I AM 40

Time flies when you're turning forty and forty days have never passed so quickly. I started the journey to the big day with the intention of doing three things. One, I tried to prepare myself for this milestone birthday and enter my new decade gracefully. Two, I uncovered a little bit of my past, dealt with some of my present and looked ahead into the future. And three, I stretched myself beyond limits over the last month or so as a reminder that, quite frankly, I AM... every woman.

As my friend Diane said, I have been saying that I was "almost 40" for months. It was sort of a mental game I played so that when it came time to say "I'm 40," it would just roll off the tongue a little easier. I like how it sounds honestly. I am 40. It's the look of it that still frightens me and gets me a little choked up. And that proves one thing. Age really is just a number.

It's the number that gets my panties in a bunch. It's the number that worries me and scares me and tortures me when I am standing in the checkout line at Shop'n'Save perusing the magazines. The number 40 is big. While it's name is short, the number is wide and it takes up space on a page. But what does 40 really mean?

In the bible, 40 is a significant number. It is the product of 5 and 8, which according to some scholars "points to the action of grace (the number 5), leading to and ending with revival and renewal (the number 8)."  So 40 means grace, revival and renewal. Also, in the bible, when God decided he wanted to cleanse the earth and start over, it rained for 40 days and 40 nights. Goliath came for 40 days before David took him out. The Israelites spent 40 years in the desert before entering the promised land. So 40  means starting over. It means victory over giant problems. 40 means no more wandering.

In math, 40 is a semi perfect number. The plant Venus forms a pentagram in the night sky every eight years but returns to it's original point every 40 years. In science, 40 is the number of zirconium which is known for it's resilience to corrosion. In football, the measure of the 40-yard dash is critical in scouting and the jersey number 40 has been retired by 10 teams in the NBA, Major League Baseball and the NFL.

40 is a big deal. And I am 40. I embrace all that it means, all that it stands for and all that it holds for me over the next year.

Day 39: Ride 'Em Cowboy

 Tonight, I sang the national anthem for the Professional Bullriders Association (PBR). The ins and out of the PBR are fascinating and they treated me well. My nephew shadowed me all evening and he loved every moment from checking out the bulls to walking through the dirt-filled arena. I love having my nephew with me when I sing more than anything. He understands the importance of what I do and he absorbs the details of each event and appreciates the experience. This gig might have been the highlight of the last year for me and ranks right up at the top with singing for NASCAR's 60,000 people a few years ago.

And the bonus for this almost 40-year-old? Cowboys. Everywhere. In chaps. Lord have mercy!

Day 38: My Advice for Men

Today, I left the house to go get Aleve and I ended up with a double bacon cheeseburger and a Snickers bar. That's just a sampling of how a woman's mind sometimes works. Let me reassure you, gentlemen, it is no secret to us that we are sometimes complicated and difficult to understand. That's rather obvious. So here are the top ten things, I want you to know.

10. It is not the position of the toilet seat that gets me riled. It is when I sit down in the dark bathroom in the middle of the night and my butt plunges into the water that makes me cranky.

9. Sharing blankets should not be a requirement in a relationship. Sharing warm hugs should be. And a girl cannot ever have enough hugs. In fact, a hug can be your get out of jail free card when you have no idea what to say.

8. There are times, however, when a hug is not going to work. You will know when that is when you hear these four words: we need to talk. Hugs are not getting you out of that one.

7. Proactivity is your friend. Doing anything before a woman asks you to, gives us the shivers. It's pure joy. In fact, it's practically foreplay.

6. My 8 year old nephew said it best when he suggested that men should never ask other men for advice about women. Ask a woman. Not a woman you are attracted to, of course, but a sister or an ugly neighbor or something.

5. Eventually, she will stop waiting for you. Waiting for you to get your act together... Waiting for you to settle down... Waiting for you to do what you say you are going to do... So, if you like it, you probably should put a ring on it. Beyonce is right.

4. And sometimes, you gotta do what's best for you. Period. Don't be a whipping boy.

3. Stop believing that nonsense that you've been hearing about how women don't really mean what they say. When I say, "I'm fine," I mean it. When I say, "I don't know" or "I don't care," it's because I sure as heck don't know and I really don't care.

2. All women are crazy. At times. We all have our moments.

1. We aren't all as complicated as you think. Sometimes you gotta take us at face value. And it might be best for you to stop trying to figure women out. (Maybe we should do the same.)

Day 37: You Don't LOOK 40

"You don't look like you're 40."

I hear that all the time. Then I get up as close as possible to the bathroom mirror and stare at the bumps on my skin and the wrinkles in my forehead and the gaping pores on my cheeks and I see a forty year old woman. It's amazing how the body forsakes you as you grow old. The skin doesn't bounce back like it used to and the joints take a while to warm up some days. On those days I feel like a forty year old woman.

But then I look around the world and wonder. What does a forty year old woman look like? Does she look like Mary J. Blige or Sandra Oh? Does she look like Christina Applegate or Jada Pinkett Smith? Yes, yes, she does. And she looks fabulous.

I return to my mirror. I examine the scars and dark circles under my eyes and that one white eyebrow hair. Wait! Is that REALLY a white hair in my left eyebrow? Yes, it is. I suppose it's providing a balance for the dusting of white that has appeared along my hairline above my right eye. What does a 40 year old woman look like? What is she supposed to be? Does she look like me? Yes, yes she does. And she looks fabulous.

Day 36: Too Old For Homework

A couple of years ago, I decided to return to college to earn my Master of Arts degree. I had sworn for years that I would never go back to school. I wasn't good at it the first time, mostly because I was bored. Things have to make sense to me... They have to resonate within me... They have to feel like a part of my natural or common sense or I eventually lose interest. The only exception is if I am entertained. But the second time around has been the greatest gift I could have given myself.

Continuing my education has obvious benefits but the experience that I didn't think would change my life or affect my future was the interaction with fellow students. This semester has been so enjoyable. I have learned so much from the people around me and I've enjoyed them so much that I wonder how I will learn without them in future classes. They have all been so willing to open up and share their experiences, their opinions and their feelings and so willing to hear mine.

There are days when I feel like I am too old for homework and too old to go racing around town from work to school to home and back again. But then I get to class and I feel young again. I feel like it's never too late to do what you want to do. And I know, once again, that you should never say never.

Day 35: Letters Between Today & Me

Dear Michele,

I hope you enjoyed the fifth last day before you turn the big 4-0. I did my best to make sure that, after you woke up late, the traffic was stacked up on the highway from your entrance to your exit. I know you have a fondness for other drivers on busy roadways. And don't mind thanking me for concealing that dvd of INCEPTION between your car seats that was actually due back at Blockbuster two weeks ago. I thought you might enjoy a little hide and seek. Because I thought it would balance out your day, I was happy to put enough road blocks in your way to cause your commute home to last an hour and make you late for dinner out with your parents. And as the icing on the cake, I am welcoming you home with a water main break that will likely not be fixed by morning.

Sincerely,

Today
------------------------------------------------
Dear Today,

Eat it.

Sincerely,

Michele

Day 34: National Holidays

I did not spend the day honoring former presidents. I'm not sure if that's what you are supposed to do on President's Day or not. I know that on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, you are supposed to volunteer or help humanity in some way. And on the 4th of July we barbecue and shoot off fireworks and on Labor Day, we do the same. I guess my point is that I'm not sure the original intention of these national holidays has been maintained over the years and that, for me, they mostly just guarantee that I get a day off once a month. I'm pretty sure that unless you are in elementary school, learning about the reasons for those days off that most of us are not in touch with the purpose nor are we fulfilling it.

There are many who believe that we don't have enough national holidays. Many more people argue that there are people who have changed the world who deserve their own day. Some people think we should eliminate some national holidays or rename that. Even I've though that. But if we had a national holiday for every person or group of people who deserved it, we need more days in the year.

So maybe we should just re-evaluate a little. Take the day off for the reason initially intended or use the time to volunteer or do something that makes it worthwhile. Or worth more than just sleeping in.

Day 33: Surround Yourself

On New Year's Eve, I had a brief conversation with my cousin about how important it is to surround yourself with the right people. It is critical to your happiness and your success. The right people push you to achieve beyond your perceived potential. They encourage you to broaden your horizons, expand your knowledge, grow your thought processes and open yourself up to life's possibilities.

My cousin, speaking of his own life experiences said, when you are surrounded by people who want to go to Harvard, you want to go to Harvard and when you are around scientists who are working hard, you want to work hard. If you haven't guessed, my cousin is the scientific brilliance in our family and he has proven by action, not by words, that putting yourself in the position to succeed is the most important step toward being successful.

I wish I would have had such insight 20 years ago but it's never too late to pull people into your life who will edify you and push you to become who you want to be. Six days away from 40 years old seems like a good time to reassess and review and make some cuts or repair some damaged relationships. Sounds like a lofty goal or a daunting task but picking up the phone doesn't feel all that hard.

Day 32: A Day at the Salon

When I was a little girl, my mom spent Saturday mornings at the beauty shop. The 4-station shop would be filled every week with the same women who had standing appointments with their stylists. I can still smell the perm solution in the air. and hear the ladies laughing. It was a day out. A day made for socializing, not just getting your hair set.

 In the back room, a box filled with donuts sat the counter. Every week, I grabbed either french donut with vanilla icing or a chocolate covered long john. While my mom had her hair washed and rolled and teased out into her bouffant, I would sit under a dryer and read books or play with my dolls. Every once in a while, my sister and I would get our hair cut and rolled too. It felt like such a treat.

Yesterday, I visited my wonderful hair stylist Jamie. The place was buzzing with Saturday clients. Nearly every seat was filled. Chatter danced in the air below the sound of blaring blow dryers. It was so reminiscent of the old days when ladies gathered every weekend to catch up on the neighborhood gossip and get pretty for the week ahead. The face-to-face catching up and the human contact so often gets replaced these days by social media. God knows I love my facebook and tumblr and twitter and all that other stuff but... It reminded me that I must take time out for the little things that make you feel more in touch with the world.

Day 31: Laughter is the Best Everything

"If laughter came in pill form, I would be a drug dealer." ~me

I subscribe to the believe that laughter is the best medicine but even when you are not ailing or sad, there is still room for laughter in your life. I love that I don't always know where the laughter will come from and that sometimes it's arrival is unexpected. It makes me giddy when I think about times when I've tried not to laugh but couldn't help myself.

I'm a loud laugher. Sometimes, I've tried to stifle it or laugh a little more quietly but isn't laughter meant to be boisterous and interrupting?

They say that you lose weight when you laugh. If that were true I would be as skinny as a rail. They also say that laughter reduces stress, strengthens your immune system, refocuses you away from stuff that's not so good. Most importantly, it has been proven that laughter connects people. And in many cases it REconnects them.

I am thankful that in the last couple of years, the people from my past have become the people of my present and that in all things, it's laughter that reconnects us. It's laughter that encourages us to get together again, like Friday night when I had dinner with some girls from high school. We laughed from the beginning of the night until the end of the night. People stared at us like we were wrong for enjoying out time together. But that did not deter us from reveling in our humor.

We should all laugh more. Let me know if you need the hook up. I might be able to help you out.

Day 30: TEN DAYS

TEN DAYS UNTIL THE BIG DAY! The words flashed across the screen on my phone. About one year ago, I set up a countdown on my phone for my birthday and the reminder was set for ten days out. My how a year flew by!

Remember when you were a little kid and being a grown up seemed like FOREVER away from 5 or 6 or how ever old you were at the time? I couldn't imagine turning 13 and being a teenager for the first time. And then I wished away time until my 16th birthday when my dad showed up at school in the silver Chevy Citation he'd bought for me. (He got it at a place called "Rent-a-Wreck." I wrecked in two weeks later.)

Eighteen was only significant because I got to vote in my first presidential election that year. I voted for the first George Bush. I thought I was a Republican back then. And of course I was an adult so if Pat Baker asked me to run away with him in his Mitsubishi truck to chase his dreams of playing professional soccer, I would be allowed to MAKE MY OWN decision to go.

Twenty-one came too soon. My college basketball team, along with the men's team, took me out that night. We went to Hacienda and John Ross bought me a cement mixer. My biggest accomplishment after that was not throwing up. Once you hit twenty-one the big milestones of life are 30, 40, 50... The birthdays that come every ten years. But there aren't any real expectations for those birthdays except that they won't come any time soon.

Then one day, you are awakened by tiny bells and a message that blasts TEN DAYS UNTIL THE BIG DAY. And it's only ten days until your 40th birthday.

Day 29: Standing for Stan Again

Originally, I planned to use this space to ream Albert Pujols, his camp and the St. Louis Cardinals for allowing their contract negotiations to turn into a circus of selfishness and greed. But then, Stan Musial received the Medal of Honor. Oh yeah! Stan Musial received the Medal of Honor in Washington D.C., from the President of the United States!

There are hundreds of stories out there about the ceremony and Mr. Musial's reaction so I won't bore you with repetition. But I wanted to share a quick story about the day I met Mr. Musial myself.

Roger Dean Stadium in Florida invited me to sing the national anthem on opening day of St. Louis Cardinals Spring Training. Prior to the game, the staff escorted me to the field where I waited for about 20 minutes until game time. As they prepared for the pregame ceremonies, Hall of Famers streamed out of the dugout. First, Hall of Fame announcer Jack Buck stepped out and promptly introduced himself to me. As if that was necessary... He was followed by Lou Brock and Bob Gibson and Red Schoendienst. And finally, Stan Musial arrived. They were all so kind. And I stood in awe as they shook hands with one another and waved to the crowd. I am rarely star struck but I understood that I was in the presence of men who had made history.

The anthem was sung and as I exited the field, a sweet older woman grabbed my arm. "That was the most beautiful anthem I've ever heard," she said. I spoke to her for a moment, thanked her and headed on my way. Later that night, my friend Cindy and I ate dinner at my favorite Italian restaurant in West Palm Beach. As we were being seated, the same older woman came around the corner and recognized me. She was Lillian Musial, Stan's wife. Again, she stopped me and introduced me to her husband. He was a seemingly gentle man and very kind. He complimented me briefly but generously then collected his wife and left.

Today, I am standing up for Stan again just like the campaign that helped him get the Medal of Honor. Let us put our focus into recognizing moments like this that are honorable and worthy of praise and consideration. Let us not contribute to the energy that might make another man's quest for an obscene amount of money overshadow something great.

I often say that it is time for us as a country and a world and a people in general to return to the simpler things. The way to do that is to look back at what came before you and live your life in appreciation of it. Take note Albert. And all of you other baseball players too.

Day 28: The Tiny Red Glove

Walking down the street in May of 2008, I stumbled upon a tiny red glove. I nearly crushed it with my gigantic foot but the bright red popped off of the beige concrete and grabbed my attention. The glove rested neatly on the ground and I leaned over to examine it. Traces of dried leaves and grass clung to the cotton. Perhaps it had fallen out of a woman's pocket as she fumbled for her keys or maybe it leaped out of a child's book bag as he hurried home from school. I stared at it for a moment before I realized that almost every finger of the glove was tucked neatly inside itself, except the middle finger. The universally recognized middle finger...

I believe in signs. I believe that God speaks to us in many ways. I believe that the universe challenges us and that the world sometimes lets us know what kind of karma we are exuding by giving it right back to us. And in May of 2008, I believe that tiny red glove was a sign and it clearly had a message.

Coincidentally (or not), it was that month that I took back my life. I took it into my own hands. Some days I cradled it gently and some days I shook it fiercely back into reality. But I treated it the way it needed to be treated which is not something you can expect when you leave it up to someone else.

Almost three years later, I am still making changes and learning and growing but there's no subtlety in my message back to that tiny red glove and the world for that matter. You can't keep me down. I am a force to reckon with. And... Right back atcha!

Day 27: I Wish You Love

Happy Valentines Day!

Many years of my life have been spent hating this holiday. But I'd be lying if I said I never had a moment when someone made me feel loved or important or like he really got who I am. And to ignore those moments, in spite of the relationships that surrounded them would be tragic. I've heard many people say that love should be celebrated every day and not just one day out of the year. Those people are right. But I believe it's also true that we should be grateful for all of the good in our lives even if it doesn't make sense to our hearts.

Because others don't see me as being successful in love, they often don't take my opinions seriously nor do they heed my advice. But marriage does not equal success in love. Some statistics show that 50% of all first marriages end in divorce. That number increases in second marriages and even more in third marriages. Anybody can get married. But marriage does not equal success in love.

Success in love  is the ability to open yourself up to the possibilities, to feel with every ounce of your being, to share on an emotional level with another human being, to experience selflessness and to put yourself at risk for it to all completely backfire. At least that's my opinion.

Today, I wish you the experience of love. I wish you real, warm and genuine hugs. Long kisses that feel like they might never end. A tug in your heart that tells you to stay. Or tells you to go. I wish you beautiful memories and satisfaction in knowing that you took a chance. I wish you healthy and happy relationships.

Again, I wish you a Happy Valentine's Day!

Day 26: Move It People!

Hi, my name is Michele and I'm a road rager.

For years, I've made excuses. It's all of those other people on the roads who don't know how to drive. They don't pay attention. They spend too much time on their cell phones. They are too short-sighted or they are looking so far ahead that they don't notice what's happening right in front of them.

How about those people that drive until the acceleration ramp ends and then just expect you to stop and let them in? Find an opening and take it! And inevitably, in the midst of every single traffic jam, there is one guy at the front of the pack that is slowing everyone down. Trust me. It's ONE GUY.

But last week, I started a job that requires me to drive 45 minutes to an hour every morning and every night. So I've decided to make a concerted effort to breathe easy on the roads and not allow the bad drivers around me to determine my mood. I'm cranking up the tunes in the car and doing my breathing exercises.

And I have just one favor to ask of the rest of you while I make the transition from road rager to responsible driver. MOVE IT PEOPLE!

Day 25: A Loss for Words

It isn't often that I am at a loss for words. But 25 days into my 40 days until I turn 40, I find it hard to put a blog together. (This does not bode well for readers who are hoping I will keep writing through my 40th year.) So, today I am leaving the words to some much wiser folks who are talking about... words.

"One of the hardest things in life is having words in your heart that you can't utter." ~James Earl Jones

"The right word may be effective but no word was ever as effective as a rightly timed pause." ~Mark Twain

"When words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain." ~William Shakespeare

"In the end we remember not the words of our enemies but the silence of our friends."
~Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

"I'm a woman of very few words, but lots of actions." ~Mae West

"A bad word whispered will echo a hundred miles." ~Chinese Proverb

"Words are a wonderful form of communication but they will never replace kisses and punches."
~Ashleigh Brilliant

Day 24: Gone, and a cloud in my heart

Jim, me and Phil at the last game in the old Busch Stadium.

I suppose I am one of the lucky few who never had a friend die when I was young. It seems all too common these days. Today is the third anniversary of the death of my friend Phil. I've written about him before so I won't go into the details. But I miss your face Phil! I'm sure you know that a lot of things just aren't the same without you. In fact, those days when everyone got along and it was all fun and games seem longer gone than you.

"Gone - flitted away,
Taken the stars from the night and the sun
From the day!
Gone, and a cloud in my heart."
~Alfred Tennyson

Day 23: Oh say can you see...

note: Day 23 is Thursday, Febuary 10th.

Today, The St. Louis Hall of Fame held a luncheon honoring two of this year's inductees. Quite the crowd gathered to recognize Bruce Sutter, St. Louis Cardinals Hall of Fame pitcher and Bill Bradley, Hall of Fame basketball player, Rhodes scholar and former senator. The room was filled with athletes and fans and members of the media. I had the honor and privilege of singing the national anthem to help kick off the event.

Award-winning broadcaster Ron Jacober introduced me. Because people had already started eating lunch, he told them that they could stay seated if they wanted during the anthem. But as I sang the first phrase the crowd began to stand. First, one by one, they set down their forks and pulled up their napkins and rose to their feet. Then whole tables stood. And within seconds, the entire room stood tall with their hands on their hearts. After the final note, Mr. Jacober said, "The NFL should be paying attention to you."

I hadn't planned to mentioned Christina Aguilera's anthem singing error at Superbowl XLV on this blog until  Mr. Jacober made that comment. I have been singing the national anthem for 23 years. And there is one thing that I know for sure about the anthem: the singing of our national anthem is a precious moment.

The lyrics come from a poem written by Francis Scott Key and they are based on a specific battle. A man had left Baltimore to try to rescue his friend who was being held captive by the British army. When he tried to return, he couldn't because there was a planned attack on the city. He watched from afar and he spotted the flag waving over the city. The man kept watch over night and at one point, in the midst of the bombing, he lost sight of the flag. As dawn came and the smoke cleared, he realized that the flag was still there.

There is nothing about that story that is not relevant today. For most of my life, our country has been at war. There are men and women enduring battle day and night and when they make it through... when they fight through the night... they are that flag that is still standing when the smoke clears.

Every American should know the words and understand the meaning behind the song and appreciate that it is just as relevant today as it was in 1814. And every anthem singer should remember that the performance is secondary to telling the story.

Day 22: Silky Smooth. Or Not.

note: Day 22 is Wednesday, February 9th.

I've stopped shaving my legs.

Perhaps some people, like me, are too open and honest on the internet. And maybe we shouldn't tell our readers everything about everything. Maybe I shouldn't talk about my monthly lady time. And perhaps I shouldn't reveal that I've stopped shaving my legs. But it's too late so we should probably talk about it.

I've stopped shaving my legs.

I don't remember the first time I shaved them but I do remember reaching an age when I became very anxious about the whole experience. When would it be time to start shaving them? Was everyone else already shaving theirs? I worried. I didn't want to get left behind. What I didn't realize and what every woman around me failed to mention was that once I started shaving my legs, there would be no end in sight. It would be a task repeated almost daily for many years with the purpose of creating silky smooth legs that, for most of my life, NOBODY ELSE WOULD TOUCH.

At 18 years old and less than three minutes into my first volleyball game of my college career, I blew out my knee. My team was playing in a tournament in Tennessee at the time and as I waited for the ambulance to arrive and cart me off to the hospital, players from other teams around the country hovered around me to talk to me and keep my mind off of the pain. Finally, a fire truck pulled up and one of the girls leaned into my ear and said, "You should see the hot fireman coming over here." Instantly I laughed and cried at the same time, "I didn't shaved my legs!" Of course, hottie firefighter strolled up, took of his helmet and immediately began examining my knee. With his hands...

So, while I believe that if you are prepared for anything, anything can happen, everyone else always says that it's when you're not looking that the love of your life shows up. So, I'm not going to jinx myself. And I'm not looking. To prove it, I've fired my razor and benched the shaving cream. And I've stopped shaving my legs.

Day 21: No Rest!

note: Day 21 is Tuesday, February 8th

For two days now I have been employed full time and a full time student but it only took about 24 hours for me to realize that sometimes, the best laid plans are just plain crazy. When I wake up in the morning, I don't feel almost 40. When I look in the mirror, I don't think I look almost 40. Age is a state of mind and in my mind, I am not even close to 40.

But there are moments when it is painfully clear to me that I am not 20 any more either. The mornings when I wake up after staying up late to do homework and only getting four hours of sleep remind me that I'm not a kid anymore. Then, stretches of sleep-deprived days nearly bring me to tears. I am not young enough to hang but I act like a three year old when I am so tired I could cry. And, finally, when my to do list has 17 items and I barely make it through five of them, because I'm too tired to keep going.

Have I mentioned that I'm a little tired. There's no rest for the weary! Or is that the wicked... I don't know. All I know is there's no rest!

Day 20: The World is Your Oyster

"The world is your oyster!" said the card attached to the flowers.

Dragging myself into the house after my first day of work at my new job, I threw down my coat and purse and paused in the kitchen. A delivery had come earlier in the day and I couldn't imagine who may have sent it. Tearing into the paper, I discovered the beautiful, bright pink flowers and the card attached was signed by a dear friend whom I've known since high school.

We are half way through the 40 days until my 40th birthday. So I had planned to muster up some half-hearted blog about hitting the half way point. But then the flowers came and they reminded me how important it is to let people know when you are thinking about them. It can shift a person's entire mood or make someone's day. A kind word, a short message, even a smile can pull someone back from the brink of... mediocrity!

I also started thinking about the sentiment that my wonderful friend had written in the card. "The World is Your Oyster." Shakespeare first popularized the phrase in "The Merry Wives on Windsor" and the original meaning was exactly what you think: the world is yours for the taking and it is a place where you can get something of great value just by using the proper tools and gently prying open the shell.

Thank you, my good friend, for thinking of me, for letting me know you were thinking of me and for reminding me that I can have whatever I have the guts to go after. Look out world. You might want to hide your pearls!

Day 19: Super Day

My family packed into the back room of the house today, noshed on tailgate food and watched Superbowl XLV together. We typically cheer on the same team and we always have a dance party at half time which usually involves my brother-in-law "churning the butter," my sister jumping in some way and my nephew shaking his booty. It's always a super day. No drama, a good game, lots of fun.

But my favorite part of days like these is getting the food together. I love cooking for a crowd. I love the organizing and timing everything so it's all ready at the same time. There's an art to throwing a party and I don't excel at it but I don't suck either. Practice makes perfect. I look forward to the  presentation of the food and watching everyone pick apart all the pretty platters as they pile food on their plates. And at the end of the party when I am cleaning up, I am satisfied knowing that everyone is full and happy. I don't even mind the pile of dirty dishes. They are symbolic of a successful day.

If you spent the day under a rock or don't really care about football, the Green Bay Packers won the game. I didn't really have any stake in the outcome but it was a great game. A super game even. On a super day.

Day 18: Turning Home

One of my favorite country artists these days is David Nail. He's a hometown kid of sorts. He grew up in Missouri. I was first introduced to his music by Tony LaRussa while I worked an event for the Animal Rescue Foundation. 

Two things draw me to certain music. First, there's a certain quality in a person's voice that attracts me. It's not always the same quality. It's just something in they way they project the music that moves me emotionally in one way or another. Second, the lyrics have to make sense to me. You know when you hear a song and you say out loud or you feel deep within you that you agree or you get it? Or you feel like they must have gotten in your head somehow or seen a video of your life? That's what hooks me.

Today, I spent some time with college friends and it's always such a good time when we get together. We talked briefly about how different our school is today compared to "back in the day" when we were there. We took a couple of very quick trips down memory lane. And, maybe it's this getting older thing but, every time we are together I feel more nostalgic and a little more sentimental.

David Nail has some new music coming out this week. But for now here's his song TURNING HOME. The lyrics say " And I don't know no friends like the old friends. I never seem to laugh now like I did with them. But deep inside me, a piece of my history. Yeah, I hear their voices even though they're gone. And it keeps me turning home."

We made a lot of history in our time at Webster U. There were a lot of firsts for all of us. We've got a lot more stories than anyone ever read about in the Journal. And it's not the same place it was when we were there. I'm sure it's better in some ways. But there will never be anything like the good old days again.

Day 17: I Pledge Allegiance

This week, I had the honor and privilege of photographing one of the naturalization ceremonies at the Thomas F. Eagleton Courthouse downtown. I don't take many things too seriously but I do reserve a high level of respect for the patriotic moments in our country. I wouldn't have spent the last 25 years singing the national anthem if I didn't believe that we lived in a great place and that the men and women who came before me deserve to be honored in some small way for making it a great place.

An uncertainty seemed to linger in the air early in the morning. The candidates for citizenship filed in one at a time. Conversation was held to a minimum except for the small children that darted through the courtroom now and then. But once everyone took a seat and the ceremony began, excitement began to bubble up in the place. The 64 people representing 33 different countries, stood and, placing their hands on their hearts, they recited the pledge of allegiance. What a moving moment! There were doctors and nurses among them. Janitors and truck drivers. There were stay-at-home moms and students and grandmothers. They came from Vietnam and Greece and Bosnia. And Haiti and India and the Congo. They were brown and black and white skinned people. Tall and short. Fat and thin. Some spoke softly and others were loud and proud. They each held tiny American flags in their hands throughout the ceremony. And afterward, they held up their certificates in front of puffed up chests and they were the perfect picture of America.

Day 16: She's Back Again

Every month, I anticipate her arrival. For years, she showed up like clockwork. Same day. Same time. Now she just rolls on in any time she feels like it. There's no planning any more. Eventually, I expect she'll stop showing  up altogether.

For years I cursed her visits. That was back when she and I were just getting acquainted. I wished her out of my life. All she did was cause me pain and embarrassment. She was a bad influence. Every time she was around my mood changed dramatically. I was irritable and cranky and cried at the drop of a dime. What was the point?! She offered no real value to my life. She just got in the way.

Later on, after knowing her for years and understanding her purpose in my life, I appreciate our get-togethers.  I recall a few times when I didn't think she'd make an appearance. And then I missed her desperately. I prayed that she'd come back again. "Please God!" I begged. "Just let her come." Sure enough, she'd surprise me a few days late. Then I praised her and thanked God. Until our next rendezvous... Then I hated her again.

Our relationship has become a bit erratic of late. The time between her visits varies. She seems to avoid me when I'm totally stressed out which is probably smart but that stresses me out even more because I've come to depend on her arrival. And our interactions have taken on a desperate undertone. She didn't tell me that I was allotted only a certain number of trysts with her in my lifetime until that number dwindled dramatically. And then... sadness enveloped us. She and I. For her arrival now means two things: there's not much time left and another month has passed that I am not pregnant.

Day 15: Snowed In

I can't let SNOWPOCALYPSE 2011 pass without a little bit of acknowledgement. They called it the biggest storm in decades. Meteorologists issued an ice storm alert, then blizzard warnings came and there were predictions of over a foot of snow for most of the state of Missouri. I love snow but it paralyzes the city of St. Louis for some reason.

The ice arrived, followed by snow and when I woke up in the morning, I could still see fallen leaves on my front lawn. Just enough snow had fallen to inconvenience me for a couple of days but not enough to build a fluffy snowman family complete with corncob pipes and top hats or something.

While it's not quite what I hoped (like so many things in life), it is still beautiful.

Day 14: The Invitation

Twenty-three years ago, my adoption records were opened and I found out that my birthfather was Cherokee. So, for the last twenty-three years, I have read books, gone to pow wows and talked to as many Indians as a girl can meet in Missouri (which isn't very many). My connection to the culture was immediate. I love my ancestry. And I am now a very proud Indian. (Feather, not dot...)

Most of the books I read are Indian-related materials. And I find great inspiration in much of it. Now, you probably know that I have many friends who tell me that I am too picky when it comes to relationships. That maybe I should give up on the pretty boys and find me a rugged country boy... That I should be more thankful for the opportunities that cross my path, even if they aren't exactly what I want... Yes, I am picky. But no, I do not think it's a bad thing. We are day 14 into the 40 days before my 40th birthday and at this point in life, I know what I need. A few years ago, I came across the following piece. Often times, the words of others say it better than you ever could. This is exactly how I feel.

THE INVITATION
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting in your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit in pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tip of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you're telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.
It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Day 13: Mistakes

Yesterday, Susan Sarandon said on Oprah that if she could give her 20-year-old self one piece of advice it would be that it's ok to make mistakes. She said that making mistakes is the most fun part of life. I don't know if I would call all of my mistakes fun but I do know that out of every situation that I "got myself into" came a lesson. And with the exception of one area of my life, I have taken those lessons to heart and strived to prevent history from repeating itself.

That said, I think if I could give my 20-year-old self any one piece of advice it would be about mistakes too. But I would say something more like this:

"You are going to make more mistakes in the next 10 years than you have up to this point. And they are going to be big. Those mistakes are going to affect, not only you, but also the people around you. Be sure to say you're sorry to them. But know that many of them will never forgive you. Don't let that keep you from forgiving yourself. Don't let their disappointment keep you from picking yourself up and dusting yourself off. And don't think that you're alone in all of it. Nobody in the world is the only one that something happens to."