I am SO not ready for this yet!!@#*!*

I thought all this aging stuff, and change in general, was supposed to start happening to people in the 70's. Or 80's. Not now. And certainly.... CERTAINLY.... not to me.

My nails stop growing at about a quarter of an inch long because at that length they break off (bad thing). I'm getting those little red skin spots (ugh--really bad thing). These little 'thick' spots are appearing on my collar bone (weird bad thing). A few white eyebrow hairs have shown up (pluckable bad thing). My upper arms started looking just a little like cottage cheese (dimply bad thing). When did the erosion lines appear running down into my cleavage (now come on! bad thing)?? What happened to perky by the way (bewildering bad thing).Eyelashes fall out (not-great-for-mascara bad thing). I remember stuff half of the time on one day(frustrating bad thing) and everything the next (frustrating good thing). And those red-old-lady-skin-dots (UGH! bad thing).

In all fairness I feel compelled to balance the argument: The hair on my head is growing faster than ever before (my stylist even mentioned it good thing). The hair on my legs hardly grows at all (time-saver good thing). I weigh 2 more pounds than I did at high school graduation (no joke good thing). I am lifting weights to combat the dimplies (take that! good thing). My knuckles aren't big yet (alleluia good thing). My nearsidedness is sharper than ever (great for reading good thing). And speaking of cleavage (underwires: priceless good thing). Still have tons of energy (fantastic good thing).

The few gray hairs on my head never bothered me because those can be hidden in so many clever ways, right, everyone? I've tried a few and praise the inventor of dye. Obviously your gene pool is ever so important to give you the interior framework to support whatever gilding you prefer to apply to the exterior. Eating right, exercising, drinking water all help. (blah blah blah) So be smart and treat yourself right, Girls.

Oh, ah, could you wait just a second or two while I...crunch chew chew crunch chew swallow. There. Sorry! My peanut M&M's were calling. Scientists will one day prove what I already know. Chocolate is a food group all its own and eases all sorts of stress and angst. Personally I find it more soothing than wine. Takes the edge off for me. Gives a person a much better perspective, makes the world a little bit brighter and their little anxieties easier to handle. Now, where are those tweezers of mine.....?

Daniel -- Profoundly Faithful

During his Palm Sunday sermon yesterday our pastor, Dave Bogue, referenced the book of Daniel several times. I remembered the story of Daniel surviving the lions den and his three friends walking out of the blazing hot furnace but not much else.

This morning I pulled out my new Life Application Study Bible and turned to Daniel located in the Old Testament. This edition fascinates me because of all the referenced historical and biblical background material provided at the bottom of each page. Did you realize Daniel, his three friends as well as all of the other prisoners chosen after Nebuchadnezzar defeated Jerusalem, had to walk over 500 miles to reach Babylon? I didn't. Intrigued I started reading this testament to pure faith. No artificial veneer. No false pretenses. They trusted beyond all measure, resolving to hold on to their integrity, discipline and belief in the Lord no matter the earthly cost.

Made me reflect, not just by staring in the mirror but looking deep down inside into who I am. I pray. I listen. I ask for guidance. Wisdom. Answers. Bring people and situations before God when my heart is heavy, as well as in celebration. I say 'thank you' as often as I can, don't you? (I know I'd like to hear the appreciation if I were He.) Keep the Golden Rule in front of me at all times.

But not enough. That is the bottom line I had to truthfully face. I could do more. Do it better.

I am in awe of these four men who did not bend their values, were respected by their earthly king and saved because it by their heavenly father. If ever I am tested to those extremes, I do pray that I will be able to walk steadfastly in the shoes of those gone before me, serving as another example of discipleship with unfailing trust, a full heart and unwavering love.

Me, the Mall and the Space Station

A week and a half ago I was watching the 6 O'clock News. The weather man announced that the International Space Station would be passing over around 9pm that night. "Look for a white light moving northwest to northeast." Ok. I'll keep it in mind. I like to see stuff like that. Made salads for supper. Did the dishes. Decided to go the gym.

I was riding the bike, reading as usual, when I remember what I'd heard. Glanced at the clock on the wall. 8:55. Plenty of time. Curious I decided to check it out. Left my book and towel on the seat and walked outside. The sky was absolutely cloudless. Dry air. Clear as could be. The most beautiful dark sapphire blue color. Perfect for station gazing.

I made my way to the center of the big parking lot trying to put myself in-between the tall light posts where I would have the best vantage point. Still wasn't real dark but it would have to do. Better with my hands up shielding my eyes. Started looking up and to my left. I had no idea if the 'bright, white light' would be low, close to the horizon line or high above me or even somewhere in the middle.

There! Oh, my gosh! It was white and it was bright and it was coming right at me at a decent clip from my left side. The station was easy to spot and it was alot bigger than I expected. In fact it was much larger than some airplanes you spot flying at higher altitudes. I found myself walking straight ahead on a 90 degree intercept to its movement so this incredible wonder of modern science would float right over my head.

Felt like good karma or something. I watched it continue on until the light faded, then disappeared. Just me. All alone with the space station. In a parking lot. Feeling very, very cool.

Jesse James, Sandra Bullock and a Cliche'

As soon as the news broke about Jesse's infidelity I told my husband if I was Sandra I would have looked that creep in the eye, pointed my finger right up in his face and said "Thanks for reducing this marriage and my career down to one stupid, bound-to-be-repeated-a-million-times cliche: Talk about being blindsided. Really, Jesse, great job. Thanks. Thanks a whole @#* lot."

She hasn't been seen nor heard from since the crap hit the fan and her life as she knew it splintered into a million pieces. Hopefully someone on the magazine staff with a kind heart called to give her the heads-up so she had time to get away before the mad feeding frenzy began. After her heartfelt, emotional speech at the Oscars (with Jesse sitting in the audience with puppy dog eyes moist with unshed tears.....gag me) how stupid, betrayed, raw, bewildered, enraged, embarrassed, foolish and used she must feel.

Here she was on location out of state, filming a movie, earning a paycheck. (Before marriage was Sandra in headlines due to promiscuous behavior, clubbing 'til 3am, getting stupid traffic tickets, shoplifting, dressing like a wench ~ the usual stylings of a steriotypical Hollywood bimbo? No. She worked hard at her craft and kept a lower profile.) And her husband is back home acting 'entitled' shall we say (Hmmm....seems to be going around these days...maybe 'ole Jesse will ne the one to sign up for therapy this week) on a couch in his garage. Ouch! Talk about sad irony.

Granted her hubby was married to a porn star, works on choppers/cars, is tatooed from here to there. All the usual 'bad boy' stuff. Clues to behavior? Who's to say. Sometimes love just sucks. Even when the lady is doing all the right things, the choices made by others can muck everything up. I give her credit -- she was willing to give her heart. Too bad the recipient just didn't understand the true value of the gift.

The Yellow Purse, the French, and Easter

I was getting in my car to go grab a bite for lunch and I saw this girl across the parking lot sling her purse up onto her shoulder. It was a yellow leather bag and the color caught my eye. Wasn't anything super special. Didn't match her shoes or her belt. Didn't really match anything at all truth be told. Just a cute bag. That was yellow.

POW. Yellow. Shoulder strap. Up out of ... well, I'm not sure where the 'where' actually is (or was) ... this niggling thought reared its head, rudely poking me (more like an annoying pestering really) in the memory department. SNAP. I caught a flash of a yellow purse on my brain screen. Square-ish kind of shape. Bright yellow. Quilted. Something long....long..... forgotten. My curiosity was peeked. A square-ish, bright yellow, quilted, shoulder bag that I obviously had. Sometime. In this lifetime. Hunger pangs would have to wait --I had a mystery to solve.

I sat in my car letting the 'ole memory run a background check. I got a glimpse of some kind of pattern on the material. And the feeling it was from my high school days. Dig, brain, dig, because now I was definitely determined to filter through all the layers in the gray matter filing cabinet to try and figure it out. Like taking two hands and digging in the sand at the beach to find some hidden kind of treasure. Almost there.... just a few more seconds....getting the sense that I've almost unlocked the mystery and.....FLASH!! It was like I had a fuzzy snapshot jump off the page of some forgotten album, complete with old-style serrated edges and the words "In Front of the Eiffel Tower" written on the white border. ...and was that me with the haunting yellow quilted bag hung on my shoulder??!!?

Oh, my. I probably thought it was just the PERFECT accessory for my bright yellow canary coat that I took along as well on the spring break trip my senior year with a group of fellow French students, assuming (sorry, no cable Weather Channel existed then) the weather would want to cooperate and be pleasant because: it was the week of Easter; everyone puts away their dark winter clothes and reaches for wonderful spring shades and fabrics; we all want to think about blooming bulbs, blue skies, and warm sunshine. RIGHT? Well, let me tell you that would be everyone except the entire French population which, as I found out Easter morning attending mass at Notre Dame, thoroughly intended to cling to their drab putty gray and ugly nondescript brown overcoats well beyond that landmark Sunday. I'm telling you I looked like some poor lost canary surrounded by a herd (yes, a herd) of the somber old, dull morning doves. Oh, geez. Did I look just a little tiny bit out of place or what?

Well, let me make an announcement: Wake up, people!!! This is Paris -- You know: P-A-R-I-S. City of Light. THE the fashion capitol of the planet. Ring any bells!??!! Home to Chanel and Yves St Laurent. Hellloooo!!? I guess someone forgot to inform the natives. And, above all, we were celebrating the gift of eternal life. The greatest sacrifice given, the greatest love ever shared. Ever heard of it?? Guess not. And sober?? All glad hearts and smiles must have been prohibited by law. Oh! And don't forget to include bright colors in that as well.

Bet I made a big impression. Bet I shook their world. Nah. On second thought they probably went home and gossiped about the crazy American girl who must have been out of her mind. Wear yellow on Easter? Are you nuts? And happy? Who ever heard of that? Too bad I didn't have any marshmallow Peeps to pass out. That woulda drove 'em right over the edge, like lemmings to the sea. Talk about a Kodak moment worth capturing.

Hair -- the LEAST of My Worries!!

When I entered the salon on Tuesday night my hair was 6 inches longer than when I left two hours later. The color had gone from pretty darned blond to a darker blond with some lighter blond woven highlights. (When I was leaving another stylist saw me and sucked in her breath and stared -- "You cut all her hair off!!!")

I was ready for a change...or so I thought. Four days later I'm still trying to figure out what to do with this shorter length that now gentle curls just under my ear lobes. I've experimented with a curling iron, hot rulers, and just plain straight.

Still shock myself when I catch my reflection in a mirror. Not comfortable at all with this look I haven't sported in over eight years. Gone is my ponytail tied with classic grosgrain ribbons. The varied collection of clips and barrettes lie idle on the shelf. No chignons possible now. I am just as confident with or without the long locks. But my self-image has changed because I still catch myself lifting my hand to flip the ends over my shoulder as I lean over or go to gather the entire mass to clip up while at the gym as always was my habit.

This new do -- Does it make me look younger? Older? Updated? So far the reviews have been stellar, applauding my decision. I still have my reservations.

But you know what?? Hair grows. It is one of those wonderful things in our life that doesn't change....just goes on and on. The Earth didn't stop turning because of Tuesday night. I'm not scarred. Didn't lose a limb. Not blinded or lost my sight or life. As an old co-worker used to say, "There's just a few days between a good and a bad haircut." So simple yet so true. Bad dye job? Try again. Uneven? Trim it. Too short? Just wait those few days.

Hair. It defines us. Drives us crazy. Makes us feel like a queen. A sexy siren. Or grounds us and makes us realize we are beautiful just as we are.