National Meteor Watch Day

I love meteor showers. I have, many times, set my alarm for 3:00 a.m. and stood on my front porch hoping to catch the fleeting light of a brightly burning comet. I have seen a few and it is truly spectacular. 

Meteor is defined as the visible passage of a glowing meteoroid, micrometeoroid or asteroid through Earth’s atmosphere, after being heated to incandescence by collisions with air molecules in the upper atmosphere, creating a streak of light via its rapid motion and sometimes also by shedding glowing material in its wake. 

That is scientifically correct, but I so much prefer the romantic name shooting star or falling star and all that connotes. 

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket

Never let it fade away

Catch a falling star and it in your pocket

Save it for a rainy day

Tonight I did not see a meteor shower. However, I did see some amazingly beautiful fireworks. They were top-notch, crème-de-la-crème, professional fireworks. But that is not the amazing part. 

The amazing part is the love by which these fireworks were presented. The amazing part is the heart of three humans, hearts so good and caring and giving that these fireworks are nothing but a labor of love, love, love. And it shows.

I will continue to look for meteors and be moved by their beauty. But the brightest comets I ever hope to see pale in comparison to the light in the eyes and hearts of these three dear ones. They are incandescent through and through. 

Cuatro de Mayo

We ate perfect shredded beef burritos and corn and black bean salsa. We ate stuffed bell peppers and guac and queso. We devoured scoops of taco salad and drank margaritas. And we finished with sopapilla cheesecake squares. 

It was delicious and delightful. 

We also laughed till we cried and then cried until we laughed again. Difficult words and admissions and honesty and healing. 

Cinco de Mayo is an annual celebration to commemorate the Mexican Army’s difficult victory over the French Empire at the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862, under the leadership of General Ignacio Zaragoza. 

We celebrated on cuatro de Mayo and commemorated our continued victories over the difficulties of this life. We are better together. And we will continue the fight. We are an army that will not be defeated. 


Healthy (relationships) Thursday

This is my friend, Lynn. A dear young woman brought us together about three years ago. This dear young woman was acquainted with Lynn through a college friend. This college friend is married to Lynn’s son. 

Lynn is a hairdresser. The dear young woman told Lynn about me and told me about Lynn. She felt sure that we would be instant friends and that we surely must be “bosom friends”, as Anne of Green Gables would say.

And she was right. Lynn is my bosom friend. 

I see Lynn about every five to six weeks to get my hair “conditioned”. But our visits are about so much more than my hair. 

Lynn is in one of those great lofts within a large structure of lofts. Hers is near the back of the building, tucked away in a cozy corner. She has it decorated in shabby chic style with soft lamps and a smallish stuffed chair with a lovely aqua throw placed carefully carelessly across the arm. There is an essential oils diffuser misting out lavender and a Keurig coffeemaker warmed up and ready.

I am not exactly sure when it began but I always run by the bakery on the way to Lynn’s salon and pick up two buttery, crispy, yet soft, fried Danish rolls. While my hair is “resting”, we drink hot coffee and eat our luscious pastries. 

We laugh together and pray together and talk about everything. Everything. 

Lynn once told me that being a hairdresser is similar to being a bartender. Once the client is in the chair, an overwhelming urge comes over them to tell and trust Lynn with their deepest fears and joys and struggles. She fully respects that. She is like Fort Knox and will keep your words safely locked in her mighty vault.

I walk out of Lynn’s salon with my belly fed and my heart fed and my spirit fed. And oh yeah, because of Lynn’s experience and talent, I walk out with beautiful hair, to boot. 

It is a wonderful way to spend an afternoon and I plan to keep up the visits as long as my hair continues to need “conditioning”. At this stage in life, that need appears to be increasing. Sigh…

Oh well, I’ll take the need as long as the fix is this pleasant. 

Sisters from other Mothers

In life we have many different kinds of friends. One is the type that you don’t talk to very often, you are possibly not FB friends, you don’t stay in close contact and you do not know what is going on in their day to day lives. But….and this is a big but (double entendre), when you make the effort to set up a dinner, you spend three hours together and completely catch up. It is as if time has frozen since you last hugged and talked and laughed.

These are dear sisters in Christ. We have spent many hours together growing, learning and seeking God’s heart. We have shared intimate details of our childhoods, the good and the bad. We have prayed for each other and complained to each other and cried with each other and most certainly done our share of laughing with each other. We are women who love passionately. We also are women who understand the need to speak honestly and know that trust will never be broken or spoken of outside of our circle.

There is a certain kind of freedom with friends like these. There are never hurt feelings. There is never pressure to meet up. When we do, it’s delightful. It never disappoints. We know that we are connected by our heart strings and they are strong and unbreakable. We are bound by stories and those stories are our very own. What happens in huddle, stays in huddle.


Melaleuca, Frankincense and Lavender

I have been blessed with great friends. This dear one knows of my struggles and challenges (and  joys) with Mama. She checked in with me this week and said she has something that may help.

This morning, dear one came to visit and sat down with me to talk about essential oils. I’ve had an interest for a long time. She patiently explained which ones may be helpful to Mama on some of her worst days of anxiety, breathing issues, stomach issues, congestion and overall not feeling great. She told me how to use them and so generously gave some to me, even offering her diffuser. I told her I need to buy one anyway. And I will.

At the end of the explanations, I said to her: “These sound great for Mama. Now what about me?” She was already steps ahead. She told me these would be helpful to me, as well. I could use some help with sleeping and I could use some help with de-stressing. She told me what to do do. Lavender is one, which is a favorite for me anyway, I think in part because I love the color lavender.

The next time I am with Mama I am getting out the oils. Even before that, however, I will be breaking out the lavender and vetiver as I attempt to sleep tonight.

Thank you, dear Julie. You have a generous heart. You are a gem. You are a moonbeam. You are a bright and beautiful field of lavender. I will be thinking of you tonight as I dream of white little lambs frolicking in that field. I am feeling sleepy already.


Nine Gifts

It is 1:24 AM. Well, it is actually 12:24 AM. Love the fall back. I have missed my daily writing deadline by 24 minutes. It is still night and dark and I am in my jammies. That qualifies.

I am late in posting because of a long and lovely evening with dear, dear friends. We came together as strangers four years ago. And now we are thick as thieves. We always have a wonderful time together; eating, having good conversation and much laughter.

But tonight was different. Tonight we had a fireside chat and went around the circle telling of the “state of the union”; where we are, our joys and our struggles. There were tears, admissions of frustration and disappointment and questions about life.

There is something about wood crackling in a fire on a perfect fall evening. There is something about Edison lights strung over the pergola. There is something about crickets and a huge harvest moon hanging above the trees.

There is something about feeling safe and loved and trusted. There is something about being in community with other sojourners who are hitting the same mountains and the same valleys.

I am thankful for these nine who hold my heart and entrust me with theirs.

Goodnight dearest of friends. Goodnight all.



This is Marcelina Robledo. She is the wizard who helped me set up my blog. This is Marcelina helping me fix some things on my blog. This is Marcelina helping me fix things on my blog, drinking Crossroads coffee. Crossroads Church is a great place to meet. There is free coffee, tea, soda and Wi-Fi. You are welcome for the shout-out, Crossroads.

My friend, Marcelina (Marcy), tweaked my blog site so that readers can make comments. There is also now a way to send me a private email. Additionally, she helped me set up my “About Me” information. Kudos to Marcy, seriously. She is good. She also has a beautiful smile but at this moment, she is focused.

I love writing. I always have. When I was a little girl, I remember playing “school”. One of my favorite parts was creating fictitious names for the children in my class and calling out their names for the attendance list.

In high school I remember loving my creative writing class and being excited about a writing assignment, rather than dreading it. I wish I could say the same for algebra.

In my early adult years, I worked in the typing pool for Emery Industries, headquartered in the Carew Tower. A part of my duties was delivering mail and often filling in at the desks of the secretaries to the executives of the company. The executive offices were on floor number 41. As long as I can remember, I have struggled a bit with claustrophobia. Therefore, I do not love elevators. I got stuck in one once and it gave me a scare. I really am making a point here.

The typing pool was on the 13th floor, so often I had to get to floor number 41 and sometimes in a hurry. I was forced to ride the elevator. I remember that I always made sure I had a blank legal pad and a pen with me. If I got stuck, I could at least write. I know. I’m a dork.

Through my busy years of being a young mother and working full time and keeping up with life, writing often took a back seat.

I am thrilled and honored to be able to work on this daily blog. It brings me joy to be able to submit a piece of work that I have created. I realize that even if very few follow my blog, I am victorious in doing it.

Some goals take a very long time to achieve.

A huge part of my reason to write is to create community; to reach out to others who may be able to relate to some of my joys and struggles. I am looking for camaraderie in this endeavor.

I would love to hear from you. Send a comment. Let me know what you think. Let me know how you are feeling. Let me know if you have a suggestion for a writing topic. I will listen. And will do my best to be accountable on this journey. Thank you for being my listeners and my comrades.

And a big thank you to Marcelina who patiently tells me which buttons to push on my keyboard and pretends that my questions are not dumb. Much love.



Rainy day and Monday, to boot (K.C., may you be enjoying a sunny, heavenly day.) Needed my second cup of coffee en route to another meeting. McDonald’s drive-thru. I order the coffee: “I’ll have a small coffee with two creams.” My standard order. The voice through the box said “Okay, that will be sixty cents.” Hmm…I had already counted out my one dollar’s worth of change from the collection that accumulates on Mike’s nightstand. I took away forty cents of it and handed it over to the man at the window. But I had to know why. So I asked: “Why did you charge me only sixty cents for coffee?” “Because I gave you the senior price” he replied. My next question “Can you see me when I order?” He said no. And the questioning continued: “Then how do you know to give me a senior price for coffee?” “Well”, he said, “I am 50 years old and I thought your voice sounded like you were also 50, or older.”

Okay, hold the phone, or the microphone or whatever fits here. My next question: “So you can tell a person’s age from their voice?” His response “Usually.” All of this is going on when there are five cars behind me awaiting their Big Mac value meals.

This left me in deep thought.

If voice is the age give-away, then Miley Cyrus and Mila Kunis should be paying sixty cents when they order their small coffee with two creams.

And in that same vein, I will begin practicing my best Didi Conn or Mindy Kaling or Ariel voice.

Newsflash restaurants: Do not assume someone’s age by voice, or even by face, for that matter.

A rainy Monday with too many assumptions ended with a lovely dinner with five dear women who are my true sisters in Christ. We laugh together and cry together and break bread together. We show our pretty sides and our ugly sides. We love unconditionally. I am extremely grateful for them every day, but especially on the days when the world tells me I am too old to order a regular priced coffee.



The day before Sunday

Saturdays are often unpredictable and eclectic. A Saturday can be full of errands and visits and shopping, and that can be good. Saturdays can also be work days; cleaning, painting, laundry, mowing, closet-cleaning. And that can be good. Saturdays can be lazy; sleeping in, big breakfast (brunch), back to the couch in jammies till early afternoon. That can be good. Though, I cannot remember when I last had one of those.

And this one was good. A little flooring shopping after a pumpkin muffin and hot coffee. Some yard cleanup and leaves raking and watering of the last of the summer flowers. I am trying desperately to hold onto some of those lovely red impatiens and the full, lush ferns.

Noah playing keyboard and drums and worshipping with the band. Church with friends and great burgers after. A lovely, crisp, nearly chilly October evening. Notre Dame football, dark chocolate and steamy hot red tea. That can be good.

And that is enough.


Following last week’s two day work conference, the team went out to celebrate. Someone came up with the idea of going to a place with karaoke. It had been a long day and I was ready to go home, but for team/solidarity/thank-you-from-the-boss kind of deal, I went. I confess that I have always wanted to try karaoke.

We ate pub grub of chicken wings and fried pickles and potato skins. Good stuff. Around 8:30, the karaoke was open for business. A glass of wine (or two) may have helped create bravery in some of my teammates. They went after karaoke like dogs after beef. It was quite entertaining, actually. Two of my women friends talked me into getting up there with them. One of them chose the song. It was “You’re So Vain” by Carly Simon. I like Carly Simon but I dislike 70’s music. I much prefer 60’s and 80’s. But It was fun. We were like The Supremes up there. If I had not been with a work group or even better, known no one in the room, I would have gone all Shania Twain/Gloria Estefan/Sara Evans on them. Another time.

Today I was driving and singing along with Alison Krauss “When You Say Nothing At All”. Another one for the list. I thought about that night at Eli’s. It’s interesting how much fun people can have away from work. Some of these women are not close friends in “real life” but on a night of release and celebration and perhaps a sip or two of Chardonnay, there is laughter and hugging and good non-work conversation. How nice it would be if we could learn to relax and have some laughs and hugs on an ordinary day of the week. Perhaps we should have casual/karaoke Friday. I will bring it up at next staff meeting.