You Can’t Always Get What You Want

When I was a kid, I made a mission out of ruining all my mother’s surprise Christmas gifts.  Not the gifts, themselves, of course, but the surprise factor.  I felt so smart breaking her heart.

Okay, perhaps that’s an exaggeration.  But it did upset her every time I figured out what she had so carefully hidden.  As for me, surprise on the day, surprise a week before, didn’t matter.  My mom always picked winners, and she also made sure that whatever we’d put on our wish lists ended up under the tree come Christmas Eve.

Short ‘n Sweet

© Dirk Wuestenhagen Imagery

Today was race day…and ugly.

It was cold, barely beyond drizzling, and a wicked wind pushed its way through every high-tech inch of clothing I wore.  But it made me feel really tough.

About a week ago I set up my racing schedule for the winter.  Seven races in all, two within two days of each other.  This also makes me feel really tough.  And I like feeling tough.

Building a Writer

Bricks (Photo credit: robynejay)

I have a dear and close friend I’ve named Novella.  She’s like that.  A lesson and a full blown story packed in a punch. I’ve been out of town the past few days supporting her in the biggest contest of her career.  Though hopes and expectations were high and everything looked favorable for her, she unexpectedly fell short.

What followed was a step into devastation. And guilt. A feeling like I’ve been here before. Not exactly, last year was a little different; the scale was smaller and it ended far better, though not as well as it could have. On both occasions I was the go-to gal, the pep talker, the one who’s supposed to have the words.

The words didn’t work.