long life

we had fortune cookies today and this was mine

and I was thinking -don’t we all think this and almost know it to be true- with such certainty that any other idea would be absurd

Most days I actually feel like I am still at the beginning of my life, but with  bits of wisdom, pain and glory that could only be gifts of the  middle.


Where did July go? As beautiful as it was it was fast. Click here for stuff I learned in July


holy shit somehow I forgot about my MOJO YOLO



I have spent the last school year trying to do it all -constantly trying to figure out how I can  be everywhere, do everything and provide for myself and my family.

I feel like I am running through life, head down to the task, no chance to think or catch my breath and  at times I barely recognized myself.  I am pretty sure my happiness has been slipping, as a result.

Add to that, I am in a hurry to be everything and do everything somehow before I turn 50, so I can slide into it fully impressed with where I am at and who I am.

This is coming a little  fast.

biting at my heels, actually

One could argue that all of this responsibility and goal setting and doing  is a kind  of YOLO but it has eaten up the other YOLO- you know, the fun YOLO.  I think I will call it my  YOLO MOJO.

I am a worried that I have forgotten how to relax and have a really great time. I am always focussed on the next task and how to make it all possible

Have I misplaced my YOLO MOJO ?

I have spent this month with two amazing 15 year olds and they have taught me about YOLO- their answer to everything


say it with me


I think maybe this has to be  my new campaign. Finding my  YOLO MOJO.  Can the two  of me co-exist and still get a solid 6 hours of sleep?

I welcome your advice or access to a  fabulous cloning machine.


Click here for my very sophisticated blog post-“if I only had a peepee” on words for Wednesday


when a place inspires


I went to a country party on Saturday night and the backdrop was like a dream

There was a magnificent house, standing like an old man with a long story, each piece of wood in its walls whispering a secret

it was open to the field and the pond like a child open and waiting for direction

and in the house, unrelated treasures so breathtakingly assorted and dropped into place as if they were always there – such a visual relief from so many homes that match and reflect nothing of the people who live there

I walked through  thinking just to be there I felt I knew the hosts intimately

And the willows that dip and bend and drop their unruly hair to cover their faces – surrounded the magnificent pond that sat so still like a mirror- I could barely stand how other worldly and beautiful it was

For so many minutes I forgot there were over 100 people there and a band playing and food and people to talk to

Instead I wondered for so long about how inspiring it would be to live there and wake up to this every day and feel you were in an enchanted forest, in a house with such bulging charm

where anything could happen and nothing would be regular


On Sunday when I left I felt a bit of Robert Frost’s poem but in the best possible way- click here for  what I mean – and don’t hate me for it