be upset.

How can a person expect anyone else to validate their feelings if they continually 'correct' them before acknowledging that they are real? That anger or sadness is legitimate and needs to be felt in order to move forward. Sometimes, breathing and changing mindset isn't the first step. Sometimes you just aren't okay.

I know that for me, when I am upset, either by my own shortcomings or because someone else's actions have directly affected me, I can't always just take five minutes to push past it. There are times when I need to vent and at the very least hear myself verbalize exactly what I am upset about and how it makes me feel out loud before I can truly find the best path to moving beyond it.

Sometimes, just sometimes I think it would feel great to scream. Like really scream. Loud, guttural, intense and cleansing screams...but of course that would draw the wrong type of attention that might just make my situation and emotional state worse. So, instead, I lean on select people who not only listen but push me to let the negativity out to make room for other, more positive things.

Patience and permission to feel the shitty things before making changes that result in growth can make you appreciate positive energy. It reminds me that I'm human and that I don't need to be perfect. It reminds me that perfection isn't what I'm after. I'm just trying to live each day with a more peaceful and happy soul. So if that means that I occasionally have to allow the crap to work its way through me, then that's just what I have to do.

When I Look Back, The Road I've Traveled Stretches Farther Than I Can See

The alarm went off at 6:30 this morning, and I was greeted by a meowing feline, as well as a text message canceling school "due to dangerous driving conditions". Sigh. After two weeks of school vacation, I was looking forward to getting back into routine. It just wasn't meant to be.

Shortly after reading the cancellation text, I remembered my father. He would have been 59 today. I still find myself at odds with how long he has been gone from this earth. I've all but forgotten the sound of his voice. Nearly twenty years have passed and so many of the little things seemed to have escaped with them, but the important and most meaningful things remain. If I sit and think long enough about it, I can almost remember what the sound of his laugh was like. It was infectious. I wish I could find the right words to describe it; I'm glad that I can still picture him smiling and joking around.

There are times I still find myself overcome with sadness for his absence in my life; my family's life. More often than not though, a sense of peace flows through me at the memory of him. And right now, it's a mix of the two. This man was more than just a father; he was a patient teacher, a positive example and an amazing soul. He was also funny, aggravating and stubborn. He brought with him his daughter, who became a sister - parents and a sister - no, an entire family that became my own. In every one of them, there are pieces of him.

My sons, my nephews and niece, never got to meet him. They won't ever experience having dinner with him and listening to stories of his work day, like coming out of a bathroom stall to see another guy bent over in the sink blowing his nose in his hands, snot strung between his nose and his fingers. Oh yes, my dad was that guy...always prepared with a story that would shock you and he often sprung those kind of gems on us after we had just shoved a forkful of food in our mouths. I think I can safely say my sisters and I aren't topic sensitive when we eat these days. That particular 'tradition' lives on, at least in my house. Dinner conversation is pretty much an anything-goes event.

In my life there won't ever be a time I don't wonder if I should have had him hand the phone to my mother the night I called after I was raped. If I had ever questioned how he felt about his role as my father, hearing my mother and grandmother describe his reactions would have quelled it instantly. I only wish he had lived to see both of those vile men convicted and sentenced.

There are so many things about him that I miss, but I'm happy for each and every memory his life created. I am also grateful for his willingness to take on the role of being a father not only to his own daughter, but also to my sister and I. His acceptance and love were an important part of my eventually being able to be a more open and engaging person, despite the traumas in my childhood and having been raped. Far from being torn apart, my family became stronger after he lost his fight with cancer. Staying together, staying close, kept so much of him with us that could have been lost otherwise.

While I will never stop missing his presence or wondering what life would be like were he still here, I will always treasure the memories; through each of them, I know, he will continue to be a part of this life. A frequent reminder to enjoy what I have, love the people who are around me, and make sure there are more good memories than bad in every area of my life.

(Of all the music my dad listened to, YES will always instantly remind me of him)

This song was out when my dad, Gary, became part of my family. He loved it and again, it will always remind me of him :)

Literally Rambling On About Everything and Nothing Tonight

I try to spend a few minutes every day, reflecting on whatever may have transpired. Not in the sense that I am looking for ways things could have been better or different, but more in the 'did I handle/do/say things the best way I could have' way. If I didn't, I consider how else I might react and file it away for future use in similar situations.

With each passing year I internalize more of the knee-jerk reactions I've had in the past and spend time processing the thoughts and emotions that come up in any given situation. This is far more challenging than it was pre-texting. It is far too easy, especially for a writer, to relay a thought or chain of thoughts through text/message/email. The more emotionally charged the issue, the more likely someone such as myself will craft a flowing stream of words designed to dizzy, and more importantly sting. I have found, at least for me, the more involved I am, be it out of concern, anger, hurt or pure giddiness, I am apt to use my love of words to convey my thoughts more emphatically than I might truly want to. For that very reason, I push to refrain from that method of communication altogether if any of the above extremes is present.

Whether I feel good, bad or inconsolable (which rarely happens), my inclination is always to express those thoughts in words that tend to magnify the extreme and not necessarily convey the true reality. This leads to confusion and sometimes rebuttals that set off a back and forth of word daggers, or even a total absence of response..."hello? are you there?"

If you have the ability to string words together that can capture someone's attention, chances are you are also prone to overstating and embellishing for the pure exhilaration of word-craft. I am certain anyone who has received texts/messages from me would agree that I use more words than necessary to get my point across. Should I mistype a word, I send a correction text...I'm now way off topic...words, they pull me in all directions every time. Maybe a touch of ADD.

Reflection. The more I practice this simple act of quiet awareness, the easier it is to realize all the great things that continue to grace my life. I believe that is a large part of why I chose to write another 365 days of 'whatever comes to mind' and somehow tie it to self-awareness and growth. Though I'm certain my reasons for writing will change from day to day, the core of why and what I hope to achieve within myself most often stay the same.

Hearing the clothes in the dryer, Riley's phone vibrating with SnapChats galore and watching Brayden rile the cat up, I appreciate having enjoyed coffee in total silence this morning. Amazingly, I also remember wishing for these same, distracting sounds around me just last week when the boys were gone overnight. I'd say I'm fortunate to have struck some kind of balance between the extremes and can still enjoy them both.

And based on the numerous interruptions happening here, I believe I should take the cues to stop rambling on and focus on the life around me vying for my full attention. Goodnight all.

I Won't Wish Away Where I Am Based On What I See When I Look Back Now

"In My Life" The Beatles

What an amazing thing, this hindsight. To be able to think back and consider things in a more leisurely state of mind; taking in all of the now known information about any given topic, it's certainly easier to make a decision. Or at least it seems that way when there are more factors before you than just the initial introduction of material that, from this new vantage point, seems incredibly deficient for any opinion forming, let alone choice making. Still, I wouldn't say "20/20" is a fair assessment of the view hindsight provides. Noticeably clearer, maybe. Brighter. Perhaps even slightly more proportional to an actual reality. But 20/20? No, I think perception differs based on the emotional state of when we look back and whatever experiences have impacted our lives between those mental 'rewinds'.

One thing is for sure, having more information after the fact would almost always have had an affect on the outcome of any choice, decision or action, but it isn't typical in general as we go about our lives. Had a different choice been made, the result would have presented a reflection that would likely show a new shoot-off of possible options...it's probably best to not dwell on what we could have, might have or should have done differently had we known what we do now; who needs the crazy-making that kind of thinking leads to?

There might be occasions when hindsight is beneficial, like in making similar decisions or even when the recollection belongs to another person and it bears some consideration in your own situation. I'd be more apt to see this as insight than hindsight, however. Then again, I suppose hindsight really is relative to a specific situation and when it's attributed to like situations, it becomes insight.

I chose to zig even though now it is clear I may have arrived where I wanted to be had I zagged instead. There was a time when I would let my mind go over and over scenarios and choices, essentially working myself up over things that I could never change. Once a decision is made, only other, more informed decisions can alter or correct direction. And even still, the benefit of seeing the past through an ever-changing mind's eye is short lived and relatively limited.

When I was a child, I loved to read. I remember a trend in children's books were the stories that gave several 'choices' at the end of chapters. The choice you made sent you to a different page, allowing for several different story lines and endings. While these books were fun and taught a valuable lesson about the impact decisions make on future decisions, the reality is we can't mess about with second guessing and backtracking to attempt course corrections. Coping skills and patience go a long way in helping us reshape and continuously form the life we are (hopefully) currently living.

It's impossible to avoid looking back and wondering or even wishing we had done something differently. The sooner we let go of what we can't change, while remembering the most important things we may have overlooked for future use, the more resolute we become to just live life and do so with eyes a bit more open and focused. And as always, this is just my two cents.

No Day Is Ever Truly Without Hope And Wonder When You Are A Mother

If you aren't a parent, I am not entirely certain you would understand ... before I became one, I am quite doubtful I would have myself. Of course, now I relish in the amazement and hold tight to all that I am fortunate to have simply for having become 'mom'.

On days when I break a nail, trip over my feet, spill coffee on myself, whack my elbow on the corner of something hard, hit every single red light between my starting place and my destination, have a disagreement with someone I care about, or simply wish I had never left the comfort of my bed, I am gratefully still a mother. One look into either of my sons' faces and all of the maddening moments that seemed so awful and consuming just step back out of sight, absent of their former power over my state of being. Though they may be nearly grown, there are those rare occasions that the love I am overcome with just being near them, sends me back to the day each of them was born.

The relationship and bond I share with my sons are unique to each of them, but so absolutely wound together as one amazing amplifier for my heart and soul. In my life I could never imagine being without either of them, and I am certain nearly all of me would die should that horror ever come to pass. Though I may have ambitions and desires that seem independent of my role as mom, there is not one thing that I could ever achieve that would bring me any amount of happiness were my sons not somehow part of it.

Through the sleepless nights, the challenges of childrearing and the acceptance of my changing role I have found the remedy for disappointing days and stressful times. Nothing whatsoever as much as the smiles of both my sons could ever brighten those dark moments and every dull, gray day. It may sound simple, but it's an effect that would be impossible without the interwoven complexities a child creates the moment they touch their mother's world.

Bo Burnham Might Just Haunt My Slumber With His Ridiculous Sing-songy Rhymes

"The real world is a lie, and your nightmares are real." - Dr. Moon, Silence In The Library Doctor Who


I don't watch Doctor Who ... well, at least I didn't until Riley, my ginger-haired son decided to Netflix the series. It seems that no matter how I try to resist the call of this long running British sci-fi show, my attention is always drawn to the screen. I wouldn't say I hate the series; more like I'm indifferent. Of course if it happens to be on the telly, I become fixated. I haven't a clue what most of the episodes are even about, but nonetheless they still mesmerizes me.

Were it true that nightmares were real and life a lie, I imagine I'd wish for someone like The Doctor to fix that shit. I love sleep, and most often the dreams I remember are pleasant, if not amusing. The nightmares, however, are not the makings of any reality I would want to live in. I much prefer to visit frightening places by watching a thriller or horror flick that will end in roughly two hours.

Ever wake from a particularly disturbing dream that seemed real for a few deeps breaths and took sitting up and shaking your head to realize it wasn't? It's really unfortunate we don't have that option in life, but then again we'd probably avoid experiences that foster growth altogether. Suck as it may, pain and discomfort lay the groundwork for strength and clarity.

Wouldn't it make more sense to minimize some of the challenges and hardships we go through by tuning into the brighter side of situations more often? Positive thinking, when you ponder it, is really just the nightlight or dreamcatcher of our waking, conscious life...after all.

Even Ice Can Bring Warmth

Sometimes the grass is greener, but seeing it doesn't mean you have to venture to the other side to see it. I don't like winter - never really have. Why then do I choose to continue residing in a state that's winter season is so lengthy and occasionally brutal? Simple, I value family and friends more than the temporary absence of a warm climate.

Driving home this afternoon with my youngest son, I found myself distracted by a roadside attraction of natural occurrence. Trees, covered in snow and ice, were glistening in the sun, giving them the appearance of glass. Along the road in the areas that had no visible tracks - looking quite untouched by any living thing, I saw amazing beauty. Appreciation for anything winter related isn't something I have ever arrived at easily, so the fact that I anticipated the view of each seemingly 'pure' area along the way was something I wouldn't allow myself to overlook. I drove slower, took the longer route home, and let go of my disgruntled opinion of the season to take in the incredible scenery. I know I became a more open and accepting person as a result of this, even if just ever so slightly.

It Has To Start Somewhere

"It has to start somewhere, it has to start sometime. What better place than here, what better time than now" - Rage Against The Machine

Finding the better things in situations has been an ongoing personal challenge of mine, and I'd like to say I've come a long way. In some ways I believe I have, yet I know there are many moments that are pivotal to my evolution as a human being that I miss on a daily basis. I wrote daily gratitudes for some of the people in my life over 365 days, and this year have been encouraged...no, challenged to do something similar again. I wanted to make this undertaking a bit more relatable to anyone who may not know everyone in my life. The next 365 days will be more of a focus on the world around me and how simple moments, more complex events, and everything in between reminds me that sometimes striving to be better really is the best thing happening in any given day.

So, for those of you who wish to follow through another year of posts of the occasional wordy nature, I would be honored by your time and attention.