Staring Into the Face of 40...

...And what I see in the mirror are wrinkles, laugh lines, sun spots, and more gray hairs than I had a year ago. But it's the face of a life well lived so far. And I'm determined to keep on living that way.

It wasn't ideal timing, financially, but my local bike shop made me a deal I couldn't refuse. I've known the guys there for years, and have spent many a weekend night hanging out with them either at the shop, the lake, or at our local pub. So when some jerk stole my bike over Fourth of July, my bike shop guys were keen to find me a replacement. And hurrah, they found one for me! I picked it up just yesterday, an early 40th birthday present to myself. And I put 17 miles on it last night, grinning ear to ear and adding to those laugh lines etched on my aging face.

In addition to this beauty, I picked up a 'well-loved' bike for $20 from the local thrift shop in my temporary Midwest home. I left it at the bike shop there last Friday before flying home, and they're restoring her to her former glory... or getting it ride-able, anyway. So now I've got something I can ride there to burn off stress after a long day at work, and now a beautiful new bike here to ride on the weekends I'm home. Life is looking up at the moment, despite the curve balls it keeps throwing at me.

It's a good start to a new decade. I'm loving life, even with all it's wrinkles and imperfections.

Balls to It All

Fall has finally arrived, and with it cooler temperatures.


I'm sitting on the front porch tonight, the wind blowing through the only, lonely tree on the property. The leaves rustle, and to my ocean-longing soul, sound like waves breaking upon the beach, sometimes fierce and strong, sometimes slow and caressing, tickling the hair on the back of my neck, a fleeting touch of something tantalizing.





The Man and I are working through some issues, and although we are going to counseling, all I can think is that if we've only been dating a year and are already in marriage therapy we may not stand a snowball's chance in hell.


Speaking of...



I was flying through Dallas the other week and plopped myself down on an airport barstool. The bartender sidles up (it being Texas and all), and asks me "Do you want a bad joke, or a good drink?"




"Both," I say without hesitation.



He takes a step back from his side of the bar, cocks his head and looks me up and down, as if he's taking measure of what may or may not be appropriate.


"Whats the difference between a  snowman and a snow woman?" He asks with a cheeky grin.


"Hmm, I don't really know ," I say.


"A pair of snowBALLS, of course!"


So there you have it, the anatomy lesson for tonight.


A wounded heart and a pair of balls... the latter will get you through the first and damned if I don't have a pair. So here goes nothing. Time to man up and get through the mess.