choosing between happy and happy.

My lil' family faced some tough decisions these past 48 hours.

Drowning in softball, we had to decide whether Bec was going to make it to her second playoff game, or proceed with a previously planned trip to Michigan to visit my parents.

Softball won.

Then came some not-really-but always-kind-of-anticipated difficulties from the X. One thing led to another, and I was left scrambling to figure out how to still get to Detroit for a Saturday night event with Cache Connections , have Bec make her afternoon game and avoid asking the X for any help, strictly based on principle.

I woke up at 3:30AM this morning to think about it. And with just a little (okay a LOT) of help from my fantastic friends, it worked it out.

So, instead of hanging with Fishy and Papa at the lake tonight, we were able to go to Culver's for dinner with our softball friends for dinner after Jess' first playoff win, ever.

Hard to feel bad about missing out on something when you are being bombarded with love, laughter and the company of truly outstanding friends.

Happiness is everywhere. Even when you aren't looking, it sneaks up behind you and gives you a big, warm hug.

Be ready. It's coming for you.

i remember.

"The" Farrah Fawcett poster. I had hanging in my room. My older sisters made fun of me for it, and I was too young to really understand why.

To me, she was everything I guess maybe I wanted to be. Beautiful. Cool. Confident. Tough. And an "Angel."

We had the Charlie's Angels barbie dolls. I was always Jill. My sister Chrissy was always Kelly, and Suzy was always Sabrina.

The show was never the same once Farrah left, and replaced by Chris.

We also had a CA board game, and a secret Charlie's Angels fan club, with membership limited to the three of us and a few neighborhood friends.

Who didn't want to be able to kick some bad-guy ass every week with your bare hands? After all, the guns were really just fashion accessories.

And then, Michael Jackson. His death today only deepens the sadness and nostalgia for my generation.

Everyone loved him for his music, his immense talent and his ability to entertain.

Thriller, one of the greatest albums ever made. Loved by all. White, black, old, young. It didn't really matter. Even my dad liked him.

We danced to his music as teens on Sunday nights at Cagney's, an Oak Lawn bar that catered to teens that one night a week. It was where I first saw the much-anticipated Thriller video debut on MTV.

That night, the whole bar fell silent as together, we watched the magic unfold on a big screen television.

Jackson's life took many strange and troubling turns through the years. His death leaves many questions unanswered. I am certain in the weeks ahead, much more about his private life will be made known. Much of it will likely be even weirder than I can even imagine at this moment.

But nothing can take away the memories these two pop culture icons impressed in my formative years.

It reminds me that I am not getting any younger, but also that my life was made richer by the talents these two celebrities shared during a most impressionable time in my life.

blues, blues, blues... greens, reds, yellow, oranges.

Thought I couldn't shake them blues lately.

Nothing in particular, just a few of those days when nothing seems quite right.

I spent a weird lil' day off gathering materials for a bankruptcy attorney and my divorce attorney. Have to meet with both to straighten out what I can, and continue the forward path in my life. Much like my divorce, I am facing a situation that really sucks getting through it, but you just know there are better days waiting on the other side.

I am going to give up on the house. Wave the white flag. Start over. Definitely not in the way I had hoped it would have gone, but circumstances sometimes spin out of my control, and take on a life of their own.

My friends are absolutely the best. I know that whenever I feel kinda crappy, I just need to sit down to a beer with them, and I feel so much better. It does wonders for juggling your perception and knowing everything is going to be just fine.

I have been reading Psalms the past week or so. I have learned so much, and again, miraculously at a time when I really need it:

"Be still and know that I am God." Psalm 46:10

"How awesome is the Lord Most High." Psalm 47:2

"...in God I trust, I will not be afraid." Psalm 56:4

Now, if only these mantras can fill my head and my heart.

I will see in rainbows again. Soon.

"

welcome back.

I don't know if I was avoiding writing or just didn't have the time.

Perhaps just a little of both.

Softball season takes up most of our "free time." So in reality, free time has been relegated to rain outs and other Acts of God.

There's not enough of it.

I was on furlough this week. Without Pay (WOP) week. Staycation. Whatever you want to call it.

Like millions of others in this economy, I am facing a 9 percent paycut and eight days without pay. For a grand total of a 15 percent cut.

I like being off. But it's a bitter pill to swallow.

"At least you still have a job."
"It's better than a 100 percent pay cut."

Yes, I know that's all true. The X finally will be employed again, beginning Monday. It's of some relief. Financially, it has been a pretty rough five months, and I have worked almost seven days a week to make sure stuff gets paid.

There has GOT to be more to life than this. Doesn't there?

I met with Dr. KA yesterday. We talked about plans for my future.

"Do you even know what you want?" he asked.

"I want to be happy and peaceful," I said.

"Ummm, nope. You don't even know what that means," he replied.

He's right. and that is both frustrating and insightful.

I am not looking forward to getting back to work. I enjoy being with the girls, going on a field trip with Bec, hanging out at the library. Doing some "happy photography." Not rushing around like an idiot to make our full schedule of games. Seeing friends and having sleepovers.

It's all good.

It's time I do figure out what the "happy and peaceful" thing is all about.

Otherwise, how will I know how to get there?

finally.

How do you finally face the fact that you tries to help, but never even had a chance with someone who can't be helped?

That for almost half of your life, you thought by being kind and patient and good and tolerant that things would get better. That somehow, some way, by being an example, magically, the other person would finally see what you had pleaded for and fought about so hard, for so long, that it almost destroyed you, and most certainly destroyed "us."

I figured out that it's when enough is enough. When it hurts more to allow things to stay exactly as they are, than it does to do something completely different. When you are finally ready to risk being hurt, failing and accepting change, then you finally face that fact head on.

Yes, Dr. KA. I get it now.

The X pushed himself over the edge of my cliff of tolerance this past week.

It wasn't any different than the many scenarios I had faced over the past 15 years.

I disagreed with something he wanted to do. He didn't like it. He started off reasonably enough, pleading his case, then quickly moved on, reminding me that I was ruining his life.

Then the emails came. Cruel, crazy emails, one after another.

I answered the first one. Calmly and rationally explaining why I felt the way I did and that was it. Done. Finito.

A couple more arrived in my inbox. I hit the delete button and went to bed.

The scenario is the same. He rages, he spews, and then he's done. Everything in his world returns to normal, and I am left wondering what happened, scarred again from the verbal and emotional abuse that is so familiar.

He's not doing it anymore. I decided that night it was the very, very VERY last time.

I've said it so many times before, but this time, I felt the conviction rise from my toes to my shoulders.

You stop being the victim when you stop allowing someone to victimize you.

This is very different for me. I always, always, always held out hope that things could be different. Better. Calmer. At least civilized.

It's never going to happen. And I am done trying.

Finally.

mother f-er, may i ever get through this month?

All my worlds collide from mid-April to mid-June.

And as luck would have it, it's been a fairly busy time for my blooming photo biz as well.

Don't get me wrong, I love the work. More than my "real work." Which I currently and fondly refer to as the "death chamber," with all the good news flowing about and all.

So... work (any kind) = happy me.

Add dance, a recital, softball for the girls, softball for me and all the regular commitments we keep every month, and it's a lot like paddling through wet cement.

Today we had to decide between two softball games and dance.

Dance won, and my secret prayers for rain on this gorgeous day may have been heard. Clouds are rolling into town and perhaps a nice long downpour could happen right about 5:15PM. Bec can get to dance without having missed a softball game. Yay for us!

That's just so I can complain when the game is re-scheduled, don'tcha know.

Minnesota in July is sounding better and better all the time.

And just to keep life extra-interesting this week, I got an email from a former friend. I lost the friendship when I wasn't sure I would, and it hurt a lot. But I thought I was doing pretty well with that.

Until the stinkin' Crackberry buzzed and the email popped in.

It was no big deal. Just really unexpected and pretty weird to hear from someone I once used to talk to with some regularity. You hope, however, that life moves forward. Relationships are lost or irrevocably damaged, and you either adjust or you spend a lot of time paralyzed by a situation you can't control anyway.

Dr. KA tells me all the time that you do the best you can with what you know at any given moment. That life hands you lessons and you can either choose to learn from them, or you can react the way you always have and get the same result.

Today, I talked through the email with Patti, and together, we got me off the ledge.

I learned something new, and in the midst of everything else that is going on, I chose not to hurt anymore today.

It's 5:10 PM and the rain has arrived.

God always hears me. Even when I think He might be too busy to listen.

why am I so blessed?

I listened to a Holocaust survivor and incredible speaker at an assignment this week.

Gerda Weissmann Klein, is now in her 80s. Her family was forced to live in the basement of their home in Poland when she was 15. They stayed there three years before being separated from her parents and only brother. She never saw them again.

Klein's story brought me to tears. She talked about a childhood friend who died in her arms while in a Nazi labor camp. The 350-mile death march she was forced to do, and her liberation one day before her 21st birthday. She spoke of being sick, hungry and near death for many very long years.

What kept her going? Klein said in the darkest hours, she thought back, in her heart and in her head, to times before her family's life was forever changed. She said she could picture her family in their living room. Her father was smoking a pipe and reading the evening paper. Her mother did her needlepoint. She and her brother sat at the table doing their homework. "It was what I called then, a very boring evening at home," Klein said.

Klein continued on. "When you go home tonight, approach your home with the eyes of a hungry, sad, homeless person," she said. Go in, and be thankful for all that you have. Don't think of what is missing in your life, because everyone's life is missing something. But approach your home like a hungry, homeless person, with their eyes.

And when you are there, look around you.

Then ask yourself, "Why me? Why am I so blessed?"