Enough: Can we ever be it or have it?

The conversation turned yet again to Enough. I kind of have a love/hate relationship with that word. On the one hand it can seem so satisfying. When my grandmother was alive, she always kept cookies on hand. Sometimes she would have a coffee can filled with her melt-in-your-mouth sugar cookies. I loved if I saw my name felt-markered on masking-tape stuck to the can’s flimsy plastic lid. They were my favorite. “Did you get enough?” she’d ask. “Oh my – YES. Thank you Margaret!” I’d reply, wondering how in the world I ate half the can before even getting out the door. More than enough — for the moment. Just thinking about them makes me feel like I could use some right about now. So I guess even satisfying-enough is momentary. Because, that’s the story with things of this

Nice People

  “Oh, Kay!” our ever-sweet and delightful school receptionist stopped me as I walked by on my way to grab a kid out of the carpool line. Sometimes after an assembly, we walk to get kids rather than drive through the line. I had stopped several times along the way to catch up with folks, so I was last. My poor kids. Last in the alphabet. Last thanks to a chatty-mom. “Hi Cindy,” I smiled back at her. “Kay, I think this key might be yours?” Huh? A key. She rustled through some papers on her desk then lifted up a single car key stuck to the underside of a yellow Post-It Note – bearing “KAY” in black Sharpee. I looked at the key, noticed it to be my own and wondered how in the world it had ended up at Cindy’s desk. The last I knew I had put it in my pocket when racing from my car a few blocks from the school – slightly late,

Gift Guide – Simple Rules

“What are you getting the boys?” a friend of mine asked. We bumped into each other at the pharmacy. My fingers are still crossed, hoping we’re done with the flu! “That’s the question of the hour,” I shake my head. “Funny thing,” I started in, “I was in Tuesday Morning last week picking up a lamp for my mom. Our rearranging of her furniture opened the perfect spot for a lamp by her chair. And I totally scored with the perfect lamp for that spot.” “I love Tuesday Morning,” she sighed. “It can be hit or miss. But when it hits, it’s a home-run for sure.” “I know. So happy.” Birds were singing, we smile-nodded, all was right in the world. “If only all shopping could be as quick and productive as that lamp-run,” she said. “Fact,” I shuh-replied. Yeah, my friend looked at me weird, too. Sometimes

The Overwhelming Nature of the Season

I have a tiny vendetta against pressure/stress/circumstance-laden Overwhelmed. I’m tired of things stealing from me, from us – the kids and my friends and people in general. There are so many examples. Huge things like the legitimate uproar over kids and smart phones. Jean Twenge recently authored a study/book on the dangers of smart-phone use, specifically to the point of destroying a generation of kids who are “on the brink of a mental health crisis.” I see the articles. And my heart aches at all the repercussions and the enormity of the situation. Medium things that look huge since we live in the days of instant (instant gratification, instant results, instant judgement,… ) like grades. It’s the end of the semester – a few low numbers threaten to make that fragile, yet powerful GPA an indictment rather than a golden
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