Blessed

Driving down the highway tonight, I peered off to the left. The lighting was perfect, the sun just dipping below the horizon, leaving the pinks, purples and violets as backdrops to the thousands of lighted homes in the valley. The cars around me worked in concert to avoid the more than occasional road hazard. The pedestrians taking the chance again of crossing the highway so as to avoid a much longer, maybe even uncharted, but safer route seemed to be soothed by this lighting as well. There's that moment - it doesn't happen every day...sometimes we don't notice it for months on end during our rushed lives. But, every once in a very great while, there's that perfect light...that airy breath of a breeze...that amazing hum of the world around us that reminds us of the miracles, the blessings, we are granted daily.

Too much or too little

As I look around, I see a lack of moderation pervading our world.

Today, for instance, I am sitting outside the hotel in Goiania. The room leaves a bit to be desired when it comes to Comfort...ironic because I am staying at the Comfort Suites Flamboyant which would not credibly be described by any of those words. Too little.

The man just to my left is, at once, too much and too little. His body hair - too much...I know shag is the fad, but damn. His bathing suit - too little (but looks to be JUST the right size to cover his goods).

I've been working too much and playing too little. Let's fix that.

But seriously...TOO much back hair surrounding this pool.

Pants on Fire

I lie to myself. It's true. Today, for instance, I'm lying about my eyes. They are clearly watering... irritated by something I can't quite identify. In truth, I know, it's probably the pollen which has overwhelmed Atlanta. Others have suffered miserably for years because of the yellow swarm, but I am a native. I grew up with this stuff and I proudly pronounce, "it doesn't bother me". I presume it is much like a person who lives in higher elevations meeting others who aren't used to the thinner air. I have never been "weak" when it comes to living here and I'm not quite ready to admit that I might be succumbing to pollen's power.

So, for now, I do not have allergies...

I also lie about my ability to enjoy late nights and function well the next morning. There were times in my life a couple of hours of sleep would suffice and I'd start again. This is no longer the case - honestly - though, I am not yet ready to admit this either.

For now, I'm still young enough...

I also tend to believe I keep up with relationships. Sadly, I could be mistaken here. I believe that my friends know I am thinking of them often and mean to speak with them just as often. I think they know I want nothing more than to spend more time visiting, working in their yards, traveling and laughing with them. But, I let other items get in the way...I guess I am ready to admit I'm not the best at maintaining relationships.

Now, I'll work on it.

Hold onto yer butts!

From time to time, I find myself thinking of making a dramatic life change. And, no, it's not a midlife thing (frankly, I've always thought it presumptive to think that 40 is "midlife" - no one knows what will happen tomorrow).

No, it is more because, as I live day to day, I find that my life goals change. When I was 20 (young, dumb and newly married), I wanted 6 kids and I wanted them as soon as possible. True, at this point in life, they'd all be almost grown, but I think my lifespan might well have been decreased by decades too. From 25 to 30, I still thought I wanted the big house and the white picket fence...now, I feel like simplifying.

But, a couple of years ago, my best friend gave me a little plaque that says, "this life is not a dress rehearsal" and, it is a great reminder every day. With my friend making a move of her own (inadvertently changing my life too), I'm ready to chase a dream. Fasten your seat belts.

Advertising genius...

One day, not too long ago (ok, it was probably over a year ago, but time is relative after all), I was driving to Zuffy's Place (my favorite sports bar). As I neared the turn and slowed to a stop for the light, I saw the most clever sign. In fact, not only clever, but I knew from the time I read it that the owner of this car wash was brilliant.

You see, it's not the best part of town - not the worst. And, frankly, no one would say this location was the best, but the people who live in the area are a mix between the very hard-working blue collar types and the yuppies just past their party primes. I figured the car wash would have a set of usual customers having their cars cleaned on payday for a date night and this sign was a way to invite the higher-browed locals too.

See, here's the thing... the sign read simply:

"Carpe Shampoo"

And, then, I realized, it was probably not a clever invite, but a slip of a letter and I turned right.

And so this is Christmas...

As I sit snuggled on the couch, feet toasty in an early present to myself, I watch the opulence of the final shopping day of the season on the Today Show and I reflect on how hard it must be for my good friend who lost her father yesterday.

So, rather than reflecting on the lights, the rush and the pretty presents, I'm thinking about Shannon's loss and the gift she had. Shannon shared her father's birthday - it was probably the earliest sign of how close they would be throughout her life. And, whether it was due to their shared sign or just their blood, they also had matching personalities. Dad Goodman was smart, intensely protective of his loved ones, deeply caring but quiet with regard to those feelings and he loved the freedom of his motorcycle.

Not many people get to know her at this level (she is her father's daughter, after all), so while listening to Shannon's tears, the story of her loss and the true sense of being lost over the phone, I want to be there to provide a shoulder, an ear - whatever she needs - all the while knowing nothing can make this better.

Yesterday, Shannon lost her best friend. And, now, I understand the meaning of a Blue Christmas.

The best Christmas EVER

I think most of us have a special holiday memory - one that, should no other holiday stand out, will forever be THE memory. For me, this memory is Christmas of '81.

You see, every year, my family would drive to Oak Ridge, Tennessee to spend Christmas with Aunt Kathy and Uncle Lou. Grandma was there each year too... and since 1976, my aunt and uncle added a new face to the family every two and a half years (they stopped after 81).

As we arrived, the most amazing sight was the glimmer of the bubble lights on Aunt Kathy's tree. (I put them on my tree to this day). Each Christmas Eve, we would turn off the room lights, sit in front of the fireplace with hot drinks, talk about our Christmas wishes and stare at the beauty that was the Christmas tree. Then, each of us kids was directed to our respective beds.

In 1981, though, because the number of kids was growing and the number of rooms was not, I was set to sleep in the formal living room - which overlooked the downstairs. Aunt Kathy came around to tuck us all in bed and I drifted off to sleep with the sounds of my parents, Aunt and Uncle still talking over the soft music downstairs.

I awoke to a room lit only by the stars outside the front window and a sound I KNEW was Santa. I rubbed the sand from my eyes and crept to look down at the tree. And that is when it happened. Innocence was lost. I spied Uncle Lou playing with a game that only Santa was to setup. The toys Santa left each year were the only ones not wrapped when we gathered in the morning and Uncle Lou was putting mine together! After a few moments of taking it all in, I slipped back to the couch and went back to sleep.

Please understand, it was a bittersweet moment. I had reached the age that I was fairly certain about Santa's existence or lack thereof and now I had my proof. However, there was a joy I saw in my Uncle that night...a smile that I have since learned is rarely seen outside of my presence. It is a smile I will always remember and a moment I cherish.