So True

I was playing with Peanut Two yesterday and seeing how many of her senses she knew.

I asked her what she saw with and she pointed to her eyes.

I asked her what she heard with and she pointed to her ears.

I asked her what she smelled with and she pointed to her nose.

I asked her what she felt with and she look at me with her question mark face.

She thought about it for a while.

Then she pointed to her heart.

So true. . .

Good Vibrations

We are still on vacation and enjoying our time at the beach. Last night J and I went to see Sheryl Crow, with James Blunt as the opening act. It was a great show and really fun to get out and hear some music.

It got me thinking of the other time I saw Sheryl Crow. I went with a guy I knew from college who I almost, kind-of-sort-of dated for a while. The thing about him though was that he was incredibly jealous. At the time we met I thought Marky Mark was pretty hot. This guy was jealous of this crush. I mean, can you picture it:

I'm walking down a rainy street one day and there, before me (with no shirt on, of course) is Marky Mark.

We both stop, unable to look away.

Stars and hearts fill the air above our heads and we are magnetically pulled together by a force neither can explain.

We embrace and stare into each other's eyes.

He begins to do some back flips, lifts some weights, does a little dance . . . it's good like Sunkist. . . makes me want to know who done this.

Can you feel it, baby?

Wishing for Bea

I miss my Grandma today.

It's odd. The past year I have missed her so much and so often that my heart aches. While she is still alive, she has not known who I am for over ten years. It's hard even to put a finger on when the dementia started, but at the time I didn't realize how painful it could become.

I miss knowing her as I am now. I want to ask her questions and learn about her life in ways I couldn't even comprehend as a teenager or young adult. I want to hear her stories and learn history from her perspective. I want to see her smile and know she really sees me.

I want her to hold my children and understand they are hers too.

I'm not sure where the magic is in all of this. It is quite hard to see.

All I know is that I miss Grandma Bea with a rich sadness today.

A Mole Full of Love

I met my husband, J, almost nine years ago at a bar in Atlanta. Now with a courtship, a wedding, two kids, a house and a few job transitions under our belt it is sometimes hard to remember what I felt like when we met.

To be honest, as someone who relishes and craves alone time and a space of my own, I have to admit I'm still adjusting to having a constant 'roommate'. Yet, as I reflect on our early times together and remember the excitement, the wonder and the elation, I do believe it was magic that we met.

Of course the coincidences float back sometimes:

* Neither of us frequented the place we met prior to the fateful night.

* As we got to know each other, it was apparent we had been at many of the same parties and events.

* Stranger was that his family (a solid Midwestern bunch) were avid Yankees fans - a plus for a girl from Jersey.

* It was even odd that my mother said he reminded her of her father - a man who died when I was very young.

Yet this morning as I was getting ready I caught my back in the mirror and saw the true reminder. I happen to have a big ol' mole on my back. It's not something I was especially fond of in my life - if it had been on my front side I probably would have removed it.

But J has an exact replica on his back.

I know you are thinking . . . yikes . . . she sees moles as a sign of fate . . . what's up with this gal?

But it is true - whenever I see one of our moles I am reminded of my connection to J and oddly wonder if our children will grow up with a similar, physical expression of their link to us and our love.

I do believe it is magic. . .