Entanglement

I can think of a lot of places I'd rather have been yesterday morning than the gynecologist's office. I know it's something I have to do every year, but as I get older I have noticed a few subtle changes. My appointment was for 10:10 and at 10:50 I was still in the exam room. All that waiting gave me time to notice a couple of things. First of all it was freezing. Sitting there in little more than the equivalent of paper towels draped over my shoulders and lap, my feet and hands began turning purple. I started to put my feet in the warming drawer, but the speculum was in my way. Second, I also noticed that the instrument used to swab my cute little cervix was no longer an innocuous longer than average Q-tip. I was horrified to notice the little cotton tip had been replaced with something that resembled a grill scraper. Really....why ? Third, I could do without the small talk before the exam, too. If they are going to require me to dredge up the last year of my life in order...

Yesterday was my forty-first birthday. Birthdays are a natural time for reflection, I think. I lay on the couch watching my daughters interaction, and smiling with pride at the miracle God has allowed me to share my life with. Love is a powerful thing. The love I feel for them grows stronger and deeper with each passing year. Love affairs may come and go throughout our lives, but a mother's love is the one love that will not fail, will not wax and wane, it's the love we take to the grave—eternal. I wonder if any two people ever feel that way toward one another. Is it possible that two souls could come together, and be so totally and completely right for one another that love is effortless...instant...natural? Is there such thing as a soulmate? My personal experience with love leads me to be skeptical that there is one perfect person out there who will fill that void completely, but do I believe it's possible, absolutely—anything is possible. Loving somebody else begins with...

Any time we are fortunate enough to be reminded of our worth it's a gift. So often, we shuffle through life in a predictable routine or rut becoming numb to life's nuances and subtleties. We slowly become sleepwalkers in the recurring dream that is our waking life. The scenery never changes, and we lose sight of the little things that used to bring us joy. Some of us give up on ourselves. Some of us live for someone else's happiness. Some just get lonely. We forget who we are because we have lost faith in ourselves. We wear our smile like a mask, hiding the sadness underneath. Our soul becomes crippled with lack of exercise—and then someone shines their light on your face, and unexpectedly wakes you from your slumber. They share their breath with you, making it possible for you to start living again.  A woman's worth is immeasurable and should never be taken for granted. Sometimes this stubborn old woman needs a wake up call to remind her of this fact. I have laughed...

When you are young, time seems to move at a snail's pace. You can't wait to grow up. Then you finally do grow up, and there is a period between 18-25 that time seems to move at the same pace you are moving. Everything is good. Then you hit your 30's, you have kids, and the next thing you know time hits warp drive—you're over 40, and you look in the mirror and wonder.... how did I get here so fast? I don't feel as old as my reflection in the mirror looks...I wish I could have a couple of do-overs...I'd have been kinder to my body...I would have done some things differently—better... I wish I had taken my mother's advice to heart when she told me in my youth,  the years will just fly by the older you get. But when you are young, your crazy mother doesn't know what she's talking about.  Now I am repeating the same words to my girls, and they look at me the way I imagine I looked at my mother—like she's looney. I want to catch time and freeze it be...

I hate grocery shopping. It seems I'm always in the god forsaken Publix for something. I can—make a list, get everything on it, spend two hundred dollars, get home, put it all away, and then realize I have forgotten one item. What usually follows is an undignified adult temper tantrum with lots of cursing and stomping about. I start another list, unless it's something crucial that I've forgotten and then I have to return to the store wasting my time, and burning gas for toilet paper. You may be thinking... why doesn't she just go to the kwiki store for one item? Well, sometimes I do, but not for ass wipe. I have to buy the premium, mega mother, softest Charmin brand. I do, after all, have two (okay, three including me) very picky little girls, and one indifferent husband who can't understand why us ladies need to use so much toilet paper in the first place. We, on the other hand, don't understand how he gets his ass clean with three squares of paper—must be a ...

My daughter got a new ceiling fan yesterday. Her old one was cheap builder grade, nine years old and made an awful racket if it was required to spin faster than low speed. I know about this squeaking noise first hand because she had a nightmare a couple of nights ago, and I offered to lie down with her until she got back to sleep. How long had my baby suffered in silence??!! Her room was about 110 degrees with the fan blowing (my husband would disagree and remind me that I'm freakishly hot natured), but the fact was, the fan was so loud it's all I could think about... Why hasn't Ruth Ann said anything about this god awful rickety clanking sound coming outta this fan?...No wonder she reads herself to sleep every night, she's trying to distract herself from this noise ...I wonder what it would sound like on high?...No wonder she hits snooze five times in the morning, she's not getting enough REM sleep...How long have I been lying here?...Is she asleep yet?   Are you...

Well, another spring break has come and gone. Our trip to the beach was scrubbed due to bitterly cold weather. Call me crazy, but I want it to be hot and sunny when I have my toes in the sand, not overcast with a chance of snow flurries. As a matter of fact, the sky did produce some sleet, snow, and fierce winds during our time off... I remember many a spring break with my mom when she refused to be deterred by a cold, windy day at the beach. She bravely (or stupidly) donned her bikini, slathered on some baby oil, grabbed her towel, and headed out to receive those beloved, cancer causing UV rays. I followed closely behind covered head to toe in long sleeves and sweat pants. I would have preferred to stay indoors and sleep, but mom needed me to help her wrestle the towel to the ground, and then park my ass on one corner so that it wouldn't flap back up on her. After hiking half a mile to the seashore, against the wind, our eyes were watering, our lips were blue, and mom's sanity...

Assuming I live to be eighty, then half my life is behind me. What do I have to show for it? I have made too many mistakes to mention. I have traveled, though not as well as I would have liked. I have partied 'til dawn with rock stars, and been courted by royalty. Some of my best memories were made in the English countryside with an unpretentious girl named Janie May. I hope she was able to help save some of the South American rain forests as she so passionately spoke about over many a pint. As I take inventory of my life up to now, it has been an intricate tapestry colorful and rich with each thread representing friendships, lovers, laughter, loneliness, and heartbreak. I've had a pretty good life so far, so what's next? I want to see the sun rise over the Grand Canyon, and the Northern Lights. I want to sleep in a haunted B&B, and in the Ice Hotel in Sweden. I want to learn to speak French, and then spend a summer in Paris. I want to ride a motorcycle over the Beart...