All life is a road from the past to the future. And what the future will be depends only on us.

I’m drained. Happy and in a good mood, but wiped out. Work is stupid-crazy again and my creativity has taken a leave of absence. Yesterday I read this blog , then this one . I found them in this list . I feel like shedding my skin and replacing it with a soft, fleecy bathrobe and sleeping for 73 hours. I go home for lunch. (A wise move, since I am greeted upon my return with an enormous pile of work and a project manager hovering over my chair who screeches, “There you are! I’ve been stalking you!”) As soon as I step inside our house, I am calmer. In control of something, even if it’s only what I eat for lunch. As I sit at the kitchen table, I debate freelancing. I call Jason to tell him about a mallard and his lady friend who are sitting primly in our backyard. I take a quick picture of them and they fly away noisily. I hope they return. Our flowers are starting to bloom and I take pictures of them too, even though the peony buds aren’t open and the 90% dead rosebush is now only 80% ...

Memories It’s that time again. Time to watch the candidates go at it. Time for everyone to take sides. Time for those so inclined to declare, “I’m right. You’re wrong.” When we’re in the heart of an election year, a little pit grows in my stomach. (You can’t see it, though, because it’s crowded out by the Oreos.) I just don’t like the way it all plays out. Never have. Facebook gives us a new insight into everyone’s political leanings, too. It’s the perfect forum for posting those sweeping “All conservatives are (fill in the blank)” and “All liberals are (fill in the blank).” Time for the arguments to begin. I can almost hear keyboards across the nation screaming… “I’M RIGHT!!” “NO, I’M RIGHT!!” “NO, I’M RIGHT!!” And just like Pee Wee, I want to scream, “I KNOW YOU ARE, BUT WHAT AM I??” Just to alleviate the tension a bit. It makes me sad. Truly, it does. And do I have a good answer? Nope. I just feel in my heart that we’re missing the point. And what do I think the point is? Love. Acce...

 It’s a strange feeling to know that he is dead. The man who caused so much suffering, so much hatred, so much turmoil, mistrust, and grief. His life was about ending the lives of others whose views he could not understand or tolerate. And now, Osama bin Laden’s own end has come. After a long and arduous wait, America is breathing a collective sigh of relief. My boys are celebrating. It’s a “Black Ops” kind of day for them — hunt down the bad guy, shoot to kill, win the game. But the game is far from won. I am not sad that he is gone. I dreamt last night of the widows and widowers of 9/11. Of the children growing up without parents, of the mothers and fathers who lost their own, of the friends, the families, the numerous loved ones left behind to grapple with such pain and devastation. I will never claim to know the magnitude of their loss. And if today’s headline news gives them some sense of closure, then I would never begrudge them that tiny slice of peace. But in my heart of he...