Some days.

Some days I feel like a dried-up weed, tired and stringy-nerved.
Some days I get tired of headaches.
Some days I am acutely, uncomfortably, aware of the times in which we are living.
Some days I step through what is a promising opening in the trees, am met with a disappointing field of dirt on the other side, and
Some days I am left thinking that that just might be the metaphor for Life.

But on these some days, I remind myself of what the cure for these some days is - a little prayer, a little food, a little sleep. So I honor this triumvirate, partaking of each part, and when I have awoken my spirit is refreshed and the world seems brighter, and I wonder why I ever skip one, or two, or, some days, all three parts.

Looking up.

Mostly I just like the way the leaves become lace against the sun and skies.

What we must do, then, is to do good while we are here: spread joy and beauty and hope. So that even in our leaving, others may see it and be moved.

This is the only picture of me, as a child, with my dad.

At first I was bothered by this, as I sifted through the tubs of photos, searching for one - just one - more. Then, after giving up the search, I stopped to look at the photo with new eyes. And I realized: why do I need hundreds of photos when this one says it all? He looks at me, as I laugh, with so much love you would think I were his first child rather than his fourth. Seeing that transformed the photo from the depressing evidence of being the last child, into something precious: a witness to the happy and loving childhood I was given.

Happy Father's Day, Dad.

When a friend and I decided to pack a picnic and go see Shakespeare-in-the-Park, we had no idea it would be so entertaining.

In short, we had a blast.

I personally thought the highlight of the show was when the young people playing Romeo and Juliet, standing together at Juliet's window, engaged in a kissing match that was so - enthusiastic - that the plywood set threatened to fall over.

Is it great theatre? No. But despite the painfully awkward or just plain hysterical moments that crop up in the performances, I love watching them each summer. It may, in fact, be those moments that have endeared the Shakespeare Company to me.