It's 12:01 a.m. on September 8. I am 40. I was waiting all day on the 7th to see when it would hit, how I would feel, when that moment would come when I knew, "yeah, here it is. A new decade." Don't misunderstand me. I do not think 40 is old. At all. Really. OK, maybe just a little. But, turning 40 has always been a landmark age for me. The age when I would have it all: family, career, car, good looks, social life, house. Success. A time I would feel like I had my life together. HAH! As of today I have a family that has changed and separated since my mom's death almost 4 years ago, I am an Assistant Manager for a Starbucks store, I am driving my dad's Buick since one of our cars blew a radiator, I am holding on to 2+ pounds I desperately want to lose, working 40+ hours a week and trying to raise a couple of kids really puts a kink in any socializing, and I am moving out of a house I love into an apartment in less than a week. Failure? No. I know I am not. But it's been hard for me approaching this milestone knowing that I am far off the road I thought I would be on at this age.


I have a great family. My husband and I just had our 13th wedding anniversary yesterday. We have been together 16 years. That's a long time to stick together these days. We have 2 beautiful kids together. A girl who just turned 12 and is loving life in middle school. She is boy-crazy, silly and sassy, and prefers hanging out with her friends over her family. Very typical. We have an 8 yr-old boy, who is in 3rd grade and, due to his crazy stunts and antics, is the most talked about boy on the street - mainly these days for walking up to neighbors bar-be-queing, asking them what they're cooking, and walking away with a hot dog. I have 2 step-kids too. A 15 yr-old girl who seems to really finding her way in high school, and a 19 yr-old boy who is loving studying motorcycle repair in Florida. I long for a closer relationship with my ssters, brother, father, uncle, cousin...but this is the family I created and I am blessed to have it.



I am not the teacher I once thought I would be. I am not the Executive Director with The Pampered Chef that I once dreamed of being, but I have a good, solid job wth a company that is continually ranked as one of the best in America to work for. I have flexibility with my work schedule, health insurance benefits, potential to further promote locally, and many other perks that help make it worthwhile. Sure the pressures of helping to manage one of the busiest stores in the state sometimes make me tense, but I've learned it's a game I play well. It's also a company that makes an effort to control their global impact, strives to be an integral art of each community, and listens to ther partners' opinions and concerns.



The car? Well, thank God my dad had it on hand and was willing to loan it for as long as we need it. It's old, has peeling paint, does not have a CD player and the A/C doesn't work. But it gets decent gas mileage and it runs well. We'll get our car fixed soon and one day I'm sure we'll have nicer, newer cars. But for now I know I can get myself to and from work ok. That's definately more important than the emblem on the vehicle.



Working in retail, being on my feet all day, is really hard on my body. Not to mention the insanely early times I often wake for work. I am often tired, sore, and out of energy. I rarely take time to exercise and I know I am not eating well. I can work on changing this. Through my company I have enrolled in a pretty involved fitness/health program and hope I can take advantage of the tools and resources available to make it a success. More important, I think, is to learn to love, respect and accept myself the way I am. My body has had a part in creating, has nurtured, developed and given birth to two human beings. Really, a pretty remarkable feat. My body is the house to a soul that is loving and caring, that believes in and embraces, has amazing faith in a higher power. A soul that cares when others hurt or struggle or fear. My body may not be the thinnest or the fittest, but it can be pretty darn cute.



I have some amazing people in my life right now. We don't always get together for dinners, bowling, book clubs or even meet up throguh church. I tend to withdraw from them when I get stressed. And I irritate a few. I never mean to though. That's just part of human nature and spending too much time together, or just being different. The Bunco group I joined seems to have forgiven me, even though I took the Bunco oath to commit, for being too busy to come every month. The PTO ladies know I am working out of the home 40+ hours and can't always make it to a meeting. The people at church understand that I sometimes work Sundays and can't come. And thre are those few friends that ar alwaysonly just a phone call away to be the ear I need to vent to, the shoulder I need to cry on, or the voice I need to laught with. I do long for some consistancy in my activities, but am grateful that there seems to be some understanding and acceptance and love that my neighbors are ok with me showing up to their BBQ just in time for...dessert.



My house. Wow. This has been the toughest change I think I have ever gone through. My husband has been in business for himself for 12 years. Two major contracts have provided a very nice income for years. In March, he lost both of the contracts and suddenly found himself out of work. Because he was in business for himself, there was no unemployment aid to get us through it. We lost our house. There are not enough words to describe how awful it is to go from month to month worrying about how to put food on the table, gas in the car, which bill HAS to get paid and realizing there is just not enough money afterwards for the mortgage. And when the utilities start to get cut off and you are being pulled over for driving a car with expired plates, you start to feel a bit bad about yourself. This house was meant for me. I knew it months before it was even built, months before we knew we would move to this town. My mom, who died 4 years ago, helped me decorate this house. I can vividly recall her sitting on my living room couch holding my son when he was a baby, sitting at my kitchen table while I was getting together a family meal, sitting in my front room with the window open and the ceiling fan on because she always thought my house was too hot. I recall my cousin Bob sitting in my living room chair not getting up to get his Thanksgving dinner because my little boy snuggled up to him and fell asleep on him. Bob died a week later. I remember my Auntie Bunk coming during the holidays and directing me through a meal and telling me to wait on the men becaus she thougt wasn't giving them enouh attenton. She died last year. My kids have achieved most of their childhood milestones in this house. They have potty trained, lost teeth, learned to ride bikes, and grown up here. This is where I learned that I am really good with plants and flowers and have a beautiful yard. My porch, if it could talk, can tell you about the times I laughed, cried, loved and fought on it. Leaving this house is agonizing for me. Yes, the terrible economy has helped push us to this place. And, yes, I know, we have made some bad decisions that have contributed to this loss. I know we will once again have a house to call ours, but for now I struggle with the leaving house, porch, yard, neighbors, and most of all, the many, many cherished memories. One day the memories will just be there and it won't matter where I live. Today I indulge in some tears worried that I will lose them when I leave this house.



This life of mine has been a crazy ride lately. I long for simple. I long for easy. One day I will have both. I think I can be OK with not having all I once dreamed of by the time I turned 40. I will re-evaluate what it is I really want from this life and adjust my idea of success accordingly. And learn to respct and appreciate the blessings I do have in my life. As far as 40 being old? A great friend told me a few years ago that 30 is the new 20. That must mean that 40 is the new 30 and I should, really, feel 10 years younger. Maybe I shouldn't worry about turning 40 until I turn 50, right?

Joe the Landscaper & my truck

Ugh. It's been hot lately. Really hot. The kind that makes even those of us who love summer a bit cranky. Leaving work after a long today, I was hot and sweaty and just wanted to go home and take a shower and try to cool off. Get in my truck, put the key in the ignition and turn and...nothing. It's dead. Really? I walk up to a group of my partners in the middle of their team meeting and fill them in on what's going on. One of them has pair of jumper cables, but doesn't know how to use them. I think I have a pair of cables, but am not too sure. One has a good car and is willing to help, but has no idea how to use the cables. This is going to be fun. At this point I look around and ask if it isn't time for Joe to come back? Joe is a morning regular customer at the Starbucks store where I work. He usually comes around around 5 a.m. before work and comes back again in the afternoon to study for school. He works doing the landscaping at a local golf course. He seems like the kind of guy who will know how to jump start a car.

At one point Colleen and I decide we are going to try this on our own. I find a pair of cables in my car and pull them out thankful there are instructions on them. Her and I look them over laughing as we try to figure out which ones go where and in what order. My old eyes are having a hard time adjusting to the small print and I ask if I can go get my reading glasses. It is the blind leading the blonde here and I am not too sure we are going to be successful. It's hot and we're both tired and, in between giggles, I am pondering how it is that I am 39 years old and have no idea how to jump start a car. I've always been impressed that I usually carry a pair around, but have somehow escaped the need to use them.

Finally, Colleen notes that Joe has indeed returned to our store and decides she needs to go get him. He comes out with her lauging at the spectacle of two of his regular Starbucks Baristas trying to figure this out. We might be able to make a great cup of coffee, but mechanics we are not. Thankfully, Joe knows what he is doing and after a couple of tries my old truck starts right up.

You know, we might have figured it out eventually. Or my husband might have made the 20 minute drive from Castle Rock to rescue me. But I was thankful that I didn't have to wait much longer on such a long, hot day to go home. Thankful that there are people like Joe willing to take a few minutes out of the end of their day to lend a hand. Even if the hand he lent came along with a few laughs at our expense.

Two things I promise after this....Joe will not need to pay for his next couple cups of coffee as they are on me and I promise to learn how to use those cables!

This week I said goodbye to my parents' house. The last house they lived in together. My mom died almost 4 years ago from colon cancer. I should have seen it coming, but I could never accept the fact that my mom was sick. Really sick. She was positive to the end and really held on to the hope of a miracle. She had also kept how serious it was from me. She knew she was terminal, but never said those words to me.

My mom had a gift with making a home a haven. A warm, welcoming place where all felt accepted and at home. They moved in to this house when I was starting up my own right before my 12-yr old daughter was born. She took this house, a renovated duplex and lifted away the depressing, 70's veneer and added her own special touch. They lived under construction for weeks while she had new carpet put in, walls painted, and the kitchen opened up and remodeled. Once it was finally put together, an appraisal of the house proved her efforts to be worthwhile. My dad grumbled over all the money she was putting into this house, but even he was impressed when they were told they had hugely increased the value of the house.

There are so many memories of this house in the seemingly sort time they lived there. This was the place I brought my daughter every day while I was at work her first 2 years. She was the first grandchild to come into that home. Four more would follow from her kids. There were showers, parties, dinners, and, finally, a wake. This house watched her celebrate and it watched her die.

Of course, my dad would move on. It was too big for just him and he always wanted to live out on the plains. He waited for a bit to help make the transition easier on us kids, and I'm sure on himself.

I know those memories will never go away and there are plenty of pictures to help us re-live them. But, it's so wierd to think there will never be another home to call my parents' home. It will always be Dad's place now. Time to start making memories there.