Behind my house, on my neighbor's property, stand several pine trees. In the past six plus years of living here, these trees have caught my eye again and again. Not just because they are majestic and hold memories longer than my own. They capture my attention, because they dance!

Five weeks ago marked the last time I sat with a client in my office. With the power of Zoom and the phone, I am still working. One might think I'd be busier than ever, because there's such uncertainty, and generally we humans fear the unknown. But, of course, for me and my husband - like many of you - only the foggy crystal ball holds the mysteries about how money will flow as we cross this strange bridge together.

I thought I'd be in Los Angeles right now, on a personal writing retreat, and attending another "Something to Say" workshop. I suspect you had plans to be some place other than where you are at the moment, too.

I find myself suffering from another election hangover. Perhaps not as intense as the 2016 presidential election, but Super Tuesday knocked my pins out from under me. The sadness is real.

On January 31st, I returned from an extraordinary adventure in Sri Lanka. This trip offered a richness of food, culture, experiences, and lessons. I'm likely to unwind and include some of these in newsletters to come.  First, I'd like to share about driving in Sri Lanka. 

It's become fashionable to select a word for the year, and see what comes of having that word as a touchstone for 365 days running. I coupled it with a practice of noticing what other words popped into my consciousness, asking for further definition. As those meanings revealed themselves, I scribbled them on scraps of paper, collecting a petite, potent pile.

Occasionally, moments of brilliance grasp my being. This wisdom, far greater than I possess, channels through the ethers to locate a conveyance system. On Thanksgiving eve, a reminder of the wondrous ways the universe works tapped me on the shoulder. This particular nudge arrived in the form of "A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood."

It's funny, as I think about many of the stories I share with you, I'm aware I often tell you about the hard stuff. Where I've fallen down. The times I question who I am, and whether I'm capable. When I reflect, the material sounds like a total bummer! Why don't I spend every month telling you about how amazing my life has become?

Mark and I have dear friends, with whom we conspire to use our four birthdays, as grounds for having fun. One beautiful August evening, after Norma treated us to a scrumptious dinner, we strolled the sidewalks of Boston to a secret destination. Only I knew of the mysterious gift event, planned as belated celebration of Walter and Mark's July birthdays.

He wrote, "I thought a swan was a girl duck."

I responded, "OMG - didn't you ever read 'The Ugly Duckling?' I think you may need to!"

"That's where it gets confusing! Doesn't the ugly duckling become a beautiful swan? How does a duck become a swan?" he asked.

For several years, I've been experiencing a kind of time travel. Easily, this might be attributed to the many time zones visited, or with age, a loss of memory for what day of the week it is. But, I think it's bigger than that. In my entire life, running consistently on time is something someone else does. I bend “late.”