Cream in my coffee.

Adam sent me this video and I liked it so much, I wanted to pass it along.

An interesting take on our society's obsession with health, youth and longevity.

And a reminder to make good of what you've got and dig into life right now--because no matter how many years we live to see, how long we put off the wrinkles, or how skinny our jeans, we will all find ourselves one day in the winter of life. And that's just the way it is.

p.s. Have I mentioned that I love Wendell Berry?

p.s.s. I didn't listen to the guy after Wendell. Just couldn't find another version. (No offense, Gary.)



Sometimes it seems like when you hone in on an idea or meditate on a life truth that it begins hitting you every which way you turn. Or maybe it's been there all along and you are finally paying attention.

For me, lately, I've been thinking a lot about aging.

I'm not really sure what sparked such thoughts initially but now I seem inescapably drawn to stories, to speakers, to books, to movies, to people and the later years of life.

Of course, aging itself is inescapable--a thought that none of us really want to entertain, except, perhaps, when silently swooning a bit as a wrinkly old man ambles down the sidewalk, step by slow step, hand intertwined with his stooped-over wife.

But the reality of aging really isn't quite as picturesque and is something we all kind of shy away from.

Anyway, I've been thinking about it and for some reason thinking especially about nursing homes and all the people tucked away there.

And I wonder what their stories are and who they loved and how they lived and what their most treasured memory would be and where they place their hope. And who is fighting for them? And do they feel invisible? And are they afraid?

And I just keep stirring the pot, letting these thoughts bubble and brew, waiting for them to spill over.


Bless this mess.

If you walked into my home right this very minute, I would apologize all over myself as I quickly ushered you through the messy kitchen into the dusty dining room, past the un-vacuumed rug and firmly shut the door behind us once we made it (mercifully) onto the front porch, and would position my chair just so to hide our wilting plants from view.

If you peeked inside my head today, I would smother you with prefaces that scream insecurity, uncertainty, fear. A timid blip of excitement might pop through and if you just kept swimming, swimming, swimming, past the sea of swirly twirly gum drops*, you'd see a smattering of rusty neurons firing that had fallen quiet for a time and feel a warm glow as wheels kept spinning.

If you lifted the veil to my heart and waited patiently for the should've, could've, guilt waves to subside, you would hear the steady beating of Hope pulse throughout and see my fingers holding on ever so tightly to the belief that greater things are yet to come.

*Two points if you caught both of those. Couldn't help myself.


Don't you fall asleep too soon.

We cruise into the summer night sky, full of life and lightness and the good sort of tired.

The drive is easy and I stare out the window, notice the twinkling lights and listen as the music croons, ...And don't you fall asleep too soon.

And suddenly I'm sixteen--lanky-legged, frizzy-haired, insecure to boot. Not yet afraid to laugh a little too loud or be a little silly or dream an irrational dream.

Life was wide open and as the stars flashed by my window on the family road trip out West, it seemed oh-so-much bigger.

Yet for the first time, I could feel time's finicky finiteness and I wasn't sure whether to count down or hold on tight.

So I watched and wondered where would I go? And would I find love? And would I be okay?

And if I could whisper back to that wide-eyed girl, who wasn't sure yet who she was or what she wanted or why life seemed a bit harder to pin down lately, I think I would just play that same song, and crank the volume way, way up, and watch her furrowed brow crease while her eyes light up, then smile as she turns to playfully elbow her brother and ask her mom for more fruit snacks.


It's getting all Monica up in here.

Has anyone else out there taken a personality test recently? Those things really mess with my mind. It just makes me all psycho-analytical (heavy on the "psycho", light on the "analytical").

Like, I don't know! Do I strongly agree that life is good? A 4-good or a 5-good? Am I outgoing or not? Which shapes my life more--the past or future?! Um...?! Do I make my decisions with my heart or my head--HEART OR HEAD?! What are you REALLY ASKING ME, COMPUTER?! And why are these questions on a sneaky TIMER?!

And after all that, my highest-ranking category was Empathy. Kind of wanted to react like this.

*note: I know that it is a word, thankyouverymuch. But it just seems like a made up category. Like when people don't know you and write in your yearbook and say, "You are nice."

Anyway, I'm taking two days off so see ya next week! Got some serious relaxing to do.

OH! And in case you think I'm being especially harsh, don't worry. #4 on my list was Positivity. So...there's that.


Story of my life.

We're driving around town and I'm relaying my office life conundrum of the day, which included the do I?/don't I? of extending the private lunch invitation to anyone who happens to be listening, even though technically it is my lunch break and should be able to go to lunch with one co-worker...right?! Plus, I was pretty sure that said lunch date would not appreciate the extended invite, but still, there's this guilt that inevitably follows when you don't, because what if everyone thinks you're being a jerk or something...you know what I mean?!

((long pause))

Husband's response: "I feel like you experience the most subtle awkwardness."



Because now, it's been awhile, so you think, "Oh, sure, it was hard at first, but now time has passed and it's the circle of life, so yeah, I mean it's tough, but life keeps moving and besides, she's in a better place."

And you do keep going. And it's not so bad, most of the time, because the punch-in-the-gut feeling has faded and your initial shock is somehow integrated into your sense of daily living and you'll think about her time to time and smile as you walk by her photo each morning.

But it's tricky, your emotions, because you think you have them all figured out and under control and you can even start to believe that if you've rationalized it all to death then your emotions will surely be on board and in sync and fine, just fine.

But then, you let your guard down. And not even in a conscious, calculated way, more in a walking-into-Target-to-buy-a-fan-because-it's-hot-as-blazes-at-home kind of way. And it's Tuesday. So really there should be nothing more to worry about on a Tuesday except folding all your weekend laundry (finally) and whether or not you will allow yourself to indulge in ice cream (again).

And you're on your way out of the supermarket when just like that you smell popcorn, and you spot a sweet pepper-haired old woman and in the moment you know you're experiencing loss all over again, and immediately you squeeze your husband's hand and smile a little remembering smile.

And you think because you recognize it, call it out, then you will proceed to thoughts a-b-c and threat neutralized.

And then you're all surprised when you're in bed hours later, after a chat with a friend and a few episodes of The Office and living your Tuesday life, that when you close your eyes, you smell popcorn again and tears pop out and they just keep coming.

And you just can't stop thinking about how much you'd love to call her up right now and catch her up to speed and how she liked to clean out drawers when she couldn't sleep in the middle of the night and her chuckle when she was saying something a little bit ornery and how you don't think you'll ever take her number out of your phone.

And you grasp at the fragments as they float away into the summery shadows.


Lately loving:

  • impromptu lunch dates...with my husband!
  • fresh strawberries in my (made-with-8-ingredients!) ice cream
  • QT drinks (DDP, two bursts of vanilla, easy on the ice)
  • lists that don't seem as urgent
  • shedding my cardigan as I walk out the door

Summer is the best.

p.s. Totally unrelated but I just have to add that anytime someone says, "It is hotttttt!"...I think of this. You are welcome.



My sense of:

Not being x, y or z
Being alive