An open letter to my son on his first day of Kindergarten

September 12, 2016

Dear Will,

Today is your first day of Kindergarten. You are smiling and amped up, but I know you. I know that's anxious energy pulsing through you this morning.

I ask if you are excited, and you say yes, but I hear the catch in your voice. I know there is a big part of you that wishes you were spending another year where it's comfortable, where you know what to expect, where you're the Big Man on Campus.

I understand this, Boo. Change is hard. It will continue to be hard, even when you're 6. Even when you're 16. Even when you're 36. And, I imagine, even when you're 66.

When you are older, I will tell you how I lied awake, tossing and turning, the night before starting school or a new job. I will tell you how I ate lunch in my car the entire first week of a new gig because I didn't know where else to go. How I skipped parties and happy hours and events because I didn't know anyone else. I will tell you how I cried on the way home from work, in my office, during a conference call, in a meeting. How I quit a job after two weeks and went back to the place where I felt comfortable. How I resisted change time & time again, even when I knew it was inevitable. I will tell you those things later.

But today, I will tell you that I understand.

I know you need to observe a situation before making a move. I understand.
I know you like to be alone and sometimes need space. I understand.
I know you don't take friendship lightly, and it can take you time to make friends. I understand.
I know that you don't always want to talk about things with me because that makes them feel too real. I understand.
I know you are a brave, independent, wacky, bold, sensitive spirit who needs to do things in his own time, in his own way. I understand.

When you are older, I will tell you how I traveled and adventured and jumped off high things and took risks and faced my insecurities and learned lessons and saw the world and made a difference and made mistakes and swallowed my fears and swallowed my pride and took chances and took giant leaps of faith and fell down and got up again and loved deeply and hurt deeply and changed and changed and changed again. One day, I will tell you those things. And you'll understand.

But for today, I will tell you this. You are brave, you are bold, you are loved.

Go get 'em, kid.

Love,
Mommy

"Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid." 

How old do you have to be to....?

My kid turned five earlier this month. He is utterly and thoroughly delighted at becoming another year older.

He is constantly asking, "How old do you have to be to [insert something awesome here]?"

Or he'll say, "Can 5 year-olds [insert something rad here]?"

He is completely bought into the idea that each year older means more opportunity, more fun, and generally, more awesomeness.

If only this was the case for all of us.

I am approaching a milestone birthday this year as well, and while I love Birthday Fun Week and all of the fanfare that goes along with a big birthday, I've still been feeling kind of blah about it. But then, suddenly, last weekend, a few things occurred to me.

• Would I really want to be, say, 30 years old again? Nope.
• Are there amazing things I can do now that I couldn't do at 22...or 28...or even 35? Absolutely. 
• Could it really be true that, even at my age, each year older might mean more awesomeness? Hmm. I think I'm on to something here. 

And so, here is a list of some (not all) of the awesome things you can do because you are (almost) 40.

1. You know a little something about wine, you don't choose (usually) based on pretty labels, and you can afford the bottles you want to drink.
2. You embrace change and know that, even when it's scary, charting new courses is a part of finding success. 
3. You know and value your true friends, and you make time for each other. 
4. But you also know that you do not have to be friends with anyone who isn't bringing positivity to your life. 
5. You can eat bacon any time you want.
6. You know that life is short, and taking risks is necessary to take full advantage of the time we have here. 
7. But you also know that life is long, and it's best to surround yourself with the people that make you the happiest. 
8. You are brave. And not the silly, blind braveness of your '20s. The strong, confident, I can-kick-the-shit-out-of-life kind of brave that changes lives. 
9. You can buy the shoes or the handbag or the diamond earrings for no special reason at all. 
10. You decide what looks good on you, rock whatever you want, and show off whatever body part you choose simply because it makes you feel good.
11. You can say no.
12. You make pain-free sacrifices for your family because what makes them happy makes you happy.
13. You can be wrong, say you're sorry, admit your faults. And then you learn from it and move on. 
14. You take long weekends with your partner or your girlfriends and go big in a way you never would have dreamed when you were in your '20s. 
15. You make good choices, you make bad choices, you make miracles, you make missteps, you make great things happen, you make massive mistakes, but always, you own it all. 

One thing to note: Can 40 year-olds drink like they did in their '20s without any repercussions? Unfortunately, this is is a no. 

However, can 40 year-olds look ahead to another decade that just keeps getting more awesome? Absolutely yes.

I'll take that trade-off. 

My Year in Review - 2015

Because Facebook just doesn't seem to tell the whole story, it's time for my annual no-filters, totally self-centered reflection on the year past. In no particular order, here's a look back at the somewhat bittersweet year of a full time social media manager, a full time mommy, and a full time part time party girl.

1. Successfully made it to Boo's 4th birthday, Tim's 45th birthday, and my 39th birthday, all of which were celebrated with over the top Birthday Fun Weeks.
2. Completed - with zero cheats - the Whole 30 in January, a 30 day detox that cut out sugar, dairy, grains, alcohol & legumes. I felt amazing .
3. Consumed all of the sugar, dairy, grains, alcohol and legumes in the greater Seattle area in December. I felt feel un-amazing.
4. Participated in and blogged about the Complaint Project & realized how much of an impact our words & outlook really have on ourselves...and each other.
5. Struggled with a pretty serious case of summertime ennui resulting in bad choices & self-destructive behavior which, let's be honest, trickled into the fall too.
6. Made the long, adults-only, weekend cool again and travelled to New Orleans, Vegas, Vancouver, and Sonoma & loved every second of my kid-free holidays.
7. Took our first family vacation in 2 years to Kauai and relished every second of a peaceful, relaxing and totally family-friendly holiday.
8. Felt enormously grateful to have the flexibility & the means to prioritize travel.
9. Got with the program and stopped double-spacing after periods. (I'm a writer, people, this something worthwhile to note.)
10. Swelled with pride, emotion and hysterical laughter as I watched my kid grow & become his own hilarious, intelligent, quirky, independent little weirdo.
11. Seethed with irritation, impatience and frustration at my stubborn, bratty, ungrateful little monster.
12. Ran. And ran. And ran. And then I ran my first half marathon, beating my goal by 17 minutes
    
    and my stretch goal by 2 minutes. And finally felt like I could call myself an athlete.
13. Haven't run more than 5 miles at at time since then.
14. Was consistently consumed by thoughts of work. First, unhappiness and unfullfillment. Then, struggles with Imposter Syndrome and self-doubt. Slowly, not only acceptance of myself and my role, but a total embrace of where I am in my career. And finally, pride in my accomplishments & total excitement of what's to come.
15. Did not appreicate my husband enough for the amazing man that he is & everything he does for me and our family.
16. Drank a lot of wine with my girls. Felt both hungover and yet rejuvenated. 
17. Continued my neverending struggle with balance, still teetertottering from one extreme to the other. 
18. Cried and cried and cried and felt something inside me change when my Aunt Gina, my godmother, died of Lewy Body disease in September. Cried while delivering my reading at the funeral. Cried for a lot of October. And November. And December too. 
19. Became totally irritated and frustrated by anything that seems or feels inauthentic, often having trouble hiding my annoyance.
20. Talked about penises, poop and tooting more than I ever could have thought possible.
21. Laughed so much. Hopefully as much as I cried.
22. Felt inspired and empowered during the Grace Hopper Women in Computer Conference in Houston. Realized that I am, in fact, a woman in technology, and that is pretty badass.
23. Marked the 10 year anniversary of Tim's and my relationship & celebrated the fact that, overall, despite the tough times and our challenges, we are still in love. 
24. Took risks, allowed myself to be uncomfortable, stayed up too late, said yes, did things that scared me, spoke my mind, looked like an idiot, and embraced the absurdity of life. 
25. Discovered that even with my ennui, my struggles and my sadness, overall, the life I lead is pretty incredble.  

All I can say is....what's next? 

To Me, You Are Perfect

When I was younger, I used to dream about my Prince Charming, my Mr. Darcy, my one true love. I knew there had to be the perfect man out there that would, swoon, love me just as I am. Romanticized visions of marriage and partnership danced in my head. Even doing the dishes together would be foreplay, I dreamt. Sweet wedded bliss meant a best friend and a lover all at once, no need for anyone else.

And it happened. I have an incredible husband. He loves me for me. Yes, yes, yes. It's everything I thought it could be. (Except for the dishes thing, obviously.) But now, as I get older, I'm understanding something that I didn't before. There is absolutely a need for others. All that time I spent seeking Mr. Right may well have been better spent fostering the relationships that I, stupidly, took for granted. Because who else offers us unconditional acceptance & companionship? Who else loves us just as we are?

Exactly. Our girlfriends. Our friend family. Our urban tribe.

Yes, of course, it makes sense that our focus is usually inward, on our own families, on the partnership that we've created within our own homes. But I will argue that nurturing those female friendships that we've come to depend on is also important. (And this isn't just a way for me to get my husband to agree that I need more Girls Nights Out. I mean, not completely.) They keep us sane, they keep us grounded, they keep us going.

And so today, let's raise a glass to all of the ladies in our lives that make it that much more sparkly. Here's to your hilarity and your drive and your swagger and your beauty and your brilliance. To the way you light up a room as you enter. To your unconditional support even when you disagree with us. Here's to your ability to admit fear & insecurity. Here's to your always knowing the right thing to say. To your bad dancing and mistake-making. To your amazing achievements and unbelievable fortitude. To your companionship and always spot-on advice. To your differing opinions and showing us that there is more than one right way. To your quiet strength and the way you speak up for what you know is right. Here's to always being there for each other. Here's to enduring both sun and rain.

Here's to you, you beautiful sparkling amazing you.

It Was 20 Years Ago Today (Here's to the Class of 1994)

June 12, 1994

With butterflies in my stomach & pink cheeks, I delivered Plymouth-Salem High School's graduation speech to the Class of 1994.  In the middle of it, I did the one thing that I had been

cautioned against doing.  The one thing that could ruin the whole operation.  You guessed it.

I cried.

I cried because, thus far, 1994 had been the best year of my life, and I couldn't imagine how it could ever get better than that.  I cried because my speech spoke of living in the moment & experiencing real & true & raw emotions as you feel them.  I cried because I saw my Mom crying from the third row.  I cried because my Best Friend and I were going to different schools.  I cried because I was an idealist, a poet, a lover of words & emotions, someone who felt everything deeply & personally.  I cried because I was a 17-year old girl.  I cried because I had realized that happiness & sadness are so often two sides of the same coin.  I cried because I just couldn't stop myself.

And now, here we are, 20 years later.

I am no longer an idealist.  Years of education, both personal & academic, have made me into a realist.  And sometimes even a cynicist.  I don't write poetry anymore.  Instead I am a (sometime) blogger who takes her baby to bars.  My Best Friend did go to a different school, and she now lives in a different city.  And she's still my Best Friend.  (Yay, Katie!) I still consider 1994 one of the best years of my life....along with 1995, 1999, 2001, 2006, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2013, and 2014.  It did get better.  And better.  And even better after that.  Living in the moment is a challenge for me. It doesn't come naturally like it did when I was 17.  But I strive to be present, to be where I am when I'm there & drink in all the moments, both good & bad.  I will always be a lover of words & emotions.  But I don't wear my heart on my sleeve any longer.  I have become guarded, someone that holds my cards pretty close.  I prefer to ask questions & learn about others rather than share my own story.  (Although, with a few glasses of wine, I can usually be persuaded to spill.)  I still cry when I see my Mom crying.  But instead of embracing it, I usually try to convince her to stop.
And I still know that happiness & sadness are often two sides of the same coin.  And I think that's why I am crying now.

Hugs & love to the Class of '94.  Twenty years ago, I wished you lives that were experienced through joyful & wondrous eyes.  Today, I wish you another 20 years that just keep getting better.  And better.  And even better after that.

P.S.  Crying never ruins anything.  Except maybe your makeup.

This Is Where We Used To Live

At the end of an episode of Girls, Hanna is dancing on her own in her room when roommate Marnie comes home, finds her, and a roommate/BFF dance party immediately commences.  Which is clearly what would happen in real life.

I loved living alone, and of course, I love living with my family.  But when I think about some of the most fun, most hilarious & most memorable moments of my life, so many of them took place in grungy old apartments shared with some of my best girls.  As roommates, we became almost like sisters, closer & more honest.  When you live in as close of quarters as we did, there isn't a lot of room for anything less.  C'mon, let's go behind the scenes of when girls are roommates!

You will turn up the music really, really loud so you can't hear her fighting with her boyfriend. Even at 1am.  You will come home after work to find that an impromptu keg party has commenced, and they need a fourth for Euchre.  You will share everything:  shampoo, cigarettes, Doritos, secrets, money, toothbrushes, intimate details about your booty calls, clothes, modes of transportation.  If your boyfriend dumps you, she will come home with beer, wine, and ice cream - just because she wanted you to have options.  You will get pissed when she eats all of your leftovers that you were saving specifically for dinner that night.  But you'll forgive her when she pulls out some pot she scored that day.  You will have inside jokes that are so old & so complex, you won't be able to remember how they even got started.  But they will still be hilarious anyway. You will have no qualms about walking around naked in front of each other. You will laugh more than you ever thought possible.  You will make up a choreographed dance at 11pm on a Tuesday just because.  You will hear her having incredibly loud sex on a regular basis. And it won't faze you.  You will be there for each other during the big things, the scary things, the life-changing things. A good Monday night will be watching Lifetime Television for Women together while drinking White Zin and eating tuna noodle casserole. You will refer to you & your roommate as "we" and "us" more than often than you do with your boyfriend.  You will actually be more of a "we" and an "us" than you are with your boyfriend. You will agree on everything.  You will fight about everything.  You will feel sadness when you move out of that dirty little apartment because you'll know that it's the end of something.  But you'll also know that you're more than just friends now.  You're so much more than that.  

Part Time Party Girl

WARNING.  Shocking statement ahead.

It appears that I may not be able to party the way I could when I was 24.  I know, GASP, right?  In fact, I am actually thinking that it might be time to retire the "Full Time Party Girl" from my self-description.  Or, at the very least, amend it to "Part Time (As Long As There Is Ample Recovery Time) Party Girl".

Honestly, usually, these days, I'm quite happy with going part time.  Content with the much quieter lifestyle I've created.  Early to bed and clarity of mind and all that.

Usually.  Because even though green smoothies and detox tea are terrific for breakfast almost every morning, sometimes you just really need want bacon and a Bloody Mary as big as your head.  Sometimes it's necessary okay to revert back to your full time party person status.  Sometimes, very rarely, but sometimes, you might even need to pull a double.  (Or a triple?)  Yes, your recovery time will be exponentially increased, and there will be much less clarity about the night(s) before than back in the day, but you, with your years of experience & drive, are up to the task.  Sometimes you just need to listen to that devil on your shoulder.  This is especially true when there is an open bar.

But then, there will come a moment when you are tired and burnt out, when you begin preferring water to wine, when flirting has become more forced than fun and your party clothes are too binding.  And that's when you will make your way home.  You will crawl into your own bed made with clean, fresh sheets occupied by the ones that love you most of all, and you will retire your full time status.  The next few days will involve a lot green juice, kale, and possibly 2-a-days.  You will go to bed at your usual 10pm bedtime. You will rest & take your vitamins.  You will know that you cannot party the way you could when you were 24.  But you will also know you that still got it.

And that, for me, and maybe for you, is called balance.

It Was A Great Day

I found some old journals while cleaning out my closet the other day, and I starting thumbing through a few of them.  There was an undated entry from what I'm guessing was my sophomore year at Albion.  It was titled, "Perfect Moments:  days I would like to live over exactly as they were." (Um, I know I'm talking about myself here, but seriously, how cute is that?)

As I read through the list, it occurred to me that nothing on it was really earth-shattering.  These were not the *BIG* moments, the supposedly life-changing events that mark most of our histories.  Birthdays, graduations, proms, holidays, "firsts", they were not included on the list.  No, instead, the most Perfect Moments of my 19-years were made of simpler stuff.

A particularly perfect sunny August day spent at the lake.  A trip to an amusement park. Wasting away an afternoon doing nothing with my BFF while waiting for what we thought was the "real fun" at a party later that night.  Three college buddies walking for miles, on a road to nowhere, talking about nothing & everything all at the same time.  Spilling secrets while sitting on the side of a lake drinking High Life from a can.  An impromptu dance party under the stars.

I smiled as I read this list.  Some of the Perfect Moments I remembered clear as day.  Others I had to dig deep to place.  Some of them I can't find again at all.  And yet, I'm still smiling.

I'm smiling because I knew then that happiness could be found in a cup of coffee at Silverman's or a shared laugh or a real & true conversation.  I knew that I had something special in the good friends that I had found.  I knew that life's Perfect Moments weren't those that were photographed & stuck in albums or those with their own recurring space on the calendar or those that required a special outfit.  Even at 19, I knew better.

While I've been wasting my time waiting for the "something bigs" and the "super-excitings", the for real Best-Days-Ever are taking place right now.  And suddenly, I know now what I knew then.  Millions of Perfect Moments are happening every day.

Now, let's start up that list again, shall we?    

The Summer of 1994

June of '94.  We had finally graduated from high school, and we spent all of our time together, in one combination or another.  Days were whiled away at Silver Lake, working on our tans and practicing our flirting.  Weekends were spent in white sundresses, driving from one graduation party to another, making sure that we were seen.  We had jobs, yes, but it seemed like we never worked.  We drank Zima with Jolly Ranchers and sometimes shots of vodka. We wore disco clothes to the Nectarine and danced in the grass at Pine Knob.  We could drink pots of coffee at Silverman's and never run out of conversation.  We were best friends.    

All Midwestern fresh-faced innocence and charm, we were wore our teenage angst like sequins.  We knew that, like all of the others that came before, this summer of 17 wouldn't, couldn't last.  Change was coming soon, it was visible on the horizon.  We could see frat parties and the Freshman 15 in the distance.  But, like all teenagers, we could close our eyes to that which we didn't want to see.  Tipsy from our own youth, drunk on summer, buzzed from too many Clove cigarettes, nothing mattered except us.

The friends that we have in high school are incomparable to any others that we'll ever have again.  We've seen each other through first kisses and broken hearts, eating disorders and parent fights, acne and terrible prom hair, mix tapes and bullies, failed tests and life-changing decisions .  We hurt each other - intentionally & otherwise.  We wear necklaces to publicly declare our friendship.  We celebrate bad decisions together.  We tell each other everything.  And I mean, everything.  We are open wounds, walking nerves, our arms constantly reaching out for each other, seeking someone else who understands.  And, in the summer of 1994, we found those someones.  

"And even when we're old, and beer isn't our beverage of choice anymore, and a phone call from a boy is just a phone call, and we hate microwave popcorn and processed cheese, and the world turns a lot slower than it used to, I'll remember us, singing too loud and off key, basking in the glow of our youth, and we were the only people on earth."  (August 1994)

Validation Street

I said to someone the other day that I "don't normally need validation" in my life. When I said it, I actually believed it. For some reason, though, this statement has been nagging at me. And so, as I often do when I'm obsessing learning about something, I looked up the definition.

val·i·date   [val-i-deyt]

–verb (used with object), -dat·ed, -dat·ing.

1. to make valid; substantiate; confirm.

2. to recognize, establish, or illustrate the worthiness of [xxx]

 

Now I realize what a ridiculous statement that actually was - not for everybody, but for me.  Of course I need others to substantiate my work or my thoughts or my feelings.  Of course I need confirmation that I am a marketing dynamo, that I look cute in my new top, that my blog is funny.  Of course I need you to recognize that I am good mother, a witty writer, a worthy contributor. 

Of course, I do. 

 

Someday, I will be that sort of woman who is so strong and so confident and so self-assured that she doesn't need any validation from anyone, any place, any time.  Someday I will always be the sort of woman that I can sometimes be, that woman that validates her own beliefs, that recognizes her own truths to be self-evident.  Someday I will be this woman 100% of the time.  

 

But, for today, just tell me you like me.

Hottie Hot Hot!

"I think I reached my hotness plateau awhile back, and I'm now on a slow & steady decline from here on out," I said to Tim a few weeks back.

He disagreed because he is a good man.  (He is also not stupid.)

I feel like it's true though.  And it pisses me off.  Aging is brutal - especially when you have lived the (ahem) party girl lifestyle that I have led.  And don't even get me started on having a damn baby.  Your body isn't for you (or your partner) anymore, that's for sure.  And as the years go by, it seems to take a lot more time, money and energy to make myself look halfway decent when 5 or 6 years ago, I rolled out of bed looking pretty damn cute. 

This decline of hotness also seems to be in direct correlation with the decline of men hitting on me.  I mean, yeah, I'm married and I have a kid an all that, but STILL.  It's nice to be hit on once in awhile, right?  It's always nice to know that someone besides your husband finds you attractive.  And maybe, as a liberated woman, I shouldn't say this out loud, but it feels a little like validation.  Or at least it makes me feel like the 2 hours and 45 minutes I spent getting ready were worth it. 

Which leads me to last night....

I went to a party last night.  A work party.  I did not plan on staying out for long.  I didn't think much of it really.  I still spent some time trying to improve my hotness, but nothing crazy.  Well, I did get a spray tan, but so what?  I'm in Austin!

I don't know if it's because SXSW is like Spring Break for grown-ups.  (And geeks.)  I don't know if it's because I was away from my every day life, or if it's because my tramp stamp lower-back tattoo was peeking out of my jeans.  Or maybe it was simply the 4 glasses of wine I had on a empty stomach.  Whatever the reason, it was a good night for hotness.  I was asked for my number three times.  Two different guys asked me to have drinks with them after the party was over.  And another guy - out of the blue - said to me, "You are really sexy."  I wasn't even flirting with him.  No, seriously.

And, later that night, alone in my hotel room after leaving the party alone (hello, I'm married!), I realized something.  Hotness is a state of mind. 

And I am back on the upward climb.

Pretty Good Year

As I've said, I am a professional marketer, a professional mama, and a professional good time girl. (Note: this does not mean "prostitute".)  Gentle Reader, that is THREE full time jobs. How in the world was there ever time for everything in 2012?

1. Successfully made it to my son's first birthday
2. Planned a wedding IN MY BACKYARD while working & baby-wrangling full-time
3. Overhauled our entire home including paint, carpet, and various other home improvement projects
4. Coped with the baby blues and cried quite a bit
5. Learned that taking 30 minutes to eat lunch silent and alone is essential to my well-being
6. Lost the baby weight 
7. Gained some of it back
8. Finally married the love of my life after a 7-year courtship
9. Reconnected with several of my closest friends from the past 
10. Learned the importance of making time for friends, both near & far
11. Looked out at a sea of faces of all of the people I love most in my life and felt like the luckiest girl in the world
12. Ran (mostly) my first 5K
13. Had a fight with my Mom that has likely forever changed the nature of our relationship
14. Finally embraced my love of being a mother
15. Came to the sad conclusion that wheat & dairy do not make me feel good
16. Colored a lot of gray hair and obsessed over many new lines on my face
17. Said goodbye to my Grandma 
18. Spent all day at a cabana in Vegas with 8 of my very best girls
19. Unexpectedly, felt endless gratitude & respect for my in-laws
20. Drank my weight in beer in Bend on our very short but sweet honeymoon
21. Cried and cried and cried and hurt and hurt and hurt for those lost and the families affected by so many tragedies of this past year
22. Discovered that my husband is not only a great partner, he's a terrific father
23. Celebrated births and grieved the death of relationships with my dear Seattle girlfriends
24. Took a giant leap of faith and left my secure job to pursue a new career 
25. Continued my love affair with wine
26. Watched too much reality TV
27. Made peace with myself for some of the larger mistakes I've made
28. Swelled with joy & pride as I watched my son roll over, crawl, take his first steps, say his first words, give his first kisses, snuggle his first stuffed toy, eat his first foods, and call out "Mommy!" for the first time
29. Felt both joy & sorrow more deeply than ever before 
30. Thought to myself time and time and time again, "I must be one of the luckiest women on Earth."

Yeah, it was a pretty good year.  

This Is 36.

This is 36.

We love our families, and we need our downtime.
We nurse our babies but still occasionally nurse hangovers.
We can have a dance party at 3am on a Friday, and we can run a 5k at 9am on a Sunday.
We work hard to bring home the nitrate-free bacon.
We cook it too.
We love deeply and passionately and fiercely.
We are selfish & judgemental & bossy. But we're working on it.
Our faces are beginning to show the many belly laughs we've shared. Our hair is changing color on its own.
We still sometimes call our mother's house "home".
Sometimes we still get carded. And we like it.
We're confident in our short skirts and long jackets.  We do not teeter in 4' heels.  
We cannot be defined by one word, "wife", "mother", "professional"; we are all of these things.
We understand the importance of our girlfriends. But we still take them for granted.
We will travel across the country for the weddings, babies, housewarmings, and birthdays of those we love most.
We give - and get - tough love.
We do what we have to do in order to do what we want to do.
Self-doubt and inner fear have been tempered by time and success.  Mistakes too.
We claim that a cup of tea works wonders for relaxation.  But we know that a glass of Pinot is better.
We dream big.  We hurt big.  We love big. 

This is 36.