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The Dreams That You Dare To Dream

Judy Garland said it best: The dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.

But why is the word DARE in there? Shouldn’t dreaming be easy?

It used to be, when we were kids. I was reminded of that this weekend as I drove my daughter 7 hours across Michigan to a performing arts camp. At the tender age of 10, she is one of those lucky souls who already has a dream that lifts and dazzles and moves her as tangibly as a pair of sky-high red heels. It’s inspiring to see, and hear, her in action; all the world (and house, and car) is her stage.

Flowers For The Asking

A few days ago, my friend Mark was feeling depressed and decided to stop at Trader Joe’s and buy himself some flowers. When he told the woman at the check-out why he needed flowers, she insisted on buying them for him.

Random act of kindness? Sure.

But it’s also a reminder that asking begins as an inner dialogue. Mark asked himself, “What do I need to feel more loved and supported today?”

What Are You Asking For?

A couple of weeks ago my neighbor helped me hang a bird feeder right outside my sun room window. This is where I spend most of my day, and I was excited about getting such a close view of the birds. I pictured sparrows and finches—dainty little things with soft colors and timid tweets. And for the first two weeks, that’s what I got.

Until yesterday, when this big black ominous-looking bird with an iridescent blue head came swooping in, landing so forcefully on the feeder that it thumped loudly against the house. He sat there for a long time, laying claim to the suet, and when he flew away it was only to the nearby tree, where he perched most of the day.

He made me uneasy, although I’m not sure why. He’s just a bird, eating at a bird feeder. I got what I wanted, but it didn’t look like I’d expected.

Does Your ‘Ask’ Need a Kicking?

I want to share a pet peeve of mine: when I listen to people call in to one of my favorite radio hosts, so many of them say, “I have a question for you,” or “Here’s my question…” and then they don’t ask a question! They tell a story.

Maybe there’s something slippery about the curvy question mark. Either we put it on the end of what should be statements, or we leave it out altogether and tell ourselves we’re being clear in our requests.

A friend shared recently that he was upset about having to clear his belongings out of his basement to make room for his wife’s things.

“Did you ask her to consider a different solution?” I said.

“Well, I told her that I was upset,” he answered.

What Color is My Parachute? And Does it Match My Shoes?

I made an appointment today to be evaluated by a vocational expert. What fun! At long last I’ll find out if my current job as stay-at-home-mom has earned me any street cred, or if, in fact, serving sausage patties 20 years ago at Bob Evans was the apex of my career.

This amusing little diversion is being “offered” to me compliments of my estranged husband, who was kind enough to bring this matter before a judge, who was gracious enough to pen the invitation on fancy paper with a Cook County logo on it, and even stamp it with a fancy stamp.

nothing

Theme-Free Living : Let’s Talk About Nothing

You know those scenes in action movies where the hero rolls under the gigantic steel door just before it slams shut? That’s how I’m getting this April blog in….just under the wire. And not because I’ve been out saving the world. More like I’ve been saving myself. From what or for what has been unclear. So unclear that the only theme I considered for April was THE UNKNOWN. But since the unknown makes me uncomfortable, I scrapped that idea.

How Going Viral Leads to Dis-Ease

In last week’s newsletter, I asked readers to take a peek at my first article as guest author on DivorcedMoms.com. I was at 1,300 views and hoping to earn a bronze star on that site.

Fast forward (and I mean fast)… that blog was picked up and featured on the Huffington Post’s Divorce page, then picked up by HP Germany and today appeared in Australia’s IVillage.

The DM editor told me I’d gone viral. No wonder I’m feeling a little dizzy and having trouble catching my breath.

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