Dreams…

I nap every day. I love to listen to people talk about taking a 30 minute nap or a disco nap. A nap to me is at least 2-3 hours. I recently heard a statement that hundreds of years ago, people slept two times a day for 3-4 hours at a time. That would totally work for me. I love to sleep, but I like to be up really late at night. They say the freaks come out at night and that’s probably true. I think I achieve more between the hours of midnight and 6am then any other time during the day.

Today, I kept waking up from my nap and falling back to sleep and waking up and falling back to sleep. It was…amazing. I love sleep where I fall back into a dream. Do you ever wonder where dreams originate? I’m not talking about neuroscience and sleep studies. No…I’m talking about where are our dreams born? Recently, I’ve even wondered if my dreamstate is reality and my waking life is my dreamstate. Sometimes, I confuse myself or think I’m going crazy, but I know I’m not.

When I was a little kid, my mom gave me a journal to write down my dreams. She said if when I woke up I immediately wrote down my dreams then I would remember them more clearly. I now remember my dreams very clearly. Sometimes…too clearly. Today, my dreams were very, very strange. I’m thinking about beginning to write down everything I dream about and turning it into a weird little book. I need a title though…that’s what keeps me from writing most of my books. Oh well…

What do you dream about? Do you write down your dreams? Do you remember your dreams? I believe dreams are a woven tapestry of our subconscious mind with souvenirs of our daily life. What do you think? I’d probably have more to say about it if I didn’t need to go to sleep and go back to dreamland…because we’re on borrowed time as it is.

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Thoughts on Turning 40…Fear and Change.

I really hate when people say they get me or they understand. They don’t. They don’t understand what I’m going through just like I can’t necessarily understand what they’ve gone through with their life experiences. It is the pivotal differences between sympathy and empathy; neither of which I want. And I desperately don’t want pity. Not about turning 40…that’s a good thing.

It just so happens that I’m turning 40, an epic age, at the exact same time I’m going through a major transition in my life. For those that don’t understand transitions please let me define. I’m not talking about leaving a relationship or quitting a job. While those are perfectly fine transitions, I’m talking about something much, much deeper.

Have you ever been driving around town, running errands, listening but not really listening to the music and all of a sudden you realize you’ve ended up somewhere you never meant to go. Maybe you completely forgot you were on your way to the grocery store. Have you ever sat on the front porch and watched the stars overhead and wandered what your life would be like if it were different. When it is different. There is a great scene in Texasville where Jeff Bridges walks in on his wife, played by Annie Potts, laying on the bed. He asks her what she’s doing and she answers, “thinking”. When he asks what she’s thinking about she explains that women think millions of things in a day and go through millions of changes in a day. Well, I don’t think this is just women…I think all of us go through similar changes. But we perfect our lives in a way that we become accustom to these changes and don’t challenge what we really want in our lives, because, we are too afraid.

In the last week, all of my friends and family have asked me on a pretty consistent basis what I want to do for my birthday and the answer is that I’m not really sure. I’ve never been a party person so I know I don’t want a party. We’ve just spent the last week celebrating Alex’s birthday at numerous birthday dinners, so I don’t really want to go out to dinner. We were supposed to go to Vegas, but have decided to wait when we can spend a little bit more money. I thought about driving to Chicago for the weekend but we were just there for a bachelorette party. I entertained the idea of renting a lakeside cabin and taking the dogs for the weekend but after processing the packing, etc I realized we have a pool here and my dad lives on a lake, so we might as well stay home. Nothing seems right for my birthday.

And then I realized the reasonp.

Celebrating my birthday this year is not a superficial surface passing. Celebrating my birthday this year is the coronation of a major transition in my life. A transition of the mind, body and spirit. I have been very sad and unhappy for some time because I have allowed myself to become someone I don’t really know anymore. And with the exception of Alex and probably two or three other friends, I don’t know that anyone else really knows the real Peter either. I put on a very good act.

The real Peter doesn’t give a fuck…but then again he does. He cares deeply about things that matter and pays very little importance to things that don’t. I’ve spent the last several years caught up in drama and ridiculousness that doesn’t matter. The real Peter tells it like it is and isn’t worried about someone’s reaction because typically, that’s what people have learned to love. The real Peter loves the smallest details in life. The real Peter does not change the radio station for anyone because people used to love his singing to country music. The real Peter loves country music…and folk music, dance music and rap. The real Peter will try almost everything once unless it may risk his life. The real Peter takes his recovery and sobriety very seriously and wouldn’t have put himself in half of the situations he’s put himself in over the last several years. The real Peter respects the sanctity of marriage and has very little respect for those that don’t. The real Peter is very opinionated. The real Peter will smoke a cigarette if he wants to smoke a cigarette…unless you kindly ask him not to smoke. The real Peter is comforted with the safety of a clean home, dogs who love him, a loyal husband and does not care for change. The real Peter is terrified by change, which is why is he so resistant to life transitions…but it’s time.

During the last week, I’ve explained to people that starting on my birthday on Friday, many things will be changing in my life. I think they are a little bewildered and unsure what this may mean and how it will affect them. Let me make this very clear…I’m not moving, leaving Alex and making any drastic changes in my surface life. It is what lies beneath that will change. And as I sit on my front porch late at night, typing at my computer in my garden office, I have outlined the next year of my life. The best year of my life…hopefully.

While talking to my best friend the other day, and I say best because she has been the one constant best in my life for the last 15 years, I asked her what she wished she had known at 40. She explained that she probably wouldn’t have spent as much time with people that wouldn’t matter to her on an intimate level later in life. We also talked about my constant need to explain myself…an art I have learned to master only in the last few years. It is these kinds of changes I will be implementing in my life, along with a laundry list of goals, hopes and dreams I will accomplish!

Please follow me over the next year as I write daily posts and do daily videos about my life and the lessons I learn, on and off the couch. Maybe you’ll learn a few things from me. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll learn a few things from you too…because we’re on borrowed time as it is!

Own Your Coolness!

I was driving around this afternoon listening to some old music I loved in high school. The Cure. The Smiths. The Grateful Dead. Thumbing through my iPod I found songs I hadn’t listened to in a few years; probably not since I had downloaded them during one of my “back when” memory fits. As I went over song after song, my eyes finally rested on the words of a song I could not remember having heard since my last days of high school “Anchorage” by Michelle Shocked.

I couldn’t just immediately play the song. It had to be perfect. So I lit a cigarette, took a sip of my coffee and finally pushed the play button.

As the words flew through the car my mouth rested on every syllable, remembering every last rhyme and intonation as only happens to me today with songs I’ve heard 9 million times. And I was reminded.

Of smoking Camel Lights late at night in my friend’s back yard. Of endless nights driving around Carmel, Indiana looking for “something” or “someone”. Summer days so hot we could barely breath. Winter days missing school but able to drive over to each others’ houses to complain about how our parents were driving us crazy. Notes passed in hallways. Threats of fights. Butterflies flapping wings of love uncertain in our stomachs. Movies like Pretty in Pink and Sixteen Candles. Moonlighting. Roseanne. 90210…the first time.

And listening to the words of this magical song I instantly remembered one person.

Shell.

I had a small group of friends in high school but she and I were the closest during the first years of high school while I ended my days there being best friends with her sister Margaret. I’m not really sure why I thought of her or why her smile and ever changing hair flashed through my memory. Maybe it was the funny cartoons she used to make for me of a imaginary triplet named Trendy Hairlip. Or maybe it was my having found my old journals which reminded me why we stopped being friends in the first place…because I had found and read hers. Or maybe it was just perfect timing. I don’t know.

I miss her though. I miss all my friends that knew me way back when. Sometimes I wish they were still around me today. And I’m not afraid to brag…I’m cool. I’m probably cooler now than I was then because I don’t care much, or at least I’ve convinced myself of this, of what other people think. Nonetheless I found myself wondering if she was still cool today because she was back then. Man…we were cool!

And laughing to myself as I type this I find it interesting I didn’t realize how cool my own mother was until mere years before her death. But she was very, very cool. The kind of cool that would smoke clove and vanilla cigarettes with coffee at midnight, light a few candles and say, “you know I still don’t understand how Oswald got Kennedy from the 6th floor. There’s just no way.” Or, dancing in her kitchen to Janet Jackson and Garbage while walking miles in her neighborhood to The Grateful Dead and CSNY. Her greatest claim to fame was having finished Ulysses in one weekend and knowing Steve Martin was going to be famous when she saw him on Johnny Carson. “I just knew it“.

She was way cool.

And so am I.

And so was I. And so was Shell. And I hope she still is today. I hope she wakes up every once in awhile, the sun straining her eyes and thinks for a split second it was all a dream and I’ll be picking her up for school in just a few. Maybe she’s forgotten the journal incident. But if not, I apologize. This is my amends for a horrible act…but I liked what I read, sorry. I hope she remembers and retains that coolness…because we’re on borrowed time as it is.

On Borrowed Time…

“We’re on borrowed time as it is”…As many of you know by now, my mom used to say this to me on an almost daily basis. How true, but I guess I think about it more philosophically than realistically. We are, in fact, on borrowed time. I was really thinking about this last night as I was driving home from work. For some reason I was having a Mom day, which means I can’t get her out of my mind and usually I’m a little bit more fragile than other days. I was thinking about how much I would love to see her just one last time. What I wouldn’t give for a little more time with her. A whole day…an hour…a half an hour. But what would I say? I’ve joked with people for the past three and half years since she’s passed away that if she came back for a day, we would hug and cry and laugh for the first two hours but then we would probably be bitching at each other again. If you knew us together, you know this to be true. We were like Italian alcoholics in recovery, downing coffee and screaming one second and crying and saying ‘I love you’ the next. It was insanity.

I was thinking about how many clients have told me how much they wish they could spend just one more day with a loved one who had passed away. The funny thing is, we never think about this on the days that we DO have time to spend with our loved ones. Honestly, how many days have you spent with your husband, best friend, mother or even your dog where you appreciate every second, every moment of the day. Even just a half an hour where you think to yourself, “I really appreciate this person. I love them so much and I am so present in this moment I am spending with them.” Don’t even think about it because the chances are you’ve haven’t. Most of us can’t conceptualize losing someone until they’re terminally ill or have passed away. It is only in those moments when we say we wish we could have them back to spend precious time. Oh, the things we’d say and do.

Why aren’t we doing those things now?

And further more, we grieve all of those dreams we wish our loved ones would have achieved. Why aren’t we pursing our own dreams on an intense level every day. In the end, we’re the only ones who can make them happen.

My mom had several dreams. She wanted to be a costume designer in Hollywood for epic films like Gone with the Wind. She adored the designer Edith Head who did all of the costumes for the Hitchcock movies and she dreamed of following in her path. She also wanted to be an actress or a writer. I have since found over 30 journals and an entirely completed manuscript. So she was, in fact, a writer. She was just never published. I do have the copy of her rejection letter from Robert Bly, the poet laureate of Minnesota, for his literary magazine. She always believed someday she’d win an Oscar and would talk about how she played the main character in The Bad Seed her freshman year of college at Indiana University. She was really going places. But most of all, she wanted to be a criminal trial attorney, living on a houseboat in San Fransisco harbor. She’d say, “don’t you think I would have made an amazing trial attorney?” And everyone would just stare like she was crazy, imagining Bobbie Monn in court, the judge unable to shut her up or pull her hands from the neck of a rapist…or Republican.

She never accomplished these things. I’m not sure she ever would have even if she lived to be 104. Fear kept her stuck in place. Fear keeps me stuck in place. Fear of success. Fear of failure. Fear of commitment. Fear of the unknown. Maybe it’s just how I’m programmed that throws those walls up in front of me, but I think that fear harnesses my thoughts of “I wish I had one more day” instead of “today I will set out to accomplish everything I dream of and spend the time with the people who mean the most!” I remember while my co-worker’s father was terminally ill she beat herself up because she wasn’t visiting him regularly because of her demanding work schedule. Towards the end a friend told her, “Years from now, you won’t look back on this situation and wish you had worked more.” God…ain’t that the truth!

Take time today to really enjoy the day. Smell the air. Drink some really good coffee. Enjoy the freshness of a glass of water only the way it tastes, icy cold, first thing in the morning. Smile. Dance down the street. Be unafraid. Jam your music and sing at the top of your lungs, even if it’s Do Re Mi from The Sound of Music. No one cares! Have an adult lemonade stand. Start writing that book you always wanted to write. Or start reading the book that has been sitting next to your bed for months. Look up casting agents in Hollywood. Put your pictures up on Model Mayhem. Take some chances. Have great sex with your partner. Do the whip cream and chocolate strawberry’s you’ve been talking about forever. Stay up late watching a scary movie in bed. Tell old memories to friends. Make new ones. Eat lunch somewhere you’ve never eaten before. Eat dinner somewhere you’ve never eaten before. Get a slushy and mix the flavors. Buy a children’s book and read it to your dog. Take a walk. Take a run. Buy a bike! I did…just to ride around the neighborhood and say hi to my neighbors. Enjoy today…because you could be gone tomorrow…or someone you love could be gone tomorrow. We only have a limited amount of days here and no one knows how many.

At the end my mom looked at me and said, It’s not the things you did that you regret. It’s the things you didn’t do.” She was so right! And somewhere up there, I believe, she’s still dancing with an umbrella to Singing in the Rain, kicking at puddles on her front porch, splashing raindrops of dreams and opportunities for all of us down here….just smiling and smiling…because we’re on borrowed time as it is!

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Gifted With Creative Dreams Accomplished…

Tonight, I fell into bed at about 8pm to take an hour nap but ended up sleeping until midnight when Alex came to bed. Wide awake, I talked to the dog for awhile and then decided to go out for a drive, something I’ve become accustomed to as a way to fall asleep as well as put thought to my current dreams and writing ideas.

In the last few weeks, I’ve been going into my office late at night, throwing in a movie, typically some 80’s adventure movie like Romancing the Stone, dimming the lights and begin working on whatever creative project is current. I have designed a creative lair at my office and every day I add something new. Tonight it was a colorful, beaded Buddha that watches me from the corner of the room.

I always am most creative in the middle of the night, energized by the smell of the dark hours and the taste of mystery in the air. Tonight, I had planned to work on several interviews for our website, but instead I found myself going through a box of books I had brought into the office which had been housed in my basement for over three years.

At the bottom of the box were several blank journals with flowered covers, nothing I would ever use for myself. I laughed to myself realizing they were some remnant of my mother’s “wrapping station” where she kept dollar gifts she would give out at the last minute if someone had a birthday or party and she wanted to bring something such as a candle or a bookmark.

I laughed and quickly threw them into the trash, but something pulled at me and so I pulled them out, dusted them off and put them on my desk. After walking around my dark office for a few minutes I felt pulled back to those ridiculous journals and started thumbing threw them as I sipped a cup of strong coffee. Their clean, white pages stared back at me waiting to be filled.

Sitting down, I grabbed the first journal and quickly printed GIFTED on the first page. Underneath, I wrote instructions for the book indicating that “the purpose of this book is to give back to the world. Have you ever wished you could give a gift you couldn’t afford or seemed impossible? Or change someone’s life but didn’t have the power to do it? Now you can! Be as creative as you want. It’s all yours to give. And all that positive energy of giving is a gift in return. Write anywhere, anything, as much or as little as you want. There are no rules!”

I quickly turned to the middle of the book and wrote a picture of your first kiss. I turned back to the second page and wrote four front row tickets to The Grateful Dead when Jerry Garcia was still alive. And continued to write about ten more gifts. I closed the book, smiling, and placed it in the corner of the desk.

Picking up the second journal, I grabbed another marker and wrote WISHED on the first page. Below it I wrote “Have you ever wished for something and never got it and knew no matter how hard you tried you knew you’d never get it but it didn’t make a difference? The purpose of this book is to give life to our wishes and our dreams. No matter how big or how small. Be creative. Write anywhere, anything. There are no rules!” Spinning to the next page I quickly wrote To be debt free. To own a black Porsche with tinted windows. To have one more Christmas week with my mom in a cabin in Gatlinburg. And somewhere at the back of the book I wrote to finish my book and have it published.

I closed it and placed it on top of the other journal and walked into my client office, placing the books gently on the table, waiting to be filled by my clients.

I poured another cup of coffee, a sure fire way to fall asleep quickly, and came back into my office. I sat down and opened another book I had pulled from the box. SARK’s Make Your Creative Dreams Real. I read through the first 50 pages and closed the book, yawning, even though I was awakened by my immediate excitement. I had suddenly realized that the only thing holding me back from accomplishing my dreams was me.

It’s hard being a therapist sometimes because you often give advice you rarely take yourself even though it sounds so good flowing from your lips. I inspire and motivate my clients daily to accomplish their dreams. A year ago I even published a post about a “Dream Application”, stating that I would see anyone as a client for free who had a real dream, not a life change but a dream, they wanted to accomplish. I stated that I didn’t believe I was the overall master but I could be the guide for someone’s journey and if they were willing to listen to me and my guidance they could accomplish their dreams within a year. I don’t remember receiving even one concrete dream application…still waiting(And I’ll work by phone or Skype if you don’t live in my area!)

Often, I know what needs to happen to make other people happy and fulfilled, but I don’t do those same things for myself. Alex and I run a creative business on the side and we know exactly what we need to do to be successful, but we often become lazy and think too deeply about our next move. Dreams and creativity need to flow like juice from a pear down your neck, much like the wish and gift journals had come to me tonight, quickly and without hesitation.

For years, I’ve told clients, that with the exception of our physical attributes, har har, the only thing different between Tom Cruise and myself is that he showed up for the audition. And there is a lot of truth in that statement. Those people that are most successful in accomplishing their dreams are those that put action to their dreams instead of talking about what they want. Very few of us have dreams that are too big to be accomplished.

My mother always had three dreams she talked about with regularity. She wanted to be a trial attorney living on a houseboat in San Francisco Harbor. She wanted to work on a costume design team for movies, much like Edith Head for Alfred Hitchcock. And she wanted to finish writing a book. Well, she was definitely intelligent enough to be an attorney. She was creative enough to be a costume designer. And she finished writing half of her memoir, Dear Mick or Waiting on a Friend, a personal letter to Mick Jagger about the challenges of growing older as a woman. She could have accomplished any of these dreams. Fear stopped her cold in her tracks. Fear of change. Fear of being different. Fear of lack of acceptance. Maybe even fear of success.

What stops you from accomplishing your dreams? What is your dream? First you must recognize it and begin breathing life back into it’s lungs.

Tonight I filled the wall in front of my desk with inspirational reminders of things I want to do and accomplish for myself and our business to fulfill my dreams. I no longer will allow fear and laziness to keep me grounded and quivering with nothing to look back on but the regrets of things I never attempted to accomplish.

So expect to see my book at your local bookstore soon because I’m writing with a fury. Because we’re on borrowed time as it is…

what dreams may come…

I’ve gone through a lot of transitions in my life. A year ago, I was struggling with feeling as if I were really achieving anything that mattered in my life. Late one night I was sitting on the front porch, talking on the phone to my friend who had recently moved to Vegas. She and I were discussing the law of attraction and how we both believed that if you really wanted something and you visualized it, then it would happen for you in your life. In less than three months, she had payed off her debt, been offered amazing opportunities, accomplished an amazing career and was living her dream.

Even though I had nothing to want for I still did not feel as if I were living my dream.

She suggested that I should make a list of my dreams and write them down and visit them several times a day. As soon as I hung up the phone, I grabbed pen and paper and made a list of ten things I wanted to accomplish. The next day I woke up and completely forgot about the list.

Weeks went by and once again I found myself sitting on the front porch talking to her on the phone. “How are your dreams coming along.” She asked. I embarrassingly admitted not one of them had been fulfilled. “Did you write them down?” she asked. I quickly answered yes, almost resentful but happy for her at the same time, that her life continued to improve while my dreams continued to drown. “How often do you read them?” She asked. And there was the crux of the problem. I didn’t even know where they were…

“Put them in your phone.” she suggested. “Make sure you read them every day. Believe they will come true. If you don’t believe in your own dreams…who will.” She said.

And she was right. They were mine and if I wasn’t going to put them into action, why should I believe that anyone else would make my dreams happen. So, I grabbed my phone and made a note with my dream list. I called her back and she had me read the list to her over the phone. I was embarrassed that on the list, between have a loving relationship and pay off all of my debt, was a dream to drive a Porsche Cayenne. “Don’t be embarrassed.” She said. “They’re your dreams. Dream as big as possible!”

And so I did. I made a new list of ten things I wanted to accomplish. That was January. In the past six months, I have achieved six of my ten goals, and the other four are not accomplished because I haven’t pushed hard enough for them to happen. There is always a way.

At the top of my list is to complete a book and have it published. Almost everyday, I’ve been working on my memoir about my treatment experiences as well as having started a juvenile fiction book for teenage girls. It will happen. I just need to find a literary agent or a publisher who believes in me as much as I believe in myself. I’m a damn good writer and I have a story to tell. It will happen.

I use this attitude with my clients as well. Most don’t believe it’s that easy. I had a girl tell me the other day, “so, I’m 100 pounds overweight, but if I dreamed of being a supermodel, you’re telling me it could happen?” I showed her a picture of Velvet D’Amour, who walked her first runway show at 350 pounds who I had recently interviewed for my social website…one of my many dreams which has opened door after door. My client looked at me and said, “That could never be me.” And I replied, “not with that attitude.” But that was exactly the same attitude I had several months earlier.

Dreams are not accomplished alone…they take the collective work of many people. You have to share your dreams with others and ask for help. Everyone knows my desire to publish my book as well as they know I want to be out of debt. Everyone knows about my dream wedding…and EVERYONE knows about my desire to be in great shape! There has to be a sense of accountability to accomplish your dreams so others are as invested as you are. Other people will believe in you and in your dreams…if you ask them for help! It makes us feel good to help others accomplish their dreams. (Anyone who wants to help me with mine…come forth!)

I no longer believe that we can’t achieve our dreams. I simply believe that we are offered obstacles which are barriers we have to work around to make them happen. And when we accomplish those dreams…we must, as Oprah says, simply dream a bigger dream. And I’m already working on that list…because we’re on borrowed time as it is!

Lemonade Stands…Reminders for my Soul!

Last Friday while I was sitting outside of my office waiting for a client, I received a special visit from my friend Karen and her daughter Anna. They were walking through the small artsy area around my office and walking up and down the canal eating ice cream. After talking to them for several minutes, Karen explained to me that Anna was going to have a lemonade stand on Saturday. I asked Anna several questions about the stand, but her shyness kept her gripped to her mother’s leg, kicking dirt and sand at her feet. Before they left, I reached into my car and grabbed a dollar bill and two, plastic stretchy bracelets, giving them to Anna. “I won’t get to come to your lemonade stand, but I hope this will get you started in making a profit,” I smiled. Karen made Anna thank me and the two walked off down the street.

It made me miss my mom a little bit and I guess that’s the tough thing about good incidents. They make us remember the good times which in result, can make us sad about past times or current losses. I’m not really sure what made me grab the money and bracelets in my car. Honestly, I almost thought against it, because I thought it might come across as strange, but my mom, who I guess I was missing in that moment, always taught me to live in the moment. If you wanna dance, dance. If you wanna sing, sing. Life, as precious as it may be, is way too short.

The next day I received an email from Karen. “Hi, I want to thank you for giving Anna the bracelets and dollar…hopefully we will have fun today with the lemonade stand! Anyway, thought I’d share a photo of Anna’s sign for the stand. It is kind of hard to read…hopefully you can make it out. After we left you Anna decided that the cost of the lemonade should be either 2 stretchy bracelets or 25 cents…very cute!! She is hoping most people pay, like you did, with bracelets!!

Instantly, I began crying, something I’ve been doing much too often lately, but what the hell, it’s better to feel something than nothing at all. I think I began crying because I missed lemonade stands, and calling friends to come over and play. Most of all, I missed taking things, such as lemonade stands, very, very seriously.

We are all too serious about the wrong things today. I wonder what would happen if my friend Tonya and I set up a Crystal Light stand right on the corner between the Speedway and the Dairy Queen. And she would do it too! We’d sell two cheese sandwiches on white bread, a sweet gerkin pickle and a tall glass of lemonade all for a $2 bill. If you don’t have a $2 bill. Get lost. Peanut butter cookies would be five for an old, used paperback mystery. Refills would be free, in exchange for a good joke. If you bring your dog, they’d get a nice milk bone, but only if they can do a trick or sit like proper ladies and gentleman. Awww…we would take it very seriously.

I remember back in the day working at the treatment center, I worked with this amazing woman, and friend, named Kathy. She would have me rolling in stitches coming up with jobs that, if she chose to ever leave being a counselor, she could very easily move into a new role. These new jobs would be things like snow shack manager, or the person who writes the things on the church signs like “Jesus doesn’t trust a sinner”. I would laugh all night long, yet she was very serious. I really think she could imagine a world where that would work out great for her. And she was probably right. I miss her.

The great thing about children, being such magical creatures, is that they make up their own rules. Just listen to them. A glass of lemonade for two stretchy bracelets, as if that is perfectly reasonable. My friend Karen and I were talking about Anna’s school uniform that she was wearing and Karen told me that when she was in Catholic high school, they had to wear plaid skirts, but they could wear any kind of shirt they wanted to wear. So the girls would wear striped or colorful shirts, almost never matching their skirts, and this was all perfectly fine, unless they went to the dentist, and then they seemed out of whack.

We need to go back to those days of making up our own rules; in our jobs, in our relationships, in our lives. Some of the most interesting people I know make up their own rules. I dare my clients to dream and dream big. We only have one life. Who says you can’t be Jacques Cousteau, or a fairy princess or a Moonlighting Detective. Sometimes, I’m all three between 12 and four on a hot, August afternoon. And I’m 37!

Life…has become too serious. Tonight, I almost bought a huge bottle of bubbles and sidewalk chalk. Not for my adorable neighbor girls, but for me, because I’ve always wanted to draw with that huge chalk and make peace signs and houses with tall flowers, and windows peering into other worlds, all on the pavement of my driveway. But I didn’t. And now I think I’ll go back and get it tomorrow. Because I need to dream bigger too and make up my own rules. Maybe just maybe, I’ll start charging clients ten dollar’s less, but they have to bring me baked goods. Hmmmm…I don’t think my doctor would like that idea very well.

See…there I go, being all serious! To hell with it! Brownies and snickerdoodles it is…because, as you know we’re on borrowed time as it is!