Champagne Sundays

During the 4.13.19 gathering of #734IGLIVE (live on Instagram every Saturday at 7:34 a.m. CT) we talked a lot about words. Not the word we were using to speak with, but the words that define us. What are those words that drive you? That inspire you? That are the pillars supporting you each and every day? I haven't been able to shake this conversation. It's self-reflection and that's hard. I feel like I'm always redefining myself. Or trying to, maybe. I'm quick to be inspired. Be influenced. To emulate. I'm quick to take on the skills of others because I know I can. Their success inspires me and I want it. Dang, that's a terrible thing to say. Isn't it? I started to write my three words based on my life story, as instructed. The first word I wrote was restless . Not a good way to start, huh? I then wrote teacher , social , insecure , emotional , and weak . Well, two pillars out of six isn't bad, is it? Maybe this is why I haven'...

As the world is in a tizzy today over the interception that never was to be, I ask you, what happened to the other 58 minutes of the game, and why isn’t anyone discussing what brought the Chargers, or Green Bay for that matter, to that moment?   Why is it okay to have a 2-minute drill and a Hail-Mary pass decide, and not always correctly, the end of a game? My job is Monday through Friday from 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.   What would happen if I decided that every day I was going to come to work at 4:58 and work as hard and diligent and structured and on target as I can for two minutes – how would that work for my boss, my peers, and my family (fans)?   What if, on Friday, I waited until 4:59:55 and threw all of my ideas in at once and hoped that someone was around to pick up on it?   Sounds silly, right? But that’s what we’re talking about today.   And by “we,” I mean everyone who’s ever heard of the concept of football.   We’re all talking about a...

I’m noticing a trend – restaurants are keeping my money – but not in the obvious “you ate it so you have to pay for it” kinda way. Let me explain …     Earlier this week the family and I went to our local Ruby Tuesday for a late bite.  The food was adequate, the service was fine, the environment was standard, but the code of ethics was nowhere to be found.  Our bill was a total of $31.86 and we paid with $40.00 cash.  That’s right, good old fashion cash.  When our change was dropped off we received an even $8.00 and a waiter who vanished.  Let me see here, $31.86 + $8.00 = $39.86.  Whoa-nelly, where’s my $0.14?! I typically wouldn’t go all east-coast-angry-woman-hostile over 14-cents, but this was the THIRD time in two months this has happened to me (with 14-cents being the smallest amount).  The first time was at the Aquarium Restaurant about a month ago, and then just this past Sunday at Maggianno’s.  I ask you, has the ent...

I've been accused of being addicted to many things in my life - big 80’s hair, a good cry for no reason, daytime soaps, any mini series featuring Robert Mitchum or Richard Chamberlain, a good red wine, Prosecco, my son’s laughter - but never in my life have I gotten so defensive over a presumed addiction as when I was accused of being addicted to my cell phone and social media.   I mean really, an addiction? That sounds so extreme! Yet, there I was, sneaking a peek at Twitter when no one was looking, hiding the phone under a pillow when someone would walk into the room, checking Facebook at the first restroom break I could excuse myself to, having hid there just minutes before. But wait, am I addicted? Do my reactions to the accusations render me guilty or simply guilty by association?   Those accusers, who shall remain nameless, seem to think that there was a time and a place when we all simply talked more. My argument is we talk the same now (maybe even more?)...

Did you ever have one of those days where you cry at stop signs?   Okay, so anyone that knows me knows that is a typical day for me, but the past 24 hours seem exceptional weepy.   Honestly, I need to work.   I feel like I have no identity, no challenges, and no successes unless I’m working.   Now I know what many would say, “but you’re a mom, and a great one at that,” or “you should be defined by your heart, not your work,” or “the fact that you’re holding your chin up (most of the time) through all of this is success in and of itself.”   Well … pbltttttttt. I love to work.   I’m excited by taking something and making it better.   I’m excited by brainstorming and the trial and error process.   I’m excited about being right.   I love to work. The thing is; I’m looking at a pile of mess in my house as we’re in the process of painting.   If its work I’m looking for, one would think I could simply open my eyes to the disarray befor...

Change.   It seems to be the word of the week.   Everywhere I turn there’s someone talking about change whether it be in a relationship (you know who you are ... YAY!), in a job status (congrats VR for taking it upon yourself), in waistlines (-50(+) – way to go JS), or even the piggy bank full of change that my son asked to cash in after nearly a year of savings.   Really, I feel right now like everything and everyone is transitioning around me, and I am leading the pack. Someone told me just today how proud they are of me for keeping it all together.   Personally, I don’t think I’ve done a very good job at that, on the inside, but that’s neither here nor there.   As I started to write this, thinking I was going to pour my heart out about personal loss and change for no one to read (a personal blog is a public dear diary entry, right?) I was interrupted by this month’s prayer request email.   Hello reality slap in the face.   Nice to meet you. So ...