Can we keep our Never Again promise?

 A MUST WATCH...

This Holocaust survivor turned patient rights activist has a history lesson we can all learn from...

Vera Sharav's advocacy achievements include: suspension of Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) pesticide experiment (CHEERS) on children; complaint led to two federal investigations on the use of children in foster care as guinea pigs in experimental AIDS drug and vaccine trials; suspension of smallpox vaccine on children; suspension of “violence prediction” experiment that exposed 6–11 year old NYC boys of color to fenfluramine ; opened a public debate about the ethics of relapse-inducing experiments in schizophrenia patients. Organized families and victims of unethical research to join her in testifying before the National Bioethics Advisory Committee (NBAC) — re: unethical experimentation on mentally disabled psychiatric patients; those testimonies led to a prize-winning series in the Boston Globe, “Doing Harm: Research on the Mentally Ill” — ultimately resulting in the shutdown of 29 clinical trials at the National Institute of Mental Health (1999).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h_EDV_7s7Dc&feature=youtu.be

Best Life Ever

I suppose it seems pathological to spend time knowing what you'd like on your tombstone, especially when you're not even sure you believe in tombstones, but since Ross and Ben and Shen and Tatum, I've known that that's what I'd want it to say.

There has been, there will be more, suffering.  It doesn't impact how I feel.  This life has far exceeded my expectations.  I've already experienced love beyond my imagination, have enjoyed so many miraculous surprises... wish after wish has only proven that my imagination is insufficient.  There are hard things and painful things and I don't get everything I want, but even that has contributed to the richness of it.  Comfort, it turns out, is numbing. And discomfort so very revealing. I've had so many opportunities to grow... and sometimes I've even seized those opportunities.

And my mistakes - they have been profound and even catastrophic at times - but they have made some of my good decisions feel nothing short of miraculous.

Ross is my favorite. My best decision ever. I've made a life out of growing with him.  Sometimes I lay awake at night just smiling and crying at my incredible luck.

I don't know what's ahead. Right now I don't want to dwell on it.  I just want to be right here in this moment, grateful that all the best things I can think of are right here in my life.

Model it for me. Please.

Today is the Women's March on Washington... and everywhere, really. There are marches taking place all over the world and I have been invited to participate a number of times. But I'm not participating.  And while that's not a statement in itself, it kind of feels like one.  It makes people ask who I voted for.  It makes people question whether I'm really supportive of women.  And that makes me question whether this really is a movement that is supportive of all women.  There are a lot of different kinds of women.  Do we all get to be respected? Or is it only the ones who hate Trump, support Hillary and wear knit pink hats to prove it?  I'm really not sure. I have a lot of mixed feelings. So I'm sitting this one out and I'm trying to see what it really means.

Facebook is a little hard to look at today. I want women to feel empowered, but this doesn't feel like empowered.  It feels like resistance.  It feels like propping up a symbol of hate and hating on it.  It feels like creating a giant Trump piñata spouting "pussy grabbing" quotes and giving women sticks. It feels a little heavy on blame.  Men aren't the only ones holding women back.  And neither are the women who are asking women to answer tough questions and take responsibility for some of their own unhappiness and dissatisfaction. It's an important day to observe what women do when the power and the podium are in their hands.  Will they model the support, fairness, equality and respect that they are asking for or will they dismiss and ridicule the people they claim are haters?

I want women to feel strong, empowered, loved and accepted, and I know there is some good in this. Or there can be. But not in an echo chamber. And not without navigating disagreements and differences of opinion with our values in tact.  I believe that real empowerment is cultivated, and therefore, can only happen one small brave moment at a time.  I think today might feel invigorating and inspiring for many women and it may give them a voice and that is amazing. But then we need to come out of the safe, supportive bubble of a Women's march and bring our voices into the "real world" where everyone will not see things in quite the same way and no one is "right".  Authentic voices must survive outside of the choir.

I hope they will.  And I hope they'll be voices in support not condemnation.

In a nutshell, Trader Joe's is killing me .

Ok, not Trader Joe's exactly.  But sort of.  "In a nutshell" is as much to blame.  They're both part of the beautifully convenient monster we've created.

I happen to love Trader Joe's with it's pre-packaged knock-offs, reasonable prices and the promise of non-GMO food (otherwise known as "food").  But since the roof collapsed on our local TJs in January I've had to confront an inconvenient truth:  Trader Joe's is part of my "runner-up" lifestyle.  It's not the clean, healthy and balanced lifestyle I aspire to, but it's some of the best processed food around. Some of it is even organic. And that's something. At least that's what I tell myself when I'm in a hurry.  And I'm in a hurry way too often. 

The path of least resistance is so shiny and pretty.  It's lined with ease and convenience in every size, flavor and color.  Superfood pills, delivery services, remotes, apps, snapchats and portable/disposable everything are available at the press of a button. Information and news is delivered in easily digestible soundbites so I can "know" everything in no time at all. All this so I can move at the speed of life, which only continues to accelerate.  

Theoretically, I should be getting things done and saving loads of time for other more meaningful things, but instead I feel the laws of physics taking hold.  An object in motion does indeed tend to stay in motion.  And somehow, rather than advancing, I find my skills and resourcefulness deteriorating while I run around like a hamster on a state-of-the-art wheel.

"Use it or lose it" becomes profoundly scary when I realize that I have forfeited significant muscle memory and brain power to the ever-growing array of modern convenience.  Now that my life is stored on my phone, I no longer know the phone numbers of my closest friends and struggle to remember appointments without it.  I noticed in a recent yoga class that I was doing a stretch that I used to do every time I backed out of a parking spot.  It felt great - like I really needed it - but I rarely do that stretch outside of yoga since they put rearview cameras in cars. Somewhere along the way, quality of life became about ease and we started opting out.  But taking shortcuts through life doesn't sound like a very good idea as I watch kids let autocorrect handle their spelling mistakes.  Nor does spending it immobilized in front of a screen.

 

In recent years, my family has embarked on some lifestyle research, making trips to Costa Rica to discover the secrets of "Pura Vida" or "Pure Life".  These trips are not about lounging on beach chaises while people bring us fancy cocktails with tiny umbrellas, yet they heal and fulfill us in ways that luxury vacations never have.  They are about getting enough sleep and waking with the sun to the sound of howler monkeys.  This lifestyle requires us to walk to the farmer's market to buy fresh produce and make a separate stop at to buy fresh catch of the day.  We chop vegetables and eat food that was recently alive and we taste the difference. We do our own laundry and compost our food scraps.  We spend lots of time outside being active and then retreat to the shade, when the rains come or when the heat peaks, to rest.  We go surfing.  We do yoga.  We sweat... a lot. We rely on the cooperation of our environment and our neighbors to get what we need and nature dictates they rhythm of our day.  Sometimes we confront challenges and we have to get creative.  And when we get to the other side of those challenges, we feel a great sense of achievement and connection.

Pure Vida is not convenient and it's conspicuously void of shortcuts.  But it is healthy, delicious and meaningful and it's a lifestyle I would love to bring to my everyday.  If there is a formula to Pura Vida, it goes something like this:

Slow down.

Go barefoot.

Read novels, not excerpts.

Make your own food and eat it with someone you love.

Equal amounts of play and rest.

Notice breathing, sleeping, and smiling.  Savor them.

Stop and smell the flowers.

Recalibrate to the rhythm of nature.

Taking the scenic route through life may take longer, and that's great. It's a journey I'd like to enjoy.

Who Do You Think You Are?

No, really.  It’s just a simple question. 

Or is it?

I tend to check myself when this question is asked, or even implied - imposing a critical review of everything I’ve said or done in recent history to warrant that kind of attention.  I often feel like the question has become a means of telling us we’ve stepped out of line, a way of intimidating us back into whatever collective thinking rules the day, because it almost always has the strong undertones of How Dare You.

But I would like to take the judgment out of those words and infuse them with something different.  I would like to ask the question as an invitation to consider all the possibilities of you. 

Who do you think you are?

And then.

Who would you like to be?

And then I would like to dare you… to be the person you would most like to be.

In exchange, I will try to offer you my most authentic self.  “Try” being the operative word, because authenticity is naked and scary.  But it will be a little easier for both of us if we try it together. It will require us to be courageous, because we won’t see everything the same way.  We will probably disagree about some things and that will be uncomfortable.  But perhaps we will also find that some of our dark and shameful spaces are shared and common spaces, and that will let in some light.

If we can tolerate the discomfort, I bet we will learn things from each other that will blow our minds and our worlds wide open.  We won’t always find agreement, but we can work on respect.  I would like to get really good at respect.

We will have to remind ourselves not to take it personally, because we will probably trigger each other.  I may say something and you might think, why would she say such a thing or what’s that supposed to mean?  In that case, I hope you will ask why would you say that? or what do you mean?  Maybe the answer will surprise you.  Maybe it won’t and you will have to tell me how it feels to be on the other side of me when I say those things.  Hopefully I will be strong enough to hear those things.

But let’s jump in and try.  I’m a little scared, too, but let’s see what happens when we use our lives as the canvases on which we answer the question: Who Do You Think You Are?  Let’s revel in our truths and make this life our masterpiece.

I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.

To my Shenshine on her 9th birthday

You know the story.  We wished for you. 

I wrote you letters before I even knew Daddy.  I wished for you to be STRONG.  I wished you courage.  I wished you beauty - the deep down to your soul kind.  I wished you compassion and humor.  And, of course, health. All the best things I knew how to wish for, I wished for you.  But that was only the beginning

And then you arrived - all of my wishes and then some.  It never occurred to me to wish for eyes that sparkled the way that yours do, in a color I'd never imagined.  I hadn't thought to wish for laughter that could change the air in the room, or that dazzling sunshine smile. You will unlock hearts with that smile.  And your curiosity: you will change the world with those questions you're always asking.  The best questions.

I know it's hard sometimes, to feel so deeply, to notice everything the way that you do.  And to care so much.  I know it makes life harder sometimes. But it will make life richer, too.  Every day I see you growing, turning challenges into lesson into gifts.  I love the way you shine them, and share them with everyone around you. 

Thank you for taking all my wishes and multiplying them!  You are better than our wildest dreams of you.

Happy Birthday, Shenshine!  You truly rock!

Remember "Use it or lose it"?

I'm struck by the catch phrases lately. The top 10 lists. The sound bites, abbreviations, loopholes and Cliff's notes that dominate our culture. If life is supposed to be about the journey and not the destination, why are we dedication so much of our time looking for short cuts?

The Oxford English Dictionary recently added 65 words. Not surprisingly, many of the words were actually abbreviations and acronyms for words we're now too lazy to say. I'm concerned about raising my children in a place where "TL;DR" (too long; didn't read) is one of the most widely used new "words". No wonder this generation is experiencing such acute FOMO ("fear of missing out") - another word that was made official in the dictionary this year - people are literally skipping over anything that takes too long. And since we've grown accustomed to getting things quickly, that "too long" window continues to shrink.

I'm trying to think of where we went wrong, because I'm fairly certain we started off with good intentions. We generally do. I suspect that "progress" was the seed that blossomed into this world of instant gratification, which has quietly drained us of patience, creativity and inspiration. We've spent the last several decades working to make life easier. At first it was inspiration and innovation - we had this wonderful idea that we could improve our quality of life and we worked to create these brilliant modern conveniences. Televisions, microwaves and fast food transformed our lives. And then we went from TV to TV remotes to TiVo. Home-cooked meals became TV dinners became Ensure. Conversations became e-mails became texts.

Giving the people what they want has changed the people. We may actually be less of ourselves, thanks to modern technology and a world of conveniences. Because, really, what is the end game when we accelerate everything and burn calories faster? That sounds to me like using up our bodies faster; and we kind of need those to live. What happens when we make a habit of seeking out the "no brainers"? Doesn't it stand to reason that, after making decision after decision without actually engaging our minds, hearts, and consciences; we may eventually have trouble accessing them? Thinking, exploring, feeling, discovering - they are activities I want to embrace. And, while ease and speed can be great, they can also deprive us of opportunities to practice patience and develop problem-solving skills among other things. Without those, we’re increasingly dependent on a quick fix and outside resources and we lose out on the satisfaction of overcoming life’s challenges.

So I see this vicious cycle developing. We can't wait for results and it takes too long to learn. We need to work longer hours to earn more money so we can pay other people to do things we don't have time to do. Other people do our research for us, weigh our options and spoonfeed us “in a nutshell” information that influence our decisions. We’re accept the easily digestible images on billboards and the 30 second ads that tell us we can (and should) lose weight without exercising and changing our diets. Why spend the time exploring the origins of what ails you when you can pop a pill?

In those uncomfortable moments, when I don’t like the way I look in my full-length mirror, or when I’ve pushed the caffeine intake/sleep deprivation ratio to migraine-inducing levels, the magic pills are tempting. And I often think that I’m “saving myself a trip”, when I spend an extra hour in front of a computer screen placing online orders instead of going into town to buy the things I need. But I’m rethinking my priorities. I am reminding myself that, just because there are products that will make my body forge ahead when I'm overworked, exhausted or in pain, it doesn’t mean they benefit me. Even if (especially if) they make me skinny. I am realizing that the easy way out, is often the way out of really living my life.

There’s merit in getting through difficult moments – actually feeling the feelings and then working through them - or at least exploring how I got to them. I think it’s worthwhile to get beyond the self-disgust, resignation, sadness or frustration and look at things from a different perspective. There are lessons and challenges within them. There are ways to grow buried just under the surface of these moments.

In 2014, I'm trying to find my way back. I will catch myself operating on autopilot. and I will stop and look around. I will hear what the experts have to say, but I will look at the information for myself and trust my own instincts. I will stop and take walks even if they don’t lead to checking something off my list. I will learn for the love of learning and I will not let a sound bite determine what I should wear, buy, eat or look like. This year, I plan to embrace the challenges. I want to learn the lesson for myself, even if I make mistakes and it takes longer and I have to stop and think and do things differently than everyone around me. And it will be intentional. I’m going to count my blessings and use my gifts. Every one of them.

Allowing

It takes some time to settle into a space, even just a simple state of mind. I haven't afforded myself much of that time. The endless to do list allows for nothing. But it's the allowing, I think, that's the key. The best things seem to happen when I stop doing. Time to stop. And be. And allow. I think I owe that to myself. Let's see what happens...

In Praise of My Inner Freakazoid

weird and wonderful girl, you have set me free.

you pushed me over the lines into that scary expanse and endured those funny looks. you dressed me in all the "wrong" clothes and got me to sing loudly before I could think to contain my voice. you gracelessly blurted your truth, our truth, for all to see and hear. you pushed me right out there into that awkward spotlight for all to see. and at first i cowered and cringed. but i found that i could still breathe. and i could still be loved.

some people walked away. others, my favorites, stayed. and new people... wonderful people, and even some like-minded freakaziods appeared out of the woodwork. i would never have known them but for you and all the strange frequencies you sent out into the universe.

thank you for continuing to think when i stopped. thank you for refusing to follow the rules that didn't make sense. thank you for pushing back when i tried to push you down. thank you for speaking up.

i thought you were brave than me, but it turns out i'm actually you.

Three cheers for murder?

I feel a little queasy over this whole thing. I heard my son's 9 year old friend proclaim that he was "psyched that they killed Obama". People on TV are announcing to the world that they have never been prouder to be American. After seeing that, I couldn't be more embarrassed for us. Our proudest moment is a murder? Seriously?!

Politicians are absolutely glowing as they hold up newspaper headlines that read "Rot in Hell" next to photos of Osama Bin Laden. Is this who we're proud to be? I'm really struggling with this. It looks like a parody to me.

I'm not joining anyone for a $2 beer to celebrate an assassination.

To Do

write to camera companies re: "picture this" idea.

research recycling in Zimbabwe - talk to shantha

Write something!

get to car wash (with kids)

clean out drawers and get some of this crap out the house.
declutter kids' window sills

get to michael's for mermaid stuff for tate's party
Party favors, swedish fish, goldfish crackers

plan ben's party

call a dermatologist about that dark freckle

refill essential oils for cellulite and varicose veins

research camps or make plans for August

replace broken recorder

summer shoes?

baby gifts for acupuncture babies

revisit t-shirt designs and logos

dietary write-ups for patient charts

walk/yoga

salt bath

I'll BE the hero

I'm not waiting anymore.

A cause walked into my living the day Shantha Bloemen came to visit with her four year old son. She'd just received the call that her husband, Munyaradzi Gwisai, and 44 others had been arrested for watching videos of uprising in Egypt. For meeting to see what they could do to change their circumstances.

Until that day, I had not given Zimbabwe much thought. I didn't think about Robert Mugabe. I didn't know enough to care.

But now I care.

Robert Mugabe, my friend is suffering. Her son is missing his father. And his father has been imprisoned, tortured and charged with treason. Children are without there parents. Families are without their breadwinners. People are without a voice and they live in fear. But I have a voice, and now a reason to use it. And I will use it to help set my friend's husband free.

And though I have felt the twinge, I will not act out of hatred. Or anger. I will come from love and conviction. I will share a truth... over and over until people notice. It's already happening. With empathy. Creating solidarity. I am making friends and learning their stories. And sharing them. We are finding common ground and supporting each other. We are sharing good ideas and giving a voice to people who are too scared to use their own. We are growing. And we are everywhere.

So far, 39 of the 45 have been released, and I am very happy for them. But I will continue until the other 6 are free. And I won't go back to sleep. Because I know there are others now. And I care about ALL of them now.

I'm awake now. I'm paying attention. And I'm on a mission.

I need a hero!

The bat phone is ringing - red light flashing its urgency. "DO SOMETHING!!!" it screams.

I'm stumbling around, looking for my cape and my magic tiara, tripping on dirty laundry until I remember... Wait, I'm not a superhero. Damn.

People I care about are suffering. I've been watching them suffer for ages it seems - hoping for them, praying for them, quietly rooting for them. Waiting for someone smarter or more important to help them, or at least say something... maybe turn on a light so they can stop struggling in the dark. But no one has. And now it feels like the car's about to go off the cliff. The raft is fast approaching a waterfall.

I'm dying to jump in. I so want to help. But I'm not exactly invited. It's not really my place. And, perhaps most importantly, I'm in over my head. At best, I'll fumble through a dramatic entrance before coming to a halt and announcing from the sidelines, "um, there's a cliff over there...so, um, you might want to do something about that..." And then there's the distinct possibility that I could make things worse.

So before I take this irreversible plunge, I'm trying to sort my intentions...

Do I think I have the answers?
No. But I think I see a real problem that no one is dealing with. And it won't go away on its own.

Do I want to be the hero?
Hmmm.. Can never say no entirely, but I don't think that's it.

Do I just want to be a part of something?
Always. But this is a scary something and I'm not particularly brave.

Is there a better person for this job?
DEFINITELY. But I have no idea who or where I might find him/her.

Can I help?
It's possible.

Can I hurt?
Also possible. More likely, just make people very uncomfortable and maybe piss them off.

Am I prepared for the consequences?
Nope. I'm not really even sure what they might be.

Do I know what I'm doing?
Maybe not.

So, basically, I just think the truth kind of urgently needs to be out in the open....
And truth is not objective, is it? And I may not even have the whole truth.

Damn. I think I need to put those Clark Kent glasses back on until I hatch something closer to a plan. With any luck, a real hero will appear in the meantime.

Independence Day

Not really a day. Sometimes just a moment. Or a pitstop at a cafe. Or a stroll through the city.

Something about breathing feels especially good and clean and I decide to believe everything that I hope is true about me. Just like that - I take this magnificently liberating leap of faith. And it's magic. I'm magical. I smile and it feels beautiful. My smile has power - the power to make other people smile. I am connected to everyone.

Ideas come. And I give them a voice. And they are received like good ideas. I am inspired. And part of me is surprised and delighted that I can inspire as well. (The other part it just delighted and not so surprised). In these moments, it's easy to speak. My sentences don't trail off. My thoughts are drenched in love and goodwill and I'm shameless about sharing them. If only everyone could feel this good, if only for a moment.

I haven't figured out how to hold onto that feeling... that "allowing". But I think it starts with the breathing.

I'm going to practice.

I'd like to unleash that magic everyday.

Is all about the journey... blah, blah, blah...

Ok, so I've finished my first draft of my first screenplay. Hurray!

... And sent it out into a universe.
Or at least a couple of people who aren't related to me...
And received some constructive criticism...


Huh...


So... I'm really going to have to go back and rewrite this thing.
No critical acclaim.
No big spontaneous checks.
Definitely no bidding wars. (Does that even happen? I don't actually know)

Turns out I'm going to have to develop skills and learn this craft like everyone else.
(It's always the "like everyone else" part that's particularly hard to swallow)
It shouldn't be this surprising that I don't innately have a knack for writing an award-winning screenplay the first time around. Ok, truthfully, I was going for an independent cult-type film... I thought that was being a little more realistic.
But, no. Lo and behold, I'm stumbling up the learning curve.

Ok, so I knew this already. But it's always sad when a fantasy dies. Or, in my case, when it must be shelfed until round 2.

Spewing forth

I want to write. I do. But it's all stuck and jumbled. My thoughts are like those delicate necklaces found tangled at the bottom of jewelry boxes - all knotty and twisted and very, very fragile. Unraveling them requires patience and focus, and I have that in short supply.

I want it to flow through me gracefully, eloquently. Instead, everything comes forth in fits and spasms - violent eruptions and hiccups and belches. There are some kinks I have yet to work out.

I wouldn't mind so much if they weren't interrupted by so many long sighs and false starts.

I had fantasized that writing would one day reveal my inner genius. Throngs of fans. A weekly column. Publishers and producers banging down my door. World leaders seeking my advice. But the genius is evasive. To date, I have only confronted the slacker, the neurotic, the coward and the critic. The critic is by far the biggest bitch.

I think she's the one behind all this...

That moment

... in a film when the protagonist walks off the airplane or steps out into a beautiful new scary life. When things are going to change forever. Usually in some remote and unfamiliar part of the world.

I love that moment. I'm craving one of those.

Can I order one of those without the ugly divorce or the horrible tragedy? I'd like to take my husband and kids with me.

Cheers.

I want my Mommy!

I've been hearing this a lot lately. Usually from an overtired and very stubborn 2 year old... in the loud, whine of an overtired and very stubborn 2 year old. And after 100 rounds or so I find myself wanting to tune it out.

I should be more empathetic. I know just how she feels. I'm tired. I'm overwhelmed. And whatever it is, I just want to be rescued from it. Scooped up and hugged and fed and talked to sweetly until I'm lulled to sleep. I want my Mommy, too. And the frustration of not having access to her... well, I guess I can understand that relentless whining after all.

My mom has been gone for 13 years next month. Cancer. That vulture of a disease. It feels like a lifetime ago. And it feels like last week. And, when I really let myself think about how much I'd like to see her, there isn't enough air. The idea of "never" suffocates me, so I can't spend much time contemplating the passage of time. It's a concept that only creeps in and occurs to me, often as a jarring rediscovery.

The winter is abundant with such crippling realizations. The crisp air or the dirty, crusty remains of snow... a song on the radio... something, anything, can set me off and it all comes flooding back to me. I am overwhelmed by the sick flutter in my stomach as I force the words I hate out of my mouth: "Dad, you have to sign the DNR." I can feel my throat swelling shut, resisting the urge to cry as I brace myself and prepare to set my mother free. Choosing every word carefully in case it's the last one she hears. The blue vinyl chairs and the hospital smells. And wondering if the little vials of morphine that we learned to administer at home might give me some relief from the suffering I was seeing.

These memories can stab me at any time without warning. 13 years later I have to remind myself that it's real. And the realization is always unwelcome. My reaction to it never changes. "I want my Mommy." But I continue to visit even the most agonizing of these memories. Because they're of my Mom. Even in the most painful moments, she was there and she loved me.

I always think that after an experience like mine, a person would be forever changed. Deeper. Kinder. Patient, at least. But it doesn't work that way. You still have to work to become the person you'd like to be. The lessons are there, but it's on us to apply them. It seems you can feel how unbearable it is to lose someone you love so much and still take your other loved ones for granted. You can witness how one moment can change the course of the universe and then waste entire days on laziness or anger. And how many times have I strayed onto the path of least resistance? Human nature is absurd to me that way.

So, I'm reviewing the lessons here. They were so painfully acquired - I'd be a fool to waste them.

A mother's love is critical. 40 years in I still need to tap into it to get through a difficult day. And it's my turn. My privilege. Each day with these three little inspirations is a gift. There are smiles to be made. Games to be played. Memories to create. Love to share and absorb and infuse and radiate. So that relentless cry of "I want my mommy"... that is my chance. My opportunity to be there. Here.

Goodbye 30s

I can't bring myself to go to bed. When I wake up tomorrow, I'll be 40. I keep thinking that for as long as I can stay awake I'm still in my 30s. And so here I sit, trying to decide if I'm ready to take the plunge.

Silly, I know. I've always thought so. Just a number... doesn't mean a thing. And I stand by that.

But still.

My 30s has been such a rich, rich era. Getting married, being pregnant, having 3 gorgeous children, moving out of my beloved city, starting a business, buying a home, making it home. Growing up... a little. Aging for the first significant time. It's been a big decade. I don't know that I've paid it proper tribute just yet.

Ok, and I don't want to look 40.

But I suppose I'm more likely to look 40 by tomorrow if I don't take that plunge and go to sleep already.

Besides, I'm so damn curious. What could possibly be next!!

Skinny Mirrors

Those deceitful little buggers. Retailers know exactly what they're way around flattering angles and complementary lighting. Today, my elongated reflection persuaded me to purchase a considerable chunk of my fall wardrobe in Target when I was only there to stock up on Pull-ups and flushable wipes. Well, perhaps Target has a few tricks of it's own (I've managed to spend a small fortune there $5, $10, $20 at a time), but there is just something hypnotic about the almost sleek, nearly leggy reflection standing across from me in the dressing room. I find myself thinking "I'll take it", despite the certainty that my mirror at home has a harsher truth waiting for me.

But, you know, who cares? I guess, from one perspective, I may have been duped into buying something that may not be as flattering as I think. But on the flip side, no one is more critical of that reflection than me, so I may as well find the best reflection available and go with that. The problem is the inconsistency. What I really need is one of those damn mirrors at home. Hell, maybe one above my bed.

Walking around all day in that delusion doesn't sound half bad to me.