The view on Tuesday afternoon Jan 7th from Shelley's backyard.

Lillie took this somewhat impressionistic photo on Tuesday night from Lory's home.

Scores of Angelenos flock to volunteer their time to give and get donations to those who need them.  As Mr. Rogers said, "As my mom used to say, when the news is scary, look for the helpers."

​Having seen images of Hollywood gridlocked in evacuation the day before, Lillie and I jump in the car and drive.
 
Five minutes later, it turns out it was a false alarm, sent all over the city.
“Someone needs to lose their job!!” I text Janine from the car. She responds, “Right?!  A mistake?? SHIT!”
 
SNOW IN LA
The next day we meet Shelley and her two dogs in Santa Monica at Urth Café. She and her husband have evacuated to his office, because it has a kitchenette and the dogs have space.
 
The strangest thing about these fires is how completely capricious they are. They give new meaning to the term, “Blown by the wind”. On one street, one house is burned to the ground, but the house next to it is standing. No rhyme or reason.

Shelley's house is literally one street away from the fire. The red on Watch Duty means burned. The pink means in imminent danger.

We left on Day 5 of the fire. Here is the view from Lory's house on that morning of the Palisades Fire. Day 5.

The sunset on our last night in LA. 
"Though the heart is breaking, happiness can exist in a moment, also. And because the moment in which we live is all the time there really is, we can keep going." —Zora Neale Hurston

I’ve been asked to check in about my word of the year for 2024: Surrender
 
Let’s be honest - usually, by May, any word I chose in January has fallen by the wayside, along with all other NY resolutions.

Surrender, however, was a concept that, ironically, wouldn’t let me go.
 
My close friend Michele sent me the incredible book “The Surrender Experiment” by Michael Singer, which led me to start my own Surrender Experiment of sorts. This has changed my life.
 
For guidance, I’ve been listening to Singer’s podcasts about five times a week, and became a student of surrender. I’ve been doing this for months now, and the learning curve has been steep. Singer is fascinating: a yogi of Jewish origins, he enjoys Buddhism and thinks of Jesus as his personal hero.  His giggle remind me of my Uncle Walter.
 
I still have a long way to go, but probably the best thing I can say about My Surrender Experiment is that my kids say I am less stressed. That’s a big deal, as they are my toughest critics, and they would know better than anyone.
 
Last year at this time, when I started exploring the concept of surrender, my top two stressors were:
1) we were 7 months in to my husband’s unemployment stint (which would last another 9 months). Our savings had never recovered from COVID, and things were financially bleak.  
2) Our younger daughter was being mercilessly bullied. (I had already addressed the situation with her principal, but it would get so bad that she would cry every morning on the way to school, begging and pleading to stay home). She ended up leaving the school at the end of the year, and we weren’t quite sure where she’d go, as we had missed other schools’ application deadlines.
 
Just this to say, things got much much worse before they got better. So, for the kids to say that they found me more relaxed in the midst of all this, is really saying something.
 
What does surrender mean to me? (I think different people define it differently).
 
In my understanding, a lot of surrender centers around letting go. The misconception here is that people think that you don’t take action. Quite the contrary. In response to our financial predicament, I started my own company in 2024 and went back to school after 25 years (which has its own inherent stressors, LOL). Letting go simply means I stopped feeling like I had to fix things. Frankly, people and most things are beyond my control. Letting go simply freed me up to take action from a place of calm after much thought, not out of desperation or as a reaction. In giving myself the space to separate from a situation, I gave myself freedom. In some situations, I see that I don't need to take action at all, where I previously would have been spinning my wheels.
 
I’ve also worked on releasing the past, with all its regrets, pain and disappointments. It helps me stay open and curious to a situation, and not react from my biases. I’ve even worked on releasing past successes, as when you think about it, what good does clinging to them do? This process can take years for anyone over the age of 35. Definitely a work in progress. 
Surrender has even led me to shed a lot of stuff that I’ve been saving from the past: my past, my parents’ pasts, even my grandparents’ pasts. We are here to experience, to share, to pass things along. Clinging hurts more than it helps. 
 
Another big concept has been accepting the present, as in: It is what it is. When I can accept that things are not what I wish they were, or what I think they should be, I can actually relax and start enjoying some aspects of what is in front of me. For example, I have lessened much of the shame and disappointment of our financial constraints through acceptance. It is what it is. The prices on housing and quality education far outstrip middle class salaries today, so in choosing both an exceptional school and home, other areas like travel and entertainment take a hit. I have friends out here who, instead of paying the hefty tuition bills we do, send their kids to the local public middle school and take exorbitant trips. We’ve made a different choice. I was fortunate as a child to do both, but the present is what it is. 
 
I’ve also freed myself from enormous stress by untethering myself from worry about the future.  Again, it’s not that I don’t take action or plan for the future; it’s more like I realize that I can control exactly nothing and no one, not even my heart beat. Again, I remind myself that I’m on the planet to experience life: the joy, the heartbreak and the uncertainty. Look at the challenges I’ve already come through. I can handle what may come.
 
Finally, there’s the whole concept of becoming non-judgmental, which challenges a lifetime of religious upbringing, critical thinking and self-protection. The older we get, the less we know for sure. This frees up the need to “control” things, things over which I never really had control in the first place. Refraining from judgement enables me to stay a lot more open and curious.
 
This surrender stuff is definitely a process, but a year in, I now feel that I live with more serenity, more curiosity and more openness.  I've even started listening to Eckhart Tolle, whose voice reminds me of a muppet.

​So thanks for asking about my journey of 2024. 
 
Now here’s 2025… Anyone want to share their word/concept of the year?  I’m not quite sure what mine will be; it may still be connected to surrender, but I’m open to whatever resonates! 

​I love the holidays. So did my parents. And yet, one of my mother’s pet peeves, (one to which most of us can relate) would inevitably surface. She would send gifts to nieces, nephews and Godchildren, but not hear back. In the time before amazon, just getting a gift to someone entailed a lot of work. “Why is it so hard to acknowledge someone for all the effort, time and expense it takes?” she would wonder, exasperated. "Why are you sending the gift, then?" my Dad would reply.

What Mom was seeking, I now understand, was not recognition, but connection. Gratitude is actually just a form of deep connection.  When we appreciate someone, we see them in a new way. Even in appreciating something, we use a form of higher energy to connect with it.

Like most, I aspire to maintain that connection of gratitude with people and things. The power of gratitude is well-known. Intellectually, we know that its lack leads to disconnection, emptiness and dissatisfaction.
 
My husband gifted my daughters and me a gratitude journal this year for Christmas. You list what you’re grateful for in the morning, and revisit the journal at night to record pearls of appreciation from the day. Yet to my mortification, right next to my bed was an almost identical journal from last year that I had abandoned after just a few days. It's not that I'm ungrateful, it's just that focussing on gratitude seems to get lost in the business of life, issues beyond our control, the problems to address. 
 
Like eschewing sugar or working out daily, why is gratitude so challenging to prioritize?
 
It's not hard to understand. It seems that everything around us conspires against the angels of our better nature to steal our gratitude. Our consumerist society convinces us that we always need MORE: newer, faster, better, bigger. Even the stories and songs of our culture promote the need for more. “Never never never enough” the enchanting but poisonous hit song from the musical “The Greatest Showman” is certainly an anthem here.  Even Thanksgiving has become more about food than gratitude, a day to avoid family conflict as we gather in the name of thanks.

Then there’s the law of diminishing return, an economic principle that manifests in productivity, relationships, vistas, even toys. By the second week with any toy other than a video game, my son is bored. Even our biology seems subservient to the law of diminishing returns: just ask any alcoholic or drug addict.
 
How, then, can we live a life steeped in gratitude?
 
We think that when we are happy we will “feel grateful”. And gratitude may be a byproduct of joy, but we really have it backwards. It is not happiness that leads us to gratitude as much as it is gratitude that leads us happiness.

However, if I persist on “feeling grateful”, my gratitude journals will continue to collect dust. For it turns out that gratitude is not an emotion as much as a decision. It’s a lens through which to see the world, one that suffering ironically tends to sharpen. Gratitude turns whatever we have into enough. 

Upon further thought, why shouldn't gratitude be our default? Who of us can make our heart beat? Keep the planet spinning? The sun rising? We’re really all just along for the ride. We only get to decide how we view that ride. 

So even if most of us have a few concerns going into 2025, let us focus on what we do have and arm ourselves with that appreciation.

​“Over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother’s house we go”. It seemed an apt song, as Thanksgiving meant riding in the car for an interminable hour and a half to my grandparents’ home on Cape Cod. We sang that song until my parents begged us to stop. Upon arrival, the grown ups thought it was so funny that crazy Aunt Mae, Grandpa’s sister, got a speeding ticket on the way down from Boston. My siblings and I, then ages 4, 7 and 9, would put on impromptu plays in the kitchen while the turkey was cooking. Our meal was traditional: dry stuffing, lumpy mashed potatoes, a bowl of squash and green beans steeped in cream of mushroom soup. Grandpa always carved the turkey, and we would walk around the block before dessert, waving to the neighbors. At this point, Thanksgiving meant  family.
 
Ten years later, and it was just another Thursday in Paris, but not for us. Thanksgiving meant that my immediate family invited others to our table, others who were also far from home. This started the tradition of long-distance calls to our family back in America. My mom had become steeped in the art of French cooking, so squash was replaced by pumpkin soufflé and in place of cream of mushroom soup, the green beans were sauteéd with toasted slivered almonds, shallots and garlic. Wine was now prominent on the table. My siblings and I would eat this gourmet food to our hearts content, and miraculously, our weight stayed the same. In place of Grandpa, Dad carved the turkey. We still walked around our block, though all the stores remained open and things were business as usual. Thanksgiving now meant family and friends.
 
Before I knew it, I was the one traveling home, which was now Hingham, Massachusetts. My siblings were already married, and sometimes they would be at our table, other years at their in-laws, so long-distance phone calls were part of the day. My parents had kept up both the tradition of inviting dear friends to the table, and the tradition of excellent French side dishes complementing the turkey. We made time to have pre-meal drinks with their beloved neighbors the Schutz. Nana and Grandpa had passed on by now, so we began toasting those “who are with us in spirit”. At this point, I learned to eat more slowly and purposefully, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to fit into my pants the next day if I ate to my heart’s content. We walked after dinner, bundling up as the wind whipped off the ocean. Thanksgiving now was an opportunity to reach out and catch up with those I seldom saw.
 
Then there was the first Thanksgiving after the pandemic. I was married to a gifted chef by now, had beautiful three children, and we had been in New Mexico for a year.  It was a big post-pandemic deal to invite our friends Marcia and Larry to the table, and frankly, I was grateful to have friends to invite. Moving during the pandemic had made it extremely hard to meet people. My husband now carved the turkey. My father had passed away six weeks prior, so we toasted to him and all those we could no longer be with. The long-distance phone calls were flying. I had plans to celebrate Thanksgiving with my mother and sister and her family that Saturday in Tucson. Two days later, though I sat with my sister and her family and it was a beautiful spread, I couldn’t eat, for Mom was not at the table. She was dying. I excused myself early from the meal, just to sit by her side as she lay unconscious in her hospice bed in the Memory Ward. Bereft, with her lying before me, I kept repeating two things: “I love you” and “thank you”. In the end, I finally understood that that’s all Thanksgiving really means.
 
Three years later, and we are excited to have ten at our table: the five of us, Jory’s mother, and four friends. I sent a myriad of texts to friends and family who are close in my heart. Jory will cook exquisite sides, the kinds Mom used to make. He will carve the turkey, where once my dad did. We will toast to those “who are with us in spirit”, the list of which grows longer every year. We will take the dogs for a walk after our meal, then return for dessert and a game. I want to soak up every minute, because I have all three of my kids still under the roof. This. Here. Now. We are creating the traditions our kids will remember. For all this too, will change. Someday, we will be the ones sitting at our kids’ tables, grateful for their hospitality.
 
In the end, the only Thanksgiving constants are the love and the gratitude. Everything else is just gravy on the turkey.
 
Best wishes for Thanksgiving, one full of love and gratitude.

Finally! After 16 months of struggle, anxiety, frugality…Jory has a job.
 
The irony? It’s the same job he had 16 months ago.
 
No really – the SAME job, with most of the same people, doing the same thing.
 
Turns out the XFL merged with the USFL and rebranded as the UFL.  (are you following that?)

Last year, they did the job without a marketing team, and it really didn’t go well at all. After much financial distress, Jory was fondly remembered. Then ensued three weeks of interviews (in which everyone, it seems, was consulted), and they brought him back to a hero’s welcome.
 
Just goes to show you: sometimes in life, layoffs are really not about you or your performance. In fact, they may have nothing to do with you. (But unfortunately, this is seen only in hindsight.)
 
We are breathing a HUGE sigh of relief.  
 
This list may be slightly embarrassing, but just to say, we know what it’s like to live hand to mouth. Turns out, owning a home is not cheap. Nor is having a car. Or a body for that matter.  

It’s slightly dizzying to be able to tackle the things that we need to. In honor of the 16 months he was out of work, here are 16 things we are so excited to do:
 
1) Start paying off the debt we’ve accumulated.
2) Get Lexi and me to our chiropractor.
3) Have plumbers out to fix the leak in the swamp cooler that caused a hole in our balcony.
4) Have electricians out to fix the electrical units that aren’t working.
5) Have a tech repair the freezer.
6) Deal with the mildew in the basement before it becomes mold (It’s mildew. We checked)
7) Fix the oil leak in Jory’s car
8) Visit my 87-year-old Godmother in Seattle and take her out to lunch.
9) Go out on a date.
10) Buy everyone new underwear.
11) Get my and the girls' hair cut and colored.
12) Hire a bimonthly cleaning person to do floors and bathrooms
13) Buy coffee (we were down to tea)
14) Take the kids out to eat!
15) Sign up the kids for summer camp now to get the discount.
16) Get a massage!
I didn’t even get to funding IRAs and 529s.  Oh, the thoughts one can think when you have money in your pocket. We may even go on vacation sometime somewhere.
 
To cap it off, 16 lessons from 16 months of unemployment:
1) Health is more important than anything
2) When the chips are down, you learn who your real friends are
3) Our girls saw us sacrifice to keep them in school. They appreciate their education.
4) Our girls also learned that if they want money, they need to make it. Lillie started babysitting and Lexi had a bake sale café every weekend this summer.
5) We take nothing with us when we die. Gifts don’t always need to be purchased. Start giving away meaningful stuff now to those you love. Enjoy their reaction.  
6) When someone offers you something, say yes.
7) I always have something to offer, even if it is just a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on.
8) Entertaining at home is bonding, fun, and more affordable than restaurants.
9) Laugh. Laugh often. Nothing lasts forever 
10) Give clothes the kids have outgrown to friends. Accept clothes friends’ kids have outgrown. My girls’ favorite pieces are from girlfriends in LA.  Charity begins at home.
11) I am braver than I believe, stronger than I seem and smarter than I think. We all are.
12) I can make money. I can reinvent myself; ageism be damned.  We all can.
13) We are all loved more than we know.
14) Surrender is a superpower. It is not passive; letting go requires more strength than holding on.
15) Leave our kids an inheritance if at all possible. My parents literally saved us and our home.
16) Life is hard, but I do not have to grow hard with it.

Scenes from this summer: Lillie at Civics camp in Arizona w. one of my mom's best friends.

Last week marked the point that all kids are back in school – including me.
 
I may be the age of my teacher, and may not have finished paying off my last school loans, but what is life if not a wild series of adventures?
 
I haven't blogged for two months now, because I’ve definitely been up to something. In addition to going back to school, I started my own company.
 
What (we both say)?! How on earth did I get here? (And with no alcohol involved, I might add).
 
I point to my word of the year, “surrender”.
 
Here I should also point out that if you’re going to have a concept guide your days, choose carefully. I’m not sure back in January that I understood what “surrender” actually meant. Its mystery, frankly, added to its allure. Yet in daily studying surrender, the concept has transformed my life in ways I couldn’t have fathomed. In a nutshell, I’ve opened myself up to what is in front of me. Rather than resist or repress (or wishfully think otherwise, something I have an advanced degree in), I'm learning to accept what is: the good, the bad, the ugly.
 
What I see in front of me: a big ugly mass of bills. And hideous debt. Growing scarier by the day.
What I do not see in front of me: A book contract. Or a job. Or an agent with the hopes of a job. Or a husband with a full-time job.

 I had been wishing that a book agent would agree to publish the Jewish book I wrote last year with my good friend (no agent did). Turns out Jewish books are not so popular with a war going on, and the Jewish family on which the book is based didn't want it published.

Time to pivot. How can I earn enough money to keep our girls in school? My friend Connie (name change) actually told me that audio porn makes decent money; how desperate was I? 

In response, I make two phone calls: one to Silvana, who owns Atelier Tutors, and the other to a friend of mine, Gen, who is an Independent Educational Consultant (IEC).
 
I had begun coaching college essays for Silvana at Atelier Tutoring back in 2010, when the kids I had been tutoring for three years became seniors. As a writer, I intuitively knew how to help them, and through experience, kept getting better at coaching. My students gained acceptance to top schools around the country. I didn’t think much of the difference I was making, as I rationalized that this was just an enjoyable way to make money while I established myself as a writer. Now, being challenged with audio porn, I remembered how much I enjoy tutoring and coaching.  Silvana thankfully needed help with a few students.
 
Mercifully, a few days later, my IEC friend Gen referred me to a colleague of hers named Tiffany Bond (name change), who was looking for college essay coaches to join her company. I interviewed first with Tiffany, next with Tiffany’s associate, and then was tested on how to fix essays. It was a match.
 
Or so I thought. I am stunned to get the email, “Thanks for your time BUT…”
 
Curiosity overtakes surprise. I know I’m good: what gives?
 
As graciously as possible, I asked Tiffany why she didn’t hire me. Artfully dodging my questions, Tiffany focused instead on how much she has enjoyed meeting me, making the whole thing more baffling. (Then, a few months later, clarity!! On her website, I saw the two women she hired: both half my age. A month later, only one still remained on the website).
 
This is where the surrender concept comes in handy. It is what it is. I gave my level best. Move on gracefully, Silver Girl. 
 
But little did I realize what it really was: The best rejection I’ve ever received.

Sweet Tyler Shea

​“I say the knife, Professor Plum, Billiard Room,” Tyler proudly announced. Ty played his first game of Clue last week, deciding that he could read well enough to play by himself.
 
The funny thing was, he had seen the card for Professor Plum (who was his sister) so knew the good Professor wasn’t the killer. He just decided he liked annoying his sister by preventing her from getting anywhere she wanted to go. He literally called her into every room he entered. Every time he called Lillie into a room, she would shriek and he would howl with laughter. Ty was not playing to win. He was playing for fun. What a concept, one that most of us need reminding of. To her great delight, the purple scholar rolled a six, escaped into a nearby room, and made a guess that won her the game. But in a way, Tyler was the winner. I would play Clue again with Ty any day.

Here's Ty playing Chess with Jack-Jack. He doesn't play to win. He plays to have fun.

 
​However, Tyler has yet to meet a donut or video screen he doesn’t love, and want more of. When we enforce any sort of boundaries, such as, “No, you’ve already had ice cream today,” we get met with, “Why do you hate me?” If we say, “No more time! You’ve been on Roblox for an hour already,” he replies, “I want to kill myself.”
 
Where is he learning this? We try to rationalize and reason and explain to no avail.  Man, parenting can be hard. I was venting this to my friend Barbara (herself adopted), and she suggested I attend a free monthly zoom webinar for adoptive parents. Desperate, we tuned in.
 
Thankfully, we were the only ones on the zoom, so we were given a whole hour with the adoption counselor.  We had been through mandatory counseling when we adopted Tyler, but it focused on how to parent, never mentioning how adoption plays into parenting.
 
Nothing we said surprised her. “He’s suffering from loss,” she said matter of factly. “And he’s probably not even conscious of it.”
 
“But what did he lose?” I asked. “Afterall, his birth mother wasn’t even quite sure what his birth father’s first name was. He’s the product of a drunken one-night stand. And through us, he gained a family that he never would have had.”
 
“Absolutely true,” she agreed. “But he doesn’t look like anyone else in your family. He doesn't know his heritage. And there’s always a sense of loss with any adoption.”

​She recommended a book about the seven core issues of adoption. “There’s always a sense of loss with adoption,” she emphasized, as she shared this screen.

The circle explains a lot. It was obvious that “Why do you hate me?” questions this feeling of rejection, kind of an “I’ll call you out on rejecting me (for not giving me what I want) so I don’t have to feel this alone.”
 
Likewise, he suffers tremendous body shame, refusing to swim without a shirt, refusing to change clothes if anyone is nearby.

His manipulation/control issues center largely around food. “Oh FOOD!” the counselor shook her head. “We polled adoptive parents as to what issue they most want us to cover, and the number one issue was…..
 
 HEALTHY EATING!”

Wait, I thought we were the only ones to battle daily with Tyler over when to eat, what to eat, how much to eat....

Don’t they say that most eating disorders are about gaining a sense of control (which is part of the above circle)? Other friends who were adopted spring to mind, as a few also have interesting diets.
 
As for intimacy, Ty’s the boy who loves everyone. When you ask him who his best friend is, he replies that he has so many, he can’t name them all.

The circle closes with grief and identity, issues we all engage with sooner or later.
 
I grew up without this shadow of loss, but perhaps that made me as a youth callous, careless and centered largely on myself. Loss found me, as it does all of us at some point. Loss has been a powerful teacher. It has broken me, opened me to others’ pain, and gifted me a sense of gratitude for all that I still do have. I have befriended my loss, and I hope to help Tyler to do the same.
 
The loss that comes with adoption is not for us to judge. Recognizing it only means that we can acknowledge and work with it for what it is. As the saying goes, it’s not bad, it’s not good, it just is what it is. With abortions becoming harder to obtain in our country, adoptions will inevitably increase. We can only hope that there are more people open to seeing the joy in expanding their families this way, and to have the willingness to explore this loss with their kids.
 
As for my little guy, this loss he cannot verbalize lives inside him next to a fierce loyalty and kindness. His teachers have written home how they love having him in class because he stands up to bullies. He loves to referee disagreements between his sisters (much to their annoyance) because he loves peace. When he grows up, he still wants to be a firefighter, the profession he claimed as soon as he could talk. He wants to rescue cats from trees and save other people. He remains unaware that he has already saved his family members in ways he cannot begin to fathom.
 
He turns 8 on Friday.  Happy Birthday dear Tyler.

Thanks to all who sent birthday greetings. I spent my birthday/Memorial Day weekend in a gorgeous handcrafted New Mexican rustic cabin with my family and friends Marcia and Larry. It was the best weekend I’ve spent so far in the almost four years we’ve been in NM. Thank you Marcia and Larry!!
 
As birthdays often prompt, I've made some time to think. Here 5.5 thoughts from my birthday…things I thought I knew but wish I had truly understood when I was 28.
 
1) CHANGE – I always intellectually knew that “nothing stays the same”, but from childhood, I've had the tendency to cling to what has been, to save, to preserve (some may say hoard?). I’m not advocating turning one’s back on the past, but just letting go of things that I don’t use anymore, clothes I don’t wear anymore, and, even, when it’s no longer a fit, letting go of people whose energy or choices brings me down, no matter how long they've been in my life. Human nature is to avoid change when possible, to keep things "just in case", to keep things to make others happy, all of which are a recipe for disaster in an ever-changing world. Instead, I must stay open to all the new things that intimidate or overwhelm me. One of the last lessons I learned from my parents is the emotional price one pays for avoiding change. Everything changes, from technology to our relationships, to our bodies. I am learning to greet each new day with acceptance and openness for whatever it brings, with no judgement attached (which isn’t always easy!)
 
2) SHARE – I always knew that it was important to share, but now, I find, it’s gone from “a good idea” to “that’s why we’re all here.” In the end, we can keep exactly ZERO of what we have. When I’ve finished books, I’ve begun sending them to friends, as it sparks great discussions. I’ve become strategic about sharing my time, my energy, my talents, our home, and some beautiful things that we’ve enjoyed and now want others to enjoy as well.
 
3) CONNECTION - As the realization that my parents’ generation is leaving us, I have a new conviction of the importance of cultivating both old and new friendships. I am carving out time to see friends who initially were my parents’ friends (see March’s blog). On the other end of the age spectrum, thankfully, I genuinely enjoy some of my kids’ friends, and their parents. In writing this, I realize that in all four of my different freelance jobs, I work with people whom I genuinely enjoy and respect, and actually consider to be friends. Friends always make a place more special, an event more special, life more special. Think of it this way: which is more fun, visiting Paris or visiting Paris when you have friends there to connect with?
 
4) YES – The word yes can take us places. This point is also “the importance of being open to the people and opportunities in front of us.” Every single one of my freelance jobs has come from word of mouth/referral, because I said yes to the people in my life.
 
5) LAUGHTER – My kids tell me I laugh a lot, and they like that. Yet, there are many reasons not to laugh. From our political mess, to this marking a year of unemployment for my husband, to trying to figure out where one of our kids will go to school next year (she left her independent school due to unremitting bullying), it seems I encounter despair and fear daily, in great doses. And yet, I’ve learned that this anguish is exactly why laughter is so important. We don’t laugh because our lives are ideal. We laugh to connect, to plug into and enjoy the present moment, because it’s really all we have.
 
0.5) THE POWER OF YET – Gone is the belief that I have to be good at something to do it (karaoke beware!). Gone is the belief that “it’s too late”. Join me in the power of yet, as in “I’m not good at decorating cakes…YET”. And even if "yet" doesn't arrive, it's the journey, always the journey...

Here's to another year ahead. Thank you for sharing this ride with me. 

Ty and the beloved Ms. Camera ; Lexi loves to make TS bracelets

There was great joy and excitement this morning in our home. Of course, I needed to figure out why (can this be duplicated? Cloned? Frozen like Ted Williams?) After some caffeine, I figured out that it’s the result of excellence.
 
Not our excellence – I wish! Rather, it's thanks to the excellence of two women: Lynzie Camera and, yes, Taylor Swift.
 
Ms. Camera is Tyler’s first grade teacher, and in his eyes, hung the moon (a position I used to hold, but lost, because apparently I don’t grant enough iPad time). This evening is the Spring Fling at school, and there will be two booths: a photo booth and a dunking booth. Ty learned that Ms “Cwamia” (he still cannot pronounce "Camera" despite 9 months of practice) will be at both. On the walk home yesterday, that is ALL he talked about.

He awoke an hour early this morning, needing to know what time Ms. Cwamia will be at these booths. He bugged me until I finally broke down and texted her (at 7:04 AM) as if it were some emergency, because in his eyes, it is. Even though he will be in her class all day, he cannot miss her tonight. She graciously texted back with her times – no small feat considering she has a middle-school aged son of her own and a job to get to!
 
Teachers still matter. Ms. Cwamia (we all call her that now in my house) is the reason Tyler wants to go to school in the morning. Tyler is the kid in her class with the IEP, whose hand never goes up first, unless someone is handing out food. But she sees Tyler as more than that, and he knows it. He feels he matters to her. He wants to thank her the only way a 7-year old boy can: by dunking her in cold water tonight.
 
Across the hall from Tyler, our 13-year-old daughter awoke two hours early (at 4:30 AM) to listen to The Tortured Poets’ Department, Taylor’s latest. I wasn’t even aware a teenager was capable of waking up this early on her own.
 
Lillie Grace and Lexi have had a count-down since the Grammys, when Swift announced the release of the album. The songs (I’ve been told by our in-house experts) are GOOD. At midnight (10 PM here), the expected 17 songs dropped (we would NOT let them stay up). Then two hours later, Swift released an additional 13 songs, shocking everyone. That is the mark of excellence.
 
Clearly, Swift doesn’t need the money. She just gave her fans double the value because she wants to. So why are there all these Swift haters again? That both of my daughters chose a role model who over-delivers, is a savvy businesswoman, and a hard-working creative known for her generosity brings me joy. If they can tap into a passion as she has, develop their craft daily, learn how to monetize it and be known as givers, I’ll buy every TS item around for them as long as they want me to.
 
It was a stellar morning. Everyone got out of the house on time (a victory not to be downplayed). But it was more than that. Thanks to these two women who go above and beyond what is asked, we all awoke inspired.