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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 
“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, 
“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 
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 “