"What we're really talking about is a wonderful day set aside on the fourth Thursday of November when no one diets. I mean, why else would they call it Thanksgiving?"

~Erma Bombeck

Make New Friends...

“Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one”
~ C. S. Lewis

Part of the fun in starting a new job is getting to meet new people and hopefully, make new friends. Part of the angst about starting a new job is that you have to start over meeting new people and trying to make friends! It feels a little like the first day being the new kid in a new school. You don't know the lay of the land yet--who is always pleasant, who is great one-on-one but not in a group (and visa versa), who will share their pencils freely, who doesn't like you to touch their stuff, who might just beat you up and take your milk money...you get the picture. All that takes time and interaction.

It can also be hard to let people know you. We tend to hold back a little-- fearful to show the real us until we feel safe that we will be accepted and liked for who we are. And if we've been burned in past friendships (at work or otherwise), the tendency to mask our authentic selves is even stronger. As I finish a second month at my new job, I feel like I'm finally letting down the mask a little bit and being myself. It feels good. Being myself is the thing I"m best at after all. So in the spirit of self-revelation, here's 5 things you might not know about me (I know, I know, it's a bit of a cliched blog thing--but I'm ok with being a bit cliched sometimes). Maybe one of them will make you say "What? You too?":

1. I hate coconut. It's one of the very few foods I dislike. Somewhere in my childhood there is the distinct memory of getting sick after eating coconut cake that has never left me. The fact that I really have only one food nemesis is telling in itself.

2. I did not have a full-time job until I was almost 40 years old. Now, I do consider being a stay-at-home mom working part-time the equivalent of a 40 hour a week job, and I did that for many years. But if we're talking really being gone 9-5 and having a boss and steady income full-time, I was a very late starter. As a side note, I also didn't start drinking coffee until I started working full time. I also didn't drink alcohol until about that time. Not sure about a direct correlation, but you be the judge.

3. I am not afraid of much of anything. No fear of heights, small spaces, snakes, crawly things, storms, etc. I don't like looking in mirrors at night--a leftover from some bad horror movie I saw when I was an adolescent--but I can do it.

4. I am really good at remembering the words to songs. My kids used to play a game where they would throw out a word and try to see if I could remember a song containing that word (try me, I dare you). I'm not sure if this comes from years of music lessons and singing in choirs or from too much easy listening radio and "Name That Tune" episodes as a child.

5. I have had some type of illness or physical malady most of my life. When I was young, I had severe allergies that led to sinus surgeries as a young adult. When I was newly married I had low back issues that weren't resolved until a recent surgery corrected the problem. When I trained and ran a half-marathon, I ended up with a tibial stress fracture. I've had carpal tunnel syndrome and surgeries to repair it. I've had endometriosis (sorry guys, I a 'female problem') that caused so much pain I had to have a hysterectomy in my early 30's. Through all this I've remained active--skiing, running, mountain biking, and hiking. I have a friend who used to say I was the "sickest healthy person" she'd ever met. As a mostly confident, self-assured personality, it's been annoying and frustrating and has kept me dependent on God. Maybe that's the point of it all. I've given up asking God why and instead just say to Him, 'stick with me here, ok?"

Bonus: Well, I just couldn't leave it at the last one--it was just toooo serious and pathetic!
I have seen almost every sci-fi movie made since the 80's. (The only exception would be those that lean heavily toward horror/slasher films, but I've even seen a few of those--see #3.)

So there you have it. A little mini-reveal of the real me--a little brave, a little broken, little nerdy. Now, please don't take my milk money. I just want to be your friend.

Trying, Failing, but still Traveling...

"Attack me, I do this myself, but attack me rather than the path I follow and which I point out to anyone who asks me where I think it lies. If I know the way home and am walking along it drunkenly, is it any less the right way because I am staggering from side to side!"
~Leo Tolstoy, 19th century Russian novelist, quoted in UnChristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks About Christianity...And Why It Matters, by David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons. You should read this book.

Ultimate Frisbee Players Unite!

Frisbeetarianism is the belief that when you die, your soul goes up on the roof and gets stuck.
~George Carlin

Funny is Hereditary...you get it from your kids

"Trying to be a first-rate reporter on the average American newspaper is like trying to play Bach's 'St. Matthew's Passion' on a ukulele." (source unknown)

Sooo....sorry for the heaviness of the posts recently. I decided I need to lighten things up here. So I'm turning to my daughter to help out. She works at an area newspaper, and while she wrote tons of stories as a lowly barely-paid intern, now that she graduated and has a full time copywriter position she doesn't get to write stories very often. Instead she sends me funny emails with almost always intriguing subject lines. Unfortunately, I'd already deleted many of them, but I have a few to share, along with some of the actual content. Shhh…don't tell her...

To: mom
Subject: The weird, wild world of Sanilac County (or just another day at the copy desk...)

This hilarious, disgusting, classically podunk image is going to appear in the Sunday edition of The Jeffersonian, with this caption:
Fungus among us!
Autumn is the time for mushrooms and Bill Eckel found a doozy on his lawn at 6121 Lakeshore Rd., Lexington. It is a specimen of calvatea gigantea or – giant puffball. It had a circumference of 34 inches and weighed four pounds. Many puffballs are edible, but be careful, because some are toxic.
Thought ya'll might appreciate it.

Some are just blatant ploys for parental favors:

To: mom
Subject: Love the Madness
Just FYI, you can get a women's Moosejaw hoodie for half off (that's $25 instead of $50) if you enter coupon code 689 today. In case you were wondering what to get me for Christmas or Sweetest Day or Tuesday or something...

Cool connection to a website I recommended...

To: Mom
Subject: Exploding dog used my title!
I was referring to the Ben Folds concert, but his take on it is pretty funny...
http://www.explodingdog.com/title/ijustcantwait.html

My apologies for the swear word, but you gotta admit it's funny...

To: Mom
Subject: What we all with we could say when someone asked us to explain ourselves...

I just asked the founder of Moosejaw if he could explain a statement in the press release I received, which said something about Moosejaw being "well positioned" to take advantage of the growing popularity of outdoor activities like climbing, hiking, etc. His answer? "Shit, I don't know!" Refreshing honesty, although at 3:30 in the afternoon, with post-lunch drowsiness in full effect, I wasn't exactly sure how to respond.
Happy Tuesday :)

Sunday Morning..Last Goodbyes

The best things said come last. People will talk for hours saying nothing much and then linger at the door with words that come with a rush from the heart. ~Alan Alda

Thankful for True Friends

"True friendship is a sacred, important thing, and it happens when we drop down into that deeper level of who we are, when we cross over into the broken, fragile parts of ourselves. We have to give something up in order to get friendships like that. We have to give up our need to be perceived as perfect. We have to give up our ability to control what people think of us. We have to overcome the fear that when they see the depths of who we are, they'll leave. But what we give up is nothing in comparison to what this kind of friendship gives to us. Friendship is about risk. Love is about risk. If we can control it and manage it and manufacture it, then it's something else, but it's really love, really friendship, it's a little scary around the edges."

Cold Tangerines: Celebrating the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday Life

By Shauna Niequist

A Life of Faith

"Living a life of faith means never knowing where you are being led,” writes Oswald Chambers. “But it does mean loving and knowing the One who is leading. It is literally a life of faith, not of understanding and reason – a life of knowing him who calls us to go.”

I am going. I am starting a new job at a new church. I am (well technically, "we are") leaving our church and joining this new church. It hasn't been an easy decision. While most friends understand it and know and love us enough to have an idea of our motivations, people still ask, "Why?" It's not an easy story to tell, because there are lots of little stories that led us down this path.

The short version is "Our pastor and friend left. When we knew he was leaving, we stopped to evaluate my job and our service and God began to call us elsewhere."

Maybe a metaphor would help: "When we tried to unpack the overstuffed emotional baggage that comes from being deeply involved in a church that is going through years of 'transition' and struggles, we found that we just needed a whole new suitcase. The old stuff in there doesn't even fit us anymore."

My husband in exasperation has said, "Sometimes you just need to change churches after 16 years! There doesn't have to be a big overly-spiritualized reason!"

The faith side of it is I cracked the door open in a moment of worry and grief about the coming changes and tossed out a resume. And I feel like God flung the door wide open and said "come on, we're going somewhere and it's going to be big and scary and exciting and a lot of people won't understand, but I'm in it and that's what matters."

And after much wrestling, procrastinating, whining, and praying, there was a peace that settled in. I hadn't really even said "yes, I'll go with you on this" in my head, but my heart was already there. There was peace.

At one point in the wrestling process, I sat on the front porch step while my husband worked in the yard on a gorgeous late August day and I felt the Holy Spirit. Now if you know me at all, you know I am generally more a thinker than an emotional/feeler kind of person in this area, but I'm telling you I felt Him. A breeze and the sun and then the quiet whisper saying to my soul "It's going to be alright. Trust me." I hadn't decided yet, but God was with me in the tension, reminding me that whether or not I understood or knew where I was going, He was with me. He would be the one calling me.

Most of the people at our church are staying. The most amazing and encouraging thing is that I've literally heard the exact same words coming from many people: "God isn't telling me to go, so we are staying." Listening to what God is saying, whether it is "stay" or "go"--following Him when you don't know where you're being led--that is what it means to live a life of faith. May we be gracious and encourage each other to keep our eyes on the "One who is leading".

"All Those Stories"

"But the thing about remembering is that you don't forget. You take your material where you find it, which is in your life, at the intersection of past and present. The memory-traffic feeds into a rotary up on your head, where it goes in circles for a while, then pretty soon imagination flows in and the traffic merges and shoots off down a thousand different streets. As a writer, all you can do is pick a street and go for the ride, putting things down as they come at you. That's the real obsession. All those stories."

Tim O'Brien, "The Things They Carried"

People Who Make Me Happy!

"Let us be grateful to people who make us happy. They are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom" Marcel Proust

A short list of the charming gardeners in my life. (Forgive me if you're not on here. I love you too. It's not unabridged.)


My husband, who gets me and still likes hanging out with me after 25 years. Even if when I'm whiny. And just started playing electric guitar for fun. Quietly.

My funny, thinks-like-me daughter, who recently sent me this line in an email:

"you're super executive assistant woman! You can leap over tall stacks of bulletins in a single bound! You can generate multiple Google docs while counseling whiney parishoners! You can speak Pastor! The world of executive assistants to the pastor salutes you!"
(not that any of you are whiny....)

My son-in-law who uses words like "Ridiculous!" and "Amazing!" to describe anything he deems cool/fun/crazy and plays guitar beautifully and is just fun and at least does a good job of pretending he likes hanging out with us.

My dad, who still calls me 'a varmit'.

My mom, who calls me just to talk. A lot.

My sister who manages to be sweet and encouraging even while 8 hours away.

My sister-in-law who actually trusts me to give her child raising advice from time to time.

My mentally handicapped friend, Barb, who calls just to say she's excited about going bowling with a friend. And wears pants that say "I'm a keeper".

My boss (honest, I'm not sucking up...!), who can quote Seinfeld and The Office and Eugene Petersen and is willing to share enough hilarious stories about his daughters so we don't go nuts in the office.

My friend Amy, who laughs at my lame jokes and is willing to sing stupid songs with me. ("The greatest Sub of all...")

Forever grateful to you all.

"Laugh with your happy friends when they're happy; share tears when they're down. Get along with each other; don't be stuck-up. Make friends with nobodies; don't be the great somebody. (The Message, Romans 12:14-16)

Live the Mission Here

From a great article in this month's Relevant Magazine titled "Fake Plastic World" comes this quote from a group of people who spent 3 months in communist China. They were challenged not only in their misconception of China, but also their thoughts about "mission work" in general:

"Some redefined thought patterns have been the incarnational realization that love without mission is fake; mission without love is injustice; and if we are not reaching out right now wherever we are with love, mission and excellence of work, why would we sincerely do that in another country?"

The Things I Remember

"Stories are for joining the past to the future. Stories are for those late hours in the night when you can't remember how you got from where you were to where you are. Stories are for eternity, when memory is erased, when there is nothing to remember except the story."
~Tim O'Brien, "The Things They Carried"

I can remember attending my great-grandfather's funeral. I was only 5. I remember that it was at the small country church up the gravel road from our house. Like you would imagine a one-room school house, it had a vestibule and one small sanctuary room, the far end elevated a step and accommodating a piano and pulpit. I walked there, with a relative, (I think my aunt), not my parents. I remember standing in the pew to sing, a man in a white suit, and looking in the casket at my paternal grandmother's father. He and my great-grandmother Cox had lived down the road from us in an old farmhouse. I remember visiting them, and I think, walking around in their yard and looking at their flowers (later note-my mother confirms that while the other grandkids didn't spend much time with him due to his hearing loss, he used to carry me around in the yard and talk to me). My mom has a picture of me with the two of them, taken in their kitchen, held in my grandfather's arms. They look proud and enthralled by the energy and whimsy that can only come from a little girl who is well loved.

I remember Grandad Cox sitting on the concrete front porch of my grandparent's farm house in his rocking chair with the wide flat armrests while we all sat in various chairs or on the cool concrete as we grew sleepy after Sunday dinner and sought out a cool spot after the residual heat from the kitchen leaked through the rest of the house. My great-grandmother would be around for many more years, living to be 98 years old. She died shortly after I was married, having spent her last years alternating monthly between living at my grandmother's and her sister's house. She was mostly unable to care for herself at the end, and so hard of hearing that time spent there left you exhausted from speaking loudly all afternoon so as to include her in the conversations. But, we did it, uncomplaining. Where I grew up, you showed respect to your elders--you honored them.

I remember very little else about my great-grandfather. I learned years later that he had not allowed his daughters to learn to drive, but that they waited until he went off to work, then taught themselves. My grandmother worked at a cafe in town when she was only 18, supposedly without him even knowing it.

My grandparents are both still living alone, "in town"(they sold the farm house only a few years ago). They are only able to do this because my dad and mom take care of them, checking on them every day. Some days dad takes Grandad Douglas to the local restaurant to visit, but most days now he's not up for it. He recently renewed his drivers liscence. After driving to the nearby town and taking the test, Grandmother had to drive him home-he was too tired. He doesn't really drive anymore. He is 99 years old after all. It's a "I am still a grown man" kind of statement. Grandmother turns 90 in July, and I'm sure she will fight to keep her independence, when he is gone--the same determined spirit she had when she was young still peeking through, even as she seems to emotionally hang on my father more and more. Having spent so many years caring for her own frail and demanding mother in her last years, she will not give up easily to being cared for in the daily routine things.

I am going to visit them in a couple of weeks. Getting a little older tends to make you take stock more often of how "you got from where you were to where you are", and there are times I see their life patterns imprinted in mine. How sad it is that we usually know so little of the truth and the real stories of our grandparent's lives. It should remind us to ask better questions of our own parents and grandparents that are still living. We should ask them to share their stories. We may be surprised at what they remember.

Travel Diversity

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime. ~Mark Twain, The Innocents

Cultural diversity is something you are bound to encounter on any vacation. And I'm not just talking about there being Canadians from every province all visiting Mexico the week we were there. "We're from P.E.I! Where are you from? B.C.! My aunt lives there! Lovely here, eh?" (by the way, British Columbia's slogan is "Super, Natural B.C."--cool and spooky at the same time). Anyway, it was fun getting to practice our Spanish as we interacted with the Mexican people who took care of us. Off the resort, Dale struck up a conversation with a young man on a "collectivo", the Yucatan's answer to public transportation. These are 15 passenger vans that run up and down the main highway stopping to cram 12-18 people inside. For $2 they will drop you anywhere along the strip-a bargain for vacationers wanting to venture "off resort". Through their conversation (he had lived in the U.S. for a while and spoke very good English) hubby learned that he had been a desk clerk at the resort we were staying. Salary? $5 a day. That's it. You started to understand why the bus boys that deliver your luggage were always older men--they got frequent tips which would boost their daily salary tremendously. It was a step up from desk clerk. Sobering. Now I know that there is a great difference in cost of living there, but I also know how much the collectivo cost-$2 a person.

I need to appreciate what I have more than I do, that's for sure. And to quit whining about gas prices.

Of course, then there's these guys:

They run a kiteboarding business on Paradise Beach in Tulum. The kites were amazing to watch, and of course hubby would have loved to give it a try. Cost? $200 for a 4 hour lesson. That's right-$50 bucks and hour. Are we in the wrong business or what? (They are eating some kind of pies they bought from a young Mexican kid that was selling them from a tray.) Too cool.

Tommorrow I'll tell you about the Mayan component of our trip. No heads will roll, I promise.

What Do You Want to Be When You Grow Up?

"All of us in our forties and beyond need to come to a reckoning of what we wanted to be and who we actually are; that's one definition of maturity. Grown-ups can accept that they aren't international opera stars or Nobel Prizewinners in medicine, rather than live in disappointment, they appreciate the reality of who they've become and acknowledge their skills, accomplishments and lessons learned." (Laura Fraser in an article in More Magazine)

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

A simple question we ask children from the time they are very small. When I was a kid, at various points I wanted to be a vet, a music teacher, an author, a poet, and I'm sure a few other things I've long since forgotten. With the exception of the vet, I've actually been all of the other things at one time or another, to one degree or another. We've owned 2 dogs during our marriage, both of which developed nasty biting habits and had to be sent away (one to be put down, the other to live in the country in what really could be considered 'doggy heaven'), so I'm thinking there's a reason for that one. I wrote poetry when I was in high school and won some minor awards, enough to feel my poetic and oh-so-mournful 16 year old soul had been taken seriously. Even without a teaching degree, I was able to teach piano for many years and enjoyed the interaction and joy of seeing children learn a new skill. A few years ago I taught vocal music at a private school, preschool through 5th grade, and enjoyed it, but realized this would not have been a good long term career for me for various reasons.

As far as writer....well, other than the drama stuff, I haven't really lived that one out. That is part of the reason for this blog--I really wanted something that compelled me to write on a more regular basis, with the hope it might develop into more.

Did I want to be a Nobel Prize winner? Nope. Opera star? Maybe Grand Ol' Opry...but no, not really. Did I want to be a church secretary and pastor's assistant? To quote an often used co-worker's phrase...'Are you kidding me?'

Few of us end up where we thought we'd be when we were first asked that question. Is it 'giving up' or 'growing up' when we let go of the early dreams we had for ourselves? Maybe the maturity lies in examining our early dreams for the underlying desire that gave them birth.

The little boy that wanted to be a fireman may have had a longing to help and rescue people in distress. That desire might play out in adulthood to a lucrative career as a doctor or a calling as a missionary.

We shouldn't live in disappointment that we didn't grow up to be ballerinas or major league baseball players, but as Ms. Fraser states, we should "appreciate the reality" of who we've become. I agree, but with one caveat. While I think it is necessary to "come to a reckoning of what we wanted to be and who we actually are", I don't think we should give up so easily on that earlier unrealized dream.

Wanted to be a ballerina? It's never to late to have fun learning to move and sway in a dance class. Wanted to be a Major League player? There are some really fun softball leagues playing for the joy of the sport.

Want to be a writer? Why not start out with a blog? You never know what you might end up being when you finally grow up.

Getting Younger on the Inside

"How old would you be if you didn't know how old you are?" (seen on a magnet in O'Hare airport).

If you had to totally rely on your inner heart/mind/soul clock, how old would you be? Take out of the equation what the mirror tells you and what others might say. Just imagine. 22? 37? 64? We always tell our children to 'act their age'. If you really didn't know, would you act the same? Are you acting a certain way because it's how you believe you are supposed to act at your age?

Maybe a way to measure is to ask, do you look or act like your mother or father did at your age? This is a tough one, since it's always a challenge to know what they were truly like at that time. By the time she was my age, my mother had already lived with a difficult and painful disease for almost 20 years. She was affected and shaped by a weight that I have not had to bear-limited physically, but not in spirit. I have been physically active, purposely so through my adult life, and the strength and energy boost that comes with that has affected me physically and mentally.
Age really is an attitude thing though. Want to be younger at heart? Don't like the inner age you've settled for? Ask yourself:

Do I embrace change and look for the positive in it?
Do I still seek out new experiences or always choose the safe course?
Do I reach out to others and develop new friendships with people of all ages?
Do I believe in the God who is always making all things new and gives us chances to start over?

I take comfort in the fact that God renews us in our inner being. Sounds like the best makeover to me!

By the way, I guess I'd be 34. Except on some days when I'd swear I'm 23! And others when I'm at least 68! (Decisiveness is not one of my strong points--maybe it's a lack of maturity thing)

How about you?

Vacation Expectations

Like all great travellers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen. ~Benjamin Disraeli

Vacation was wonderful. I could lie and say it was boring or the weather was bad or the food was awful to make you feel better, but it was all good. So much of vacation is expectation. We dream and ponder what a certain place will be like, and we begin to imagine ourselves there-what we will see and do and experience. Hubby and I spent hours on Trip Advisor before and after we made our reservations trying to figure out what we would enjoy doing the most. It gave us great ideas, but in the end, you just have to go and roll with it. You have to be willing to let go of expectations that aren't jiving with the realities of the place you find yourself in and choose to make the best of it. The most fun things are often born out of the spontaneous--and out of the being open to whatever or whoever comes your way. Vacation is a lot like life that way.

The resort was gorgeous, with great food and beautiful pools.


One of the best days we had was the day we rented a car and explored outside of the resort. We had heard about cenotes, and went off to explore. Cenotes are sinkholes, where underground water sources have eaten away the limestone and then the surface rock has collapsed in. A not very appealing description of some of the most beautiful places we've seen. Imagine Mammoth Cave underwater--and you snorkeling over the top of it. As the rainwater seeps through the soil into a cenote, it filters it, and you end up with almost no "suspended particulate matter". Which is a fancy way to say it is very, very clear water. There are very few fish. Dale is actually several feet underwater in the second picture. This is Gran Cenote.






























The real show is under the water, as you can see in this video taken by scuba divers in the cenote:

Beautiful Home

No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow. ~Lin Yutang

It is good to be home. But, it is also good to be on vacation, and the first Monday after returning from vacation should just automatically be a "you get to be grumpy" day. Especially when you end up with a post-travel springtime sinus infection. And you have a pile of work on your desk.

You find yourself just longing for another look at this view:










I will be sharing a few stories from our trip over the next week. And in the meantime, I'll try to enjoy the beautiful sunny spring we are having here.

I am rejoicing in my old familiar pillow....

Caribbean Dreams

"The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page." ~St. Augustine

Ok, maybe that quote is a little highbrow for a trip to the Mayan Riviera, but it conveys the spirit that hubby and I like to take on any vacation. And so tomorrow we dive into the adventure of exploring a part of the Yucatan Penninsula. We plan to lay on the beach, snorkel with the sea turtles, swim in cenotes, and eat too much great food.

I get to use my passport for the first time!

"A passport, as I'm sure you know, is a document that one shows to government officials whenever one reaches a border between countries, so the officials can learn who you are, where you were born, and how you look when photographed unflatteringly." ~Lemony Snicket

Mine definitely fits this description.

I'll do my best to bring back some sunshine and heat for all the Michiganders. See you all next week!

How I Wish I Could View My Stretch Marks...

"....over the stretch marks that were like inlaid streaks of mother-of-pearl that would never fade, whose brilliance spoke only for the body's decay."

From "Unaccustomed Earth" by Jhumpa Lahira, a book I have not read and therefore am not recommending. I just like anyone that can make stretch marks sound like a gift!

Acceptance is a Bathingsuit Thing

"But part of being over 40 is accepting the fact that certain doors are closing--and growing up enough to notice that other doors are open." (Kelly Corrigan, 40, author of "The Middle Place" in an interview in More magazine)

I went bathing suit shopping this weekend. This was not as completely torturous as a friend pointed out it usually is due to two things. One, I'm buying it in anticipation of a week long trip to Cancun with my husband coming up in mere weeks, and secondly, I have lost over 15 pounds since the last time I bought one. But, alas, as I told my shopping buddy, even at a smaller size there are still difficulties. No matter what the size on the tag, they each fit differently, and as you wrestle one after another over your head or up your hips, the large store security tag pokes you under the armpit and you end up doing this weird hopping dance to get your feet through the holes! There also seems to be no rhyme or reason to the size match ups for tops and bottoms, neccesitating several trips back out to the racks for a "slightly larger or smaller" bottom to go with the "just a little bigger or smaller" top. And as you know, this means re-dressing and undressing yet again. The whole thing is just exhausting! I needed a nap when I got home, and hubby was only mildly enthused about my selection. "Why didn't you get a bikini?", he asked totally straight faced.

He doesn't get that I am willing to accept that certain doors--bikinis being one--are closed to me. But I am growing up enough to know that others doors are open. And that's why I bought the new jeans. On clearance. 2 sizes smaller than last year.