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Dear Summer,

I’ve been a good sport, I really have. I have air conditioning, which makes it easier, but your 90+ temperatures this year have made it really yucky to do some things that I enjoy, like work in the garden or spend a lot of time outside.

You see, Summer, I love you sometimes. I love your 75° days with clear blue skies and no humidity. I love spending days on the lake with you and my family. I love the explosion of color as tons of flowers compete with each other for the best blooms in July and August, the crackle of an evening thunderstorm, and going outside without bundling up. You’re not all bad, Summer, you need to know that, but some of the things you do really get to me sometimes.

For example, this year in particular, you make me sweat just because I breathe. This is completely unfair. I expect to sweat, say, when I work out or go for a run. There’s a payoff, you see, because I’m burning calories and getting stronger. I’m even okay with glowing a bit when I get into my closed-up car before it cools off. But sweating just because I’m outside is gross. I hate it, especially when the humidity is up there and it feels like I’m wrapped in a hot, wet, blanket. There have been more of those days than not this year, Summer, and it’s high time I said something.

Now, before you protest, I’ll admit that I am, indeed, an Autumn girl through and through, but just because Autumn is my favorite doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate things about the other seasons, including you! Winter can be absolutely breathtaking with its frozen beauty and, of course, it has all the wonders of the holiday season to help it along. Snow days from school also give it some bonus points. Winter does have its drawbacks, but there’s something cozy about coming in from the cold or from shoveling and warming up snuggled in a blanket on the couch. Although Winter aggravates my Renaud’s, hand and toe warmers help with that.

Spring is, admittedly, my second favorite, with blossoms bursting out of trees, baby animals, and more daylight. Spring is unpredictable around here. In any given week, it can be snowing on Sunday, but shorts weather by Thursday. It’s time to plant my garden and the perennials begin to fill in from the seemingly dead winter branches. Spring renews things and makes them beautiful.

That isn’t to say, Summer, that you’re not beautiful. You are! Watching my nieces play in the sand and water is beautiful. Watching the butterflies flit around the flowers is beautiful. Freezing my feet and legs in the Massachusetts ocean while the top half of me is warm is beautiful. Color- splashed sunsets after nine o’clock are beautiful. You definitely have your good points, Summer, and I don’t want to minimize those at all. Several people that I know like you the best; you have quite the fan club, you know. I’m just not always a part of it.

What don’t I like about you? Just a few things, really, but those few things can come close to being deal breakers. For example, why does it seem like every single bug have to bite me when it’s already annoyingly humid? The humidity already makes me cranky, why do you also have to bite?

What is it with the extreme temperatures? I know, I know, global warming and all, but really? Why do you want to drain all of my energy and melt me? There are people who really do enjoy your heat and humidity, but I seriously feel that I’m not built for this stuff. I have a difficult time functioning. I’m not telling you to get rid of your heat and humidity entirely, you are Summer, after all, but maybe just tone it down a bit for those of us who are not heat-tolerant. There’s nothing attractive about being sweaty and having strands of hair sticking to the back of one’s neck.

I hope you don’t feel like I’m picking on you, Summer. I hate confrontation, but I think that things have gotten to the point where this intervention is necessary. It’s now the third day of September and the heat index is going to be 97°. Let me say that again. On September 3rd, it will feel like it’s 97° outside. This is not July. I could see eighties now, I really could, or high seventies, because I know you’re not finished yet. You have another three weeks before Autumn moves in and I don’t want you to feel like you have to pack up already. But maybe you could exit gracefully, on a high note.

Think about it: instead of the glaring heat, you could say your goodbyes and make these last three weeks pleasant and warm instead of equator-hot. Tone down the humidity, unless you’re going to rain. Rain can upset some plans, but we all know it’s necessary and it helps you keep your gorgeous color. I can live with that. In fact, a few more rainy days this year would have been a good thing. I just hate feeling like I’m walking into a rainforest every time I step outside.

In closing, Summer, I appreciate you, I really do, but it feels like you’re trying too hard this year. You already have many wonderful qualities, don’t over-do it. We live in Michigan, not Costa Rica. It should not be hotter than Miami, as it has been on some days. Chill out, literally, just a bit, and we’ll get along just fine.

Now, enjoy your last three weeks and enjoy a restful nine months. I look forward to seeing you again in June.

All my best,

Julie

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“The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last for ever. Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year – the days when summer is changing into autumn – the crickets spread the rumour of sadness and change.” E.B. White. Charlotte’s Web

It’s the end of another summer. Yes, I know that summer doesn’t technically end until September 22, but for me, as a teacher, summer is effectively over. And before anyone says anything about teachers having the whole summer off, blah, blah, blah, let me remind you that we’re working our tails off for ten months out of the year including our “own time”  during evenings, weekends, and holidays, PLUS we attend meetings , college classes, and professional development during the summer, so bugger off about that particular point. There, enough said about it.

I’m not a huge summer fan in terms of weather. I hate hot and humid and I’m an autumn girl through and through, but I enjoy the recovery time from my job.

This summer was incredibly busy, despite being the first summer that I haven’t worked a second job in several years. I think I tried to cram in everything that I’m not able to do during the school year and wore myself out in the process. Here is a sampling of Summer 2018.

  • I was able to let my natural body clock have its way again. I’m naturally a night owl and it felt SO GOOD to just sleep and wake up naturally. If only school started at 10:00.
  • I painted the living room. It really needed it, having been more than ten years since I had painted it last. While I love the finished product, I forgot how draining painting a room can be. At least I don’t have to do it for another ten years and I bought new curtains to boot.
  • Marty and I attended a lot of funeral home visitations and funerals summer, some expected, some not. Either way, it’s a reminder that we only get one shot at this life and I intend to fit in everything I can while I can. That also means staying active and being healthy in both mind and body so that I can do all of the things I want to do before it’s my turn. We said goodbye to some very special people this year. It makes you appreciate loved ones, and your time, all the more. We’re not promised tomorrow.
  • I did some spiritual insight seeking, learning to meditate and to spend time looking within, to be spiritually in tune with myself and with God. I believe we are given spiritual gifts, we just don’t use them like we should. I’d like to get better at that.
  • We went on vacation. See the July post for details about the “Ocean and Dead People Tour”, which was awesome. Anytime I’m near the ocean, I’m happy.
  • Speaking of our vacation, we did a lot more family history research. We’re kind of obsessed, although Marty would argue that I may have an addiction to Ancestry-crack.
  • I published my book, Traveler, as a paperback through Amazon.com and donated a copy to my local library. It was kind of a big deal for me. Check it out.
  • I read books that were not related to school or schoolwork. Heavenly.
  • I wrote. Not as much as I would have liked, but I did write.
  • I took Youngest Child to rehearsals and did hair for his show. High school kids are awesome, and I sincerely mean that.
  • I auditioned for a show and then I went to rehearsals.
  • I made two new adorable kitty friends. They live across the street and come to visit us pretty much every night for pets and treats. I love them.
  • We spent family time together, precious these days. The boys are starting to go off in their own directions and the time when they will only come home to visit is approaching quickly. I treasure our family dinners, the boys’ impromtu baseball and football games in front of the house, the flying Nerf darts, even the insults. I hope their memories of these days will be happy, too.
  • Marty and I went on lots of dates, including finally going to the Detroit Riverwalk for the first time. This is a good married-person thing to do. Often. I highly recommend it.
  • We started watching The Crown. I’m addicted. And Prince Philip is a jerky-jerk.
  • I rode my bike, Lulu, a lot. We didn’t get the theatre bike group going again, I was too busy to commit to a night this summer, but whenever I had to go to the library or somewhere within 3ish miles, I walked or rode Lulu. Good times.
  • Last, but not least, we took Oldest Child back to school today for his last year of college. Middle Child goes back next weekend. The days of us all together are finished until Thanksgiving. (I’m going to make them take a Christmas card picture while they’re home. Shhhhhhh…)

The crickets are singing, the bats are clicking.

Goodbye, Summer, goodbye. See you next June.

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We don’t take family vacations very often, cost is a preventative, but this year we decided to splurge a bit. Marty and I are both genealogy nerds so we decided to take a trip to visit cemeteries where some of our ancestors are buried. I also insisted on seeing the ocean again, since the ocean and I are BFFs and Youngest Child was the only one to never have seen it at all. Like all great tours, this one needed a name and so we settled upon the “Ocean and Dead People Tour 2018”. Yeah, our sense of humor is a little macabre, but we love it.

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I won’t bog you down with details, but here are some of the highlights.

  • Ohio is still boring to drive through. (Note: This is no way reflects on the people of Ohio or the good food that they grow, but 200+ miles of farms (broken up by Cleveland) tends to make one weary.
  • All food in Lancaster County is comfort food and portions are huge. Middle Child ordered meatloaf for dinner and got a slab the size of his head.
  • Intercourse, Blue Ball, Paradise,, and Virginville, Pennsylvania are all real places and all within the same area. Yes, the locals know it and, yes, they do capitalize on it.IMG_1716
  • I navigated driving through NYC!!! Of course, we did not visit Manhattan, since neither of us have people there, but we drove through Brooklyn and Yonkers where we, no kidding, got slightly lost. I had joked about that before we left, but it really did happen for a couple of minutes.IMG_1727
  • For such a small state, Connecticut seems to go on forever. It’s beautiful, though, so it’s okay.
  • Boston rush hour traffic sucks. There is no other way to say it. It’s even slightly worse than Chicago. We saw lots of rocky cliffs, though, so we had something to look at going one mile every five minutes.IMG_20180718_171210798
  • Seeing a sign for Framingham and Boston on the MassPike sent me into a dorky tizzy because, “We’ve gone from Framingham to Boston and we cannot find a pin!” (1776)
  • Salem is a busy place, but, wow! It’s really funny because there’s kitschy witch stuff everywhere, but there are also tours that are trying to emphasize the maritime history, so it’s a veritable mix of witches and pirates. I did not get a reading from any of the 50+ advertised witches.
  • I love Salem. It’s extremely walkable, busy, full of old history, and right on the ocean. I could happily live there while pining for London. IMG_1778

 

  • The Old Burying Point in Salem is quite possibly the coolest cemetery in the world.IMG_1740
  • I adore the ocean, but over the years, I’ve developed a fear of being in deep water where I can’t see the bottom. I found that I still have this fear while trying to dip my feet in the waters on the historic Salem Marina.
  • The ocean in Massachusetts is FREEZING!!!IMG_1761
  • Massachusetts accents are adorable, but not when Middle Child insists on using it the entire time we were there.
  • You can get chicken strips pretty much everywhere. Youngest Child supplied us with that knowledge.
  • Upstate New York is pretty, but a loooooooong drive from east to west.
  • I am really, really, happy near big water, including Lake Erie.

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  • We saw license plates from 41 states, the District of Columbia, and four Canadian provinces. The missing states? Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, New Mexico, North Dakota, South Dakota, Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming. The back of a Sausage McMuffin bag is an ideal place to keep track of this.
  • When the GPS dies, I can still read a map.
  • I added 3.5 states to my “visited” list, bringing my total to 21. I had changed planes at New York’s LaGuardia last year, so that only counted as a half for New York.

All in all, there was a lot of car time, but it was a great vacation. We saw a lot, ate a lot, and saw new things. I didn’t have to cook for an entire week, which was a vacation in itself.

Travel is the best.

 

 

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Dear New Daddy,

You didn’t know it (or you might have, who knows?), but I watched you the other day. Not in a creepy stalker way, although my husband may disagree, but I couldn’t help myself.

We were guests at a wedding, an absolutely wonderful time filled with love and laughter. At the reception, across the room from our table, you were holding your new daughter who, I found out later from her grandmother, was ten weeks old. She was adorable, this little bitty peanut in a navy blue dress with the obligatory giant bow on her little head.

If you know me at all, you know that I am powerless in the presence of babies. In my family, I have the reputation of being the baby-stealer. I adore them. Every maternal instinct in me cries out to cuddle those little snug-a-bugs and I don’t care who knows it. Social anxiety be damned, it’s no match for my baby fever. I lose all inhibitions at the chance of eliciting one little gummy smile from a cherub face, of wiggling an irresistible toe. Your baby was one of many little ones that day, adding even more joy to a wonderful day.

While your baby was reason enough for me to be admiring her, it was your interaction with your little one that made me keep on stealing glances.

You had her tiny head cradled in one of your big daddy hands, her little diaper butt in the other. You were engaging her, talking to her, smiling at her, making those goofy faces that adults only make when we talk to babies, and she was fully into watching you, those bottomless eyes watching one of her favorite people in the world. I love when people talk to their children like that; no texting or other cell phone distractions, just pure parent/child time together. The thing that touched me so much that I decided to write about it, though, was the love in your eyes as you looked at your baby girl. For that moment, nothing else mattered to you; she was your whole world, a wee girl and her Daddy. It gave my heart the warm fuzzies to watch. My eyes still well up when I think about it.

Why am I gushing on about this? It’s simple. I want you to remember. I want you to remember that exact moment when it was just you and her in your own little world, not noticing themusic, the cake, or the baby-crazy lady a few tables over. You connected, you were bonding, you were loving this adorable little human with everything in your soul. Remember this, Daddy, because there will be times in the next eighteen years when you don’t feel quite as close to her. Buckle up, Buttercup, because parenting is no joke.

There will be sass, hopefully less rather than more, but at some point, she will assert herself and it will completely take you by surprise. I still remember hearing that first, “I don’t have to listen to you!” pop out of the mouth of my sweet boy and it rocking my world. Oh, yes, there will be sass and the bigger they are, the worse it can get. Prepare yourself.

There will be slammed doors, maybe from her, maybe from you. (I am guilty of this after losing my temper because of, you guessed it: sass.) There will be angry tears, cries of, “You’re SO unfair!”, and rolled eyes. There will be friends of hers that you can’t stand, hours of PBS Kids, and endless messes to clean up. There will be times when you wonder what you were thinking. It is so important that during those difficult times, you remember those beautiful moments, the moments like I witnessed, where all is right in your world. Those are the moments that will get you through those tough ones, like when you’re trying to figure out how to get nail polish off of a wall or dealing with explosive diarrhea in the middle of the night. (All over the bathroom. Enough to where you have to get entirely new bath rugs, towels, and shower curtain and spend two hours bleaching everything else. I’m not kidding. Seriously, I have PTSD from that night.)

There are moments that I hold onto now, with Youngest Child being a teenager. Teenagers, you see, are their own special category. They can be both extremely frustrating and incredibly lovable, often in the same day. The same teenager that whines and moans about emptying the dishwasher or cleaning the lizard cage can say something profoundly sweet in the next minute, sometimes without an ulterior motive. In a word, they can be a challenge. I digress…

One of the moments that I hold onto with Youngest Child is when he fell asleep on my chest on the couch. He was around six months old, still a little bobble-head, and had been having a difficult time settling down to his nap. He wanted to be with his mama, and snuggled up to sleep so sweetly in my arms that I just let him take his entire nap on me. He little cheeks were so soft and he was so warm and cuddly that I couldn’t bear to take him up to his crib. My heart was full, in that moment, life couldn’t have gotten any better for me. When he woke, he realized where he was and smiled at me so happily that it melted my heart even more. It was perfect.

I remember that moment, and many others, when he comes home covered in mud on my clean floors, when he stalls so he doesn’t have to clean his room, when he “forgets” to let me know who he was with. Those moments remind you that you can get through this, that you do have this bond with your child. And, lest I completely scare you off, it does get better. They start understanding why you made the rules that you did and, as they get more independent, they understand you better. We’re experiencing this with Oldest Child right now and, let me tell you, it is balm for a parent’s soul when they have to clean their own place.

New Daddy, these moments you have right now are precious, something that you will look back at with misty eyes the older she gets. I still can’t watch family videos without tearing up. You’ll make tons of wonderful memories, plenty to draw from during those difficult times, but I’m telling you to not take those moments for granted. Treasure them, cherish them, just as you do that baby girl of yours. Children should be cherished, they should be loved with our whole hearts, even when they make us crazy. We have to take a step back, cool down, and remember. Remember that toothless grin, that grip of a tiny fist around one of our fingers, the sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, the first, “I love you”. spoken in a tiny voice.

You’ve got a good thing going, New Daddy. I wish you and your little girl much love. Thank you for letting me be a witness.

 

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On Friday afternoons, unless it’s pouring buckets or absolutely freezing, I walk to get my lunch from an Italian restaurant near where I work. It’s not far, not quite half a mile, and it’s my treat to myself while getting in some steps to appease the Fitbit.

I’ve come to really enjoy my Friday walks. I enjoy walking in general, but walking here gives me a perspective on the vibrant neighborhood that thrives, unbelievably, in the shadow of the Ford Rouge Factory and the other factories around it.

While Ford has made great strides in cleaning up its act in recent years, the pollution is all around. You can witness it in the belching smoke stacks, the thousands of semi-trucks that thunder past my school down Wyoming every day, and in the acrid chemical smell that mingles with the mouth-watering scent of meat from Dearborn Sausage next door. There are unidentifiable black specks that coat my car some days and during lessons, train cars crash together on the tracks in the train yard directly across from the teachers’ parking lot. It’s a gritty kind of place.

The area I teach in is not a rich neighborhood, not by any means. While there are some new houses, most have been there for several decades and they look it. Some of the small front yards are fenced in and remind me of the front yards, or gardens, in England. Like any neighborhood, some yards are better taken care of than others. There are porches littered with lawn furniture for evening visits and back yards with fire pits. Broken glass litters the sidewalk in some places and there are wrappers scattered about. Still, the community in the South End is an amazing one, tightly knit together by culture, family, and tradition.

The small neighborhood is made of up of mostly Arab-Americans, mainly Yemeni, whose children I teach. Some families have been here for generations and some arrived last week. It borders on the city of Detroit and has the busy roads of Dix and Vernor running through it, where I pass by on my walk.

Dix is full of small businesses; medical buildings, a Yemeni travel agency, small grocers, and, I love this, two live poultry shops right next to each other. When I go past, I can sometimes hear the clucking and on warm days, I can definitely smell that there are live chickens. It brings me right back to the farm when I used to gather eggs in the mornings or on coop cleaning day. Friday afternoons are usually busy at the poultry shops with cars pulling up haphazardly in the parking lot and parking wherever they like. The customers nod and smile pleasantly at me every time. In fact, in my school year there, I haven’t had one unkind word, look, or gesture on my walks. It makes me feel happy.

After getting my pint of chicken pastina and bread (the bread is the entire reason for going), I head back to school. If I’ve timed it right, I hear the call to prayer coming from the mosque on Vernor, just a block away. On my way back to school, I pass all sorts of people headed to the mosque for the Friday lecture and prayers. There are older men walking alone, wearing traditional clothing, and clumps of women in black abayat, all heading to the mosque for the holy day. The call to prayer, the people walking, all contribute to the overall feeling of this part of my city like nowhere else. It has an exotic feel, a good feeling, a feeling that makes me happy to be there and witness the day-to-day busyness.

I know I’ve painted a pretty-ish picture of life in a tough area, but really, I’m struck by the people. I’m not Muslim, but I love seeing their devotion. I love seeing their pride in where they come from and how they’ve adapted their culture to life in the States. I am a recipient of their kindness and hospitality. I admire their resilience and their sense of community.  Of course, there are issues. What community doesn’t? I don’t pretend to be oblivious to that, but that’s not what this part of my city is about. That’s not what this post is about.

It’s about an observer, me, seeing the wonderful things that another culture has to offer to, just for a moment, get lost in their daily world on my Friday walk. It’s about seeing my neighbors live their lives despite the looming shadow of an industrial area. It’s about embracing all the differences of humanity and loving it for what it is.

I love my city.

The End.

 

 

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The title is self-explanatory. These are things that I don’t understand, some in good ways, some in bad ways, some in neutral ways. These are in no particular order.

  • Sushi. I know people like it, I just don’t know why. For the record, I’ve tried it a few times just to make sure. After almost hurling up the last attempt sixteen years ago, I decided that I was done. You can have my share.
  • Misogyny. Why do some men hate women and think that they are inferior? Is your ego so fragile that you can’t accept women as equals? Smh.
  • Child prodigies. Amazing, but HOW???
  • Urban sprawl. I brought my son home from college this week and we went the long way down Geddes Road. We passed a bunch of new subdivisions and all of the houses were beige. Every. Single. One. Why beige? And why don’t real estate investors put their money into revamping old neighborhoods rather than taking over wild areas? It could be awesome and not beige. Something that I think about.
  • Football. Four years of marching band and being married to a football fan for twenty-one years and I still can’t tell you what’s happening.
  • Parents who don’t parent and their kids are wild. Enough said.
  • Real Housewives of Anything. I can’t watch spoiled, middle-aged, drama queens.
  • The Bachelor or The BacheloretteNot my cup of tea (she says while watching Hoarders and Say Yes To the Dress).
  • Sardines. I’m Italian and I still don’t understand sardines.
  • Beer. I LOVE the smell of beer, I truly do, and I tried it enough times to know that it makes me nauseous when I drink it. Friends of mine are discriminating beer drinkers and love it. I wish I understood beer, but wine makes it better.
  • The Golf Channel.
  • Early morning band or sports activities on a Saturday. This is sadism, pure and simple. This goes hand-in-hand with:
  • Waking up early when you don’t have to. Nothing against early-morning people, but I’m naturally a night owl. Yes, sunrises are beautiful, especially in December when the sunrises at a decent hour, like 8 o’clock. Wake up at 5 AM in June to watch the sun come up? Nah, I’m good.
  • Lawn obsessions.
  • Mosquitoes.
  • Girl toys and boy toys. Let the kids play with what they want without putting a label on it. My boys had cars and Legos, but they also had dolls and a kitchen. Big freaking deal.
  • Pointy-toed shoes.
  • Walmart.
  • The addictive power of Cadbury Mini-Eggs.
  • Kanye West. And while I’m at it,
  • Kardashians in general.
  • The “teenage boy smell”.
  • Blue Moon Ice Cream.
  • Racism. It’s ugly. It’s ignorant. It needs to stop.
  • Giant houses. The bigger the house, the more there is to clean.
  • Unmade beds. 
  • Internet trolls.
  • Armpit hair. Why? It’s smelly and yucky and serves no purpose.
  • Purposely loud cars. 
  • Fake geese that wear clothes as porch decorations.
  • Astrophysics. 
  • Regular physics
  • Frogs legs as food. I want to know who the first person was to think, “Let’s eat a slimy frog!”
  • My life. You’d think, by now, that I’d know what I’m doing. Not true. I’m just winging it.
  • God. Not the idea of God; I’m unashamedly a believer. I just wish I knew more real information, clear-cut answers to things instead of listening to people who have twisted things to their own interpretation and agenda. I have to go by my heart and what I feel, but there are times that I would love a “what do you really think about this?” conversation with Him.

This is by no means a full list. The older I get, the more I realize that I don’t know. Some of these things I’ll work to understand, such as the God thing, but others aren’t important, just points of curiosity. In the meantime, I’m going to go look for an episode of Hoarders and chow on some Cadbury Mini-Eggs.

Feel free to comment with things that you don’t understand.

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I’m becoming jaded by the news and I don’t like it. I detest the ugliness, racism, misogyny, lies, and disregard for the environment in our country today and it makes me feel hopeless. I don’t understand why people intentionally ignore facts, excuse blatant wrongs, hurt each other, and don’t take responsibility for their actions. I don’t understand why adults ridicule traumatized children. This country needs a big dose of Dr. Phil and/or God right now, but I have to focus on something else for a minute. I have to, or else the anxiety becomes my whole world. I have to focus on good, beautiful things that I love. Here are some of them.

  • My husband, for so many things, but his hand on my hip as we sleep is something that makes me love him all the more. I’m a light sleeper and I have a lot of bad dreams. Most of the time, when I wake up, Marty is there, a reassuring presence who makes everything alright. (Even if he is snoring loudly.)
  • My boys, individually and all together. They’re so unique, I love talking with each of them alone. And then, when they’re together, it’s like having a heap of puppies romping through the house, except the puppies shoot dart guns, play baseball, and creatively insult each other.
  • Fuzzy kittens. Enough said.
  • My neighborhood party store. Brothers Steve and Randy know me and sell me my weekly MegaMillions ticket on my runs. It’s like Cheers, but not a bar.
  • My theatre. Well, not my theatre. My niece thought I owned it, but no, lol. It’s a place where I’m accepted and I can be myself. I can express myself. A nice place to be.
  • My penpal/dear friend, Sabrina. She lives an ocean away, but is such a kindred spirit. And she puts up with my crappy Italian.
  • Music. It gives so much meaning to life. Hamilton, Pentatonix, and Lindsey Stirling are my current obsessions.
  • Writing. I have an outlet. I’m sort of good at it, but still have a lot to learn. This week, I completed a novel on Bessie Blount, the real one, not the sleazy HBO version. Accomplishment.
  • Babies. Babies are my heart, my joy. Incredible innocence. They’re a promise that life goes on.
  • My church. My church is progressive, including people of all races and sexual identities. I love that.
  • London. London is my dream, my hope, my destiny. I’ve never felt more at home anywhere in the world. Six years now… it’s been too long.
  • Italy. Italy is life to the tenth power. I can’t wait to get back.
  • Cadbury Mini-Eggs. Can’t help it, I adore them.
  • History
  • My therapist, Renee. She’s listened to me for seven years now and I adore her. Most of the time. Not when she’s telling me something that I don’t want to hear, but I know it’s for my own good, but, yeah, she’s awesome.
  • Ireland. Such fond memories of an impossibly beautiful place where I went with some amazing people.
  • Genealogy. I’m a sucker for historic records and long-ago grandparents.
  • Easter candy. Right now, this is an essential part of my diet.
  • God. I saved the best for last. Prayer is essential in these times of confusion/craziness and God remains my rock, every day. My spirituality keeps me centered, grounded, and keeps me sane.

Take some some time and reflect on what makes you happy. Leave it as a comment if you like. I’d love to hear what you love.

Until next time, a presto.

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