I said something stupid today.
David told me that the pay raise he was getting...which was really going to help out immensely, is not happening. All part of the pay freeze that our dear President told his Federal employees to sacrifice.
Yesterday, in my neighborhood, a man, a father of two boys, and a husband, was distraught. There were some ongoing domestic issues going on for a while, culminating with him having a standoff at his home with police. He went into the woods behind his home, and shot himself.
I was angry today. I was really pissed off at this latest setback in a life already set back. I said that I understood someone wanting to go into the woods and put a bullet into their head.
I should not have said that. I would never understand that kind of pain. I will never know it.
I am sorry that those words were uttered. I feel shame for having them move across my lips, and sending them out into the air.
Right now, a family is in pain. The kind of pain that I never want to know.
That was a stupid thing to say.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Stretch
Worries today: David. My girls. One of my kids dying. Money. No bills in the mailbox the last two visits. Job in Middle East on hold due to government cuts. Overheating car. My parents ages. Drinking too much wine last night. Money. My weight. My grey hair. Olivia talking to her friends on the bus about "making out"...ugh...The little bit of gas left in the car. David's car. Our mortgage. The two friends that I have been meaning and wanting to call back, tick tick tick...Just finding out those poor girls in Connecticut involved in that home invasion were burned alive. Wanting stronger locks. My heating system...it just keeps going and going. My inability to write the story I want. Hoping that the hospital here will call me back after receiving my resume. The evil force in California, and all that it entails. Will we have a snow storm and will the power fail. Money. My friend having a hard time in her marriage. The small black speck on Molly's tooth. My dishwasher. My lack of owning paper photos.
So far today: Woke up at four thirty for the day. Finally got in bed with Olivia at six thirty, and we just laid there. I held her. She melted into me. We stuck our legs in the air, and compared knees, and ankles. Her legs are mine. Just a smaller version. We stretched our calves, and pointed our toes. She giggled so hard. I am always Mom. Mom with a job to do. Mom going somewhere. Mom mad about something. Mom cooking. Mom yelling. Mom cleaning. Never putting my feet up in the air. Never getting under the covers, and enjoying the quiet before the day begins.
I woke Charlotte up, and stroked her small, tiny arm. She got goosebumps. She sat up in bed, and sleepily, smiled at me, without saying a word. She just looked at me and smiled. Not just with her mouth. Her eyes too. We just stood still for a moment.
I had a friend over for coffee yesterday who finally told me her whole story. She was given up for adoption by her mother, when they still lived in her native Honduras. After 13 years, her mother surfaced, and asked her to come visit her, in the US. Her parents, the only parents she had ever known, who beat her her whole life, said the only way she could visit was if it was for good. They would send her, from the hut she lived in, with no running water, and a bucket to use as a toilet, if they were repaid every penny they ever spent on her.
Her mother purchased her, and she went to live with her and her equally cocaine addicted boyfriend in Queens. Their reuniting would be brief. She was on her own at the age of 16. When she was 18, her mother had another baby. A boy. She quickly went back to using drugs soon after the baby was born. My friend got a call one night. It was her mother. She asked her to come over. She needed her. She went to her, and listened to her problems, in the middle of the night. She said that she finally got her mother to sleep, and the baby awoke. He was three months old. She said she remembered feeding him, and changing his diaper. She held him until he went back to sleep.
Her mother awoke in the morning and said she was going to take him to Saint Anthony's church, in the village, that day. She had named him after Saint Anthony. My friend said goodbye. Instead of going to church, her mother jumped in front of a train, holding Anthony. He was killed. Her mother was not.
She still goes and visits her mother, in a nursing home, on Staten Island. She goes there a few times a year. She is a bigger person than I. We spoke of worries, and I talked about just a few of mine. She said she doesn't worry about a thing. Nothing small. She doesn't let money problems upset her. She can"t be worried about the crack in her windshield right now. She didn't get that angry when her son burned their family home to the ground a few years ago.
She said that it's useless to sweat the small stuff. It is what it is, and next year, you will be worried about something else.
I think I might have some more morning leg stretches.
So far today: Woke up at four thirty for the day. Finally got in bed with Olivia at six thirty, and we just laid there. I held her. She melted into me. We stuck our legs in the air, and compared knees, and ankles. Her legs are mine. Just a smaller version. We stretched our calves, and pointed our toes. She giggled so hard. I am always Mom. Mom with a job to do. Mom going somewhere. Mom mad about something. Mom cooking. Mom yelling. Mom cleaning. Never putting my feet up in the air. Never getting under the covers, and enjoying the quiet before the day begins.
I woke Charlotte up, and stroked her small, tiny arm. She got goosebumps. She sat up in bed, and sleepily, smiled at me, without saying a word. She just looked at me and smiled. Not just with her mouth. Her eyes too. We just stood still for a moment.
I had a friend over for coffee yesterday who finally told me her whole story. She was given up for adoption by her mother, when they still lived in her native Honduras. After 13 years, her mother surfaced, and asked her to come visit her, in the US. Her parents, the only parents she had ever known, who beat her her whole life, said the only way she could visit was if it was for good. They would send her, from the hut she lived in, with no running water, and a bucket to use as a toilet, if they were repaid every penny they ever spent on her.
Her mother purchased her, and she went to live with her and her equally cocaine addicted boyfriend in Queens. Their reuniting would be brief. She was on her own at the age of 16. When she was 18, her mother had another baby. A boy. She quickly went back to using drugs soon after the baby was born. My friend got a call one night. It was her mother. She asked her to come over. She needed her. She went to her, and listened to her problems, in the middle of the night. She said that she finally got her mother to sleep, and the baby awoke. He was three months old. She said she remembered feeding him, and changing his diaper. She held him until he went back to sleep.
Her mother awoke in the morning and said she was going to take him to Saint Anthony's church, in the village, that day. She had named him after Saint Anthony. My friend said goodbye. Instead of going to church, her mother jumped in front of a train, holding Anthony. He was killed. Her mother was not.
She still goes and visits her mother, in a nursing home, on Staten Island. She goes there a few times a year. She is a bigger person than I. We spoke of worries, and I talked about just a few of mine. She said she doesn't worry about a thing. Nothing small. She doesn't let money problems upset her. She can"t be worried about the crack in her windshield right now. She didn't get that angry when her son burned their family home to the ground a few years ago.
She said that it's useless to sweat the small stuff. It is what it is, and next year, you will be worried about something else.
I think I might have some more morning leg stretches.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Stranger
Unsure if the optimistic, hyperactive, feeling that I am experiencing, is due to two cups of coffee, or if the manic portion of my self diagnosed bipolar disorder is setting in. Whatever it may be, I feel like a giant. Like a rock among tiny grains of sand.
I woke up when David came in to say his morning goodbye to me, before leaving for work. I can always tell when something is bothering him. All he said was goodbye, and it was dark in the room, so I could not see his face, but I just knew. I got out of bed, and followed him to the kitchen.
I think I do a lot of written worrying here about just a few topics in our life, but I never tell the whole story. I never really flesh it all out. If I did, I would accomplish nothing other than being seated hours on end here at my computer, writing and writing, page after page...growing more and more enraged.
My husband has a pain that I will never be able to soothe. I wish that there was a salve, or a potion to relieve him of this constant heartache. I wish I could make it all go away. I want to shake somebody who I have never met, and spit on them. I do. That sounds so terrible. So awful. I hurt just saying it.
I am tired of seeing that look in David's eyes. I am tired of seeing his already pronounced brow, furrowing further and further down upon his eyes. I am saddened by the anger in his eyes, and the sadness in his voice.
We stood in the kitchen, and there it was. The painful problem, with no sane solution. No real beginning. No end in sight.
Have a good day, I said.
What else is left to say?
Today, feeling as strong and as powerful as I do, I am thankful that a country separates me, and this stranger.
I woke up when David came in to say his morning goodbye to me, before leaving for work. I can always tell when something is bothering him. All he said was goodbye, and it was dark in the room, so I could not see his face, but I just knew. I got out of bed, and followed him to the kitchen.
I think I do a lot of written worrying here about just a few topics in our life, but I never tell the whole story. I never really flesh it all out. If I did, I would accomplish nothing other than being seated hours on end here at my computer, writing and writing, page after page...growing more and more enraged.
My husband has a pain that I will never be able to soothe. I wish that there was a salve, or a potion to relieve him of this constant heartache. I wish I could make it all go away. I want to shake somebody who I have never met, and spit on them. I do. That sounds so terrible. So awful. I hurt just saying it.
I am tired of seeing that look in David's eyes. I am tired of seeing his already pronounced brow, furrowing further and further down upon his eyes. I am saddened by the anger in his eyes, and the sadness in his voice.
We stood in the kitchen, and there it was. The painful problem, with no sane solution. No real beginning. No end in sight.
Have a good day, I said.
What else is left to say?
Today, feeling as strong and as powerful as I do, I am thankful that a country separates me, and this stranger.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Ready
Hello Monday.
Back to the grind. I welcome it. Christmas and New Years wrapped up and put away for another year. This holiday season was the best. I loved every minute of it. I put stress away for over a week. So did David. We just relaxed, and watched the girls soak in every bit of it. We didn't get in one fight! Today is Monday, and I woke up feeling renewed. The girls are now at school, and the house is back in order, and every last light, and sparkle has been removed.
In the past, I normally felt sad that it was all over. This year, not so much. I feel like I have lots of little projects planned for myself, and that the winter will move quicker than we think, as it always does, so I am already dreaming about Spring, and stringing lights outside, and hanging a candle chandelier from a particulary strong, and well placed limb, that extends right over my "conversation area" on our deck.
This could be our last Spring/Summer season here. I want to make it really nice. I think that if I change the way I think, meaning, maybe go into all the changes that I believe are on the horizon, in a positive, embracing, way, than only good things can happen. I have always been a glass half empty person, my whole life. I am tired of that. I am tired of creditors, and banks, telling me how my life is going to go. To them, I say, those days are over.
Growing up is scary. I feel like I should be grown up already. But it is still happening. Each day. Some days, I feel like someone is going to knock on my door, and tell me that there has been a mistake. The children are going with them. I am simply too immature, and not together enough to be in charge of them. In my mind, some days, I feel like I am still 17.
I remember, a few weeks before my grandmother died, many of us went to visit her, as my Aunt had called us there, in fear that she was not going to be here that much longer. I loved my Dad's mother. She was from Ireland, and even though she had lived more years on US soil than she had in Ireland, her brogue was very heavy. She had pretty blue eyes, and they appeared larger than their actual size, due to the thick lenses on her glasses. They were sweet, and tender looking.
My cousin Jennifer and I were lying on her bed, and she was telling us about meeting our grandfather, and how nervous she was getting married, and about her wedding night. It was amazing to hear such personal information from her. I remember her saying how she was shocked at how quickly the years just go. She said she looks in the mirror, and there she sees the face of an old woman. Yet inside, she still feels 17. She still feels like a young girl. She died a few weeks later. It was really a moment that we shared with her, that I cherish. I wish she could have met my family.
It still amazes me that she felt like that. That inside of my old grandmother, was a young, giggly girl. I guess we all feel like that at times. Some days I feel out of touch with that young girl. Some days, I want to curl up in the fetal position, and show everyone that I still am that young girl, and please, would somebody just make everything better already!
Today, I feel somewhere between 17 and 39. Not quite young, but definitely not old. I feel ready. Ready for change. And maybe, just maybe, the Welcome mat will be rolled out for it.
Back to the grind. I welcome it. Christmas and New Years wrapped up and put away for another year. This holiday season was the best. I loved every minute of it. I put stress away for over a week. So did David. We just relaxed, and watched the girls soak in every bit of it. We didn't get in one fight! Today is Monday, and I woke up feeling renewed. The girls are now at school, and the house is back in order, and every last light, and sparkle has been removed.
In the past, I normally felt sad that it was all over. This year, not so much. I feel like I have lots of little projects planned for myself, and that the winter will move quicker than we think, as it always does, so I am already dreaming about Spring, and stringing lights outside, and hanging a candle chandelier from a particulary strong, and well placed limb, that extends right over my "conversation area" on our deck.
This could be our last Spring/Summer season here. I want to make it really nice. I think that if I change the way I think, meaning, maybe go into all the changes that I believe are on the horizon, in a positive, embracing, way, than only good things can happen. I have always been a glass half empty person, my whole life. I am tired of that. I am tired of creditors, and banks, telling me how my life is going to go. To them, I say, those days are over.
Growing up is scary. I feel like I should be grown up already. But it is still happening. Each day. Some days, I feel like someone is going to knock on my door, and tell me that there has been a mistake. The children are going with them. I am simply too immature, and not together enough to be in charge of them. In my mind, some days, I feel like I am still 17.
I remember, a few weeks before my grandmother died, many of us went to visit her, as my Aunt had called us there, in fear that she was not going to be here that much longer. I loved my Dad's mother. She was from Ireland, and even though she had lived more years on US soil than she had in Ireland, her brogue was very heavy. She had pretty blue eyes, and they appeared larger than their actual size, due to the thick lenses on her glasses. They were sweet, and tender looking.
My cousin Jennifer and I were lying on her bed, and she was telling us about meeting our grandfather, and how nervous she was getting married, and about her wedding night. It was amazing to hear such personal information from her. I remember her saying how she was shocked at how quickly the years just go. She said she looks in the mirror, and there she sees the face of an old woman. Yet inside, she still feels 17. She still feels like a young girl. She died a few weeks later. It was really a moment that we shared with her, that I cherish. I wish she could have met my family.
It still amazes me that she felt like that. That inside of my old grandmother, was a young, giggly girl. I guess we all feel like that at times. Some days I feel out of touch with that young girl. Some days, I want to curl up in the fetal position, and show everyone that I still am that young girl, and please, would somebody just make everything better already!
Today, I feel somewhere between 17 and 39. Not quite young, but definitely not old. I feel ready. Ready for change. And maybe, just maybe, the Welcome mat will be rolled out for it.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Blink
Life is funny.
You plan. You get where you think you should be going. You get comfortable. You want more. You never really enjoy where you are. You are too concerned with where you are going. And once you get there, that place is never enjoyed. At least that is how I feel.
This year, I would like to forget about tomorrow. I want to really enjoy where I am, right here, and now. Because that is where I need to be. I was listening to my girls giggling the other day, and I realized that before I know it, those giggles will be gone, and I will just want to blink my eyes, and go back to this very moment, if only for an instant.
And here I am.
In it.
Right where I need to be.
You plan. You get where you think you should be going. You get comfortable. You want more. You never really enjoy where you are. You are too concerned with where you are going. And once you get there, that place is never enjoyed. At least that is how I feel.
This year, I would like to forget about tomorrow. I want to really enjoy where I am, right here, and now. Because that is where I need to be. I was listening to my girls giggling the other day, and I realized that before I know it, those giggles will be gone, and I will just want to blink my eyes, and go back to this very moment, if only for an instant.
And here I am.
In it.
Right where I need to be.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Path
The New Years of 1999, I left town. I was working at Chloe, making buttloads of money. The Y2K rumors were running rampant. I recall being told that Shea Stadium was being filled with EMT vehicles, and body bags, as mass pandemonium was about to break out, due to massive system failures around the world. No one knew how to fix the dates on computers, so this was going to somehow result in mass casualties. (Never understood that.) I even saw a woman on the news advising us to all get a Y2K survival kit together. Water, and canned goods. Batteries. A radio. I didn't understand why we would need all these items. All I knew was I wanted to party down, and I was going to do it outside of the New York City limits.
I headed to Southampton with my friend Josh, and we went to stay with my partner in crime, at the time, Lilee. Wild girl. Still is. She grew up a blue blood, with tons of old money. Filled with private school education, and years of horse jumping, yet she could drink and swear like a sailor. Loved her. Still do.
We went out to dinner, my treat, to a restaurant on Main Street called 75 Main. It was a hangout of mine. We had a 7 course meal, complete with wines to match each course. We also had a few bottles of champagne. At midnight, we went to Agawam Park. It is a beautiful little park, right on a lake, that is right next to the ocean. They were setting off fireworks. It was freezing out. I had on skinny black cigarette pants, and a tiny black sleeveless camisole. I topped that with a vintage pink, long Indian coat, with heavy gold embroidery running through it on the front and back. I had on Sergio Rossi black mules, with feathers on them. I looked like a million bucks, but I was so cold, and didn't care, even a little. Drunk from wine, and champagne, and watching the beautiful fireworks that cold winters night was so exciting. I felt young, and free, and inside, delighted at what the upcoming decade would bring. Going from 1989 to 1999 had been a decade of amazing things for me. Change, and growth. I could not imagine what the next decade would have in store for me.
The past decade brought me the love of my life. A man so dedicated to my well being, as much as his own, that I still pinch myself. I had three children. Me. I did. I carried three babies inside of my body, and here they are. Evidence of us being here, on the earth. I look at all of them, and I see myself and David, staring back at us. It still astounds me. We moved and started a life in a place where we didn't know anyone. We have known struggle, and fright. Sadness, and despair. But we have had moments of happiness I never knew possible.
We say a family prayer each night before we eat dinner. I still listen to my girls reciting it, with their hands together, fingers clasped, and delight in what has happened to me in these ten years. These living, breathing, creatures, that are little droplets of our love.
And with both fright, and hesitation, I cannot imagine what we are now headed into. We are being forced off our path. But we are about to cut a new one, and I cannot wait to see what is around the bend.
I love you David, and Olivia, and Charlotte, and Molly.
Happy New Year.
I headed to Southampton with my friend Josh, and we went to stay with my partner in crime, at the time, Lilee. Wild girl. Still is. She grew up a blue blood, with tons of old money. Filled with private school education, and years of horse jumping, yet she could drink and swear like a sailor. Loved her. Still do.
We went out to dinner, my treat, to a restaurant on Main Street called 75 Main. It was a hangout of mine. We had a 7 course meal, complete with wines to match each course. We also had a few bottles of champagne. At midnight, we went to Agawam Park. It is a beautiful little park, right on a lake, that is right next to the ocean. They were setting off fireworks. It was freezing out. I had on skinny black cigarette pants, and a tiny black sleeveless camisole. I topped that with a vintage pink, long Indian coat, with heavy gold embroidery running through it on the front and back. I had on Sergio Rossi black mules, with feathers on them. I looked like a million bucks, but I was so cold, and didn't care, even a little. Drunk from wine, and champagne, and watching the beautiful fireworks that cold winters night was so exciting. I felt young, and free, and inside, delighted at what the upcoming decade would bring. Going from 1989 to 1999 had been a decade of amazing things for me. Change, and growth. I could not imagine what the next decade would have in store for me.
The past decade brought me the love of my life. A man so dedicated to my well being, as much as his own, that I still pinch myself. I had three children. Me. I did. I carried three babies inside of my body, and here they are. Evidence of us being here, on the earth. I look at all of them, and I see myself and David, staring back at us. It still astounds me. We moved and started a life in a place where we didn't know anyone. We have known struggle, and fright. Sadness, and despair. But we have had moments of happiness I never knew possible.
We say a family prayer each night before we eat dinner. I still listen to my girls reciting it, with their hands together, fingers clasped, and delight in what has happened to me in these ten years. These living, breathing, creatures, that are little droplets of our love.
And with both fright, and hesitation, I cannot imagine what we are now headed into. We are being forced off our path. But we are about to cut a new one, and I cannot wait to see what is around the bend.
I love you David, and Olivia, and Charlotte, and Molly.
Happy New Year.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Chives
Christmas of 2010, put into the record books. I have to say, it was one of my best, if not, the best. I went into it filled with dread, and what unfolded before me was sheer bliss. I felt that the last week was like looking into a snow globe. It swirled, and sparkled, and reflected light in a most mesmerizing way. It was beautiful. From start to finish. I loved it.
The days after Christmas have always been a bit anti-climactic for me. All the rush, and excitement, and then it is over. I just went into my refrigerator and found a package of chives. In my head, I cursed, and thought that really sucks. I was supposed to mince the chives finely, and sprinkle them on top of the goat cheese scalloped potatoes that I made. I went out of my way to get these chives. Silly, I know. No one knows. It didn't ruin the meal. The meal was actually really good. Except maybe my potatoes would have been just that much better with chives garnishing them.
And, we weren't wearing silly paper crowns. The kind you get in Christmas crackers. I looked all over for them too. There were none to be found. I thought that would really complete the Christmas picture I had in my mind.
I got a few of those Christmas moments though. We went to church on Christmas Eve. It was packed, and due to my compulsion to always be on time for everything in life, we were twenty minutes early. We got a great seat. I was super excited that we did. On the alter, was a whole stable set up. The service began, and it was just as I had imagined it would be. Mary and Joseph, and Shepard's, and wise men. Children playing animals. They even had a real newborn baby. And the baby was asleep! It was magical.
And then they turned out the lights, and came down the aisles, and lit small candles for everyone to hold. We let the girls hold them. The entire church began to sing Silent Night. It was a moment so powerful for me. I looked down, and saw my little girls faces aglow from the small candles they were holding, and I thought to myself, this is it! This is Christmas! Roll the credits now, and let the snow flakes begin to flutter down outside right now! It was everything I had ever envisioned. My beautiful family, my husband with tears in his eyes. It was perfect. I couldn't have asked for more.
We got home, and we had decided to just have frozen pizza for Christmas Eve dinner, as it was quick and easy, and I was cooking a "picture perfect" meal the next day. The pies were small, so I put three of them in the oven. When they were done, I took out the cheese pie successfully. As I reached in with the spatula, the pepperoni pie became a little wobbly. I thought I had it, but it fell, face down, on the hot inside door of the opened oven. Cheese, and pepperoni oozed everywhere. David happened to be standing there watching the whole thing. It was like it was in slow motion. I couldn't believe my eyes. This was not what I had envisioned for Christmas Eve. Cheese began to burn, and smoke. It was a mess.
But the funny thing was, that after David and I cleaned the whole thing up, and got everyone fed, and continued on with my picture perfect Christmas, complete with the building and decorating of a Gingerbread house (although, I forgot to serve them hot cocoa in their Christmas mugs) the moment that the girls thought was the best from Christmas Eve, was when "Mom exploded the pizza".
So, today, that is where I will leave it. Our life is so far from the picture perfect image in my head. Sometimes, it looks more like a connect the dots. But it is really great. And each day, I am trying to focus on the beauty of what I see, as opposed to what sucks.
Who needs chives anyway?
The days after Christmas have always been a bit anti-climactic for me. All the rush, and excitement, and then it is over. I just went into my refrigerator and found a package of chives. In my head, I cursed, and thought that really sucks. I was supposed to mince the chives finely, and sprinkle them on top of the goat cheese scalloped potatoes that I made. I went out of my way to get these chives. Silly, I know. No one knows. It didn't ruin the meal. The meal was actually really good. Except maybe my potatoes would have been just that much better with chives garnishing them.
And, we weren't wearing silly paper crowns. The kind you get in Christmas crackers. I looked all over for them too. There were none to be found. I thought that would really complete the Christmas picture I had in my mind.
I got a few of those Christmas moments though. We went to church on Christmas Eve. It was packed, and due to my compulsion to always be on time for everything in life, we were twenty minutes early. We got a great seat. I was super excited that we did. On the alter, was a whole stable set up. The service began, and it was just as I had imagined it would be. Mary and Joseph, and Shepard's, and wise men. Children playing animals. They even had a real newborn baby. And the baby was asleep! It was magical.
And then they turned out the lights, and came down the aisles, and lit small candles for everyone to hold. We let the girls hold them. The entire church began to sing Silent Night. It was a moment so powerful for me. I looked down, and saw my little girls faces aglow from the small candles they were holding, and I thought to myself, this is it! This is Christmas! Roll the credits now, and let the snow flakes begin to flutter down outside right now! It was everything I had ever envisioned. My beautiful family, my husband with tears in his eyes. It was perfect. I couldn't have asked for more.
We got home, and we had decided to just have frozen pizza for Christmas Eve dinner, as it was quick and easy, and I was cooking a "picture perfect" meal the next day. The pies were small, so I put three of them in the oven. When they were done, I took out the cheese pie successfully. As I reached in with the spatula, the pepperoni pie became a little wobbly. I thought I had it, but it fell, face down, on the hot inside door of the opened oven. Cheese, and pepperoni oozed everywhere. David happened to be standing there watching the whole thing. It was like it was in slow motion. I couldn't believe my eyes. This was not what I had envisioned for Christmas Eve. Cheese began to burn, and smoke. It was a mess.
But the funny thing was, that after David and I cleaned the whole thing up, and got everyone fed, and continued on with my picture perfect Christmas, complete with the building and decorating of a Gingerbread house (although, I forgot to serve them hot cocoa in their Christmas mugs) the moment that the girls thought was the best from Christmas Eve, was when "Mom exploded the pizza".
So, today, that is where I will leave it. Our life is so far from the picture perfect image in my head. Sometimes, it looks more like a connect the dots. But it is really great. And each day, I am trying to focus on the beauty of what I see, as opposed to what sucks.
Who needs chives anyway?
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