If you grew up watching soap operas on lazy hot-as-heck summer days, then you know that it is quite possible (in TV land) for time to stand still. Every time I walk into a nail salon for a much-needed pedicure, I am reminded of this very fact. The characters on the TV monitor hairstyles may change, but the story line stays pretty much the same. Then a musical montage and credits followed by a monotonous theme song. (For the record,  I’m still wondering what happened to Cricket and Danny Romalotti on Young and the Restless and laugh every time I watch the movie Mr. Mom when Jack realizes that Victor’s vasectomy “didn’t take”. My friend K and I think we spotted Danny’s twin as a background guitarist at a recent concert by the way!)

And I digress. I’m standing before you (in a blog sense) admitting that I have been living in la-la-ah-la-soap-opera land, waiting for THIS to happen before I can do THAT. Until recently, I haven’t exactly been living in the present. I haven’t “seen” the present as a gift so much as a kind but passing gesture. The characters (meaning me as well as my loved ones, and no we are nothing like the Abbotts. Much less stuffy and my hair is always out of place) has changed but the story line in my mind’s eye has pretty much stayed the same. I’ve been waiting for THAT to happen so I can do THIS, and then things will be back on track. Well, guess what? Life isn’t a freaking soap opera. Although it would be pretty cool to have a wardrobe consultant and professional hairstylist at my convenience, I realize I’m 45 years old and it’s time to stop waiting for stuff to happen to do what I’m meant to be doing. I wanted to wait until house renovations were over, until my parents were feeling better, until the summer was over, until the kids went back to school, until yadda yadda yadda to get back into writing. ENOUGH. I can’t take it anymore. I’m ready to stop with the excuses and realize that although writer’s block is a real thing, writing for perfection is a big effing myth. If I can just write and not be afraid to write imperfectly, then maybe, just maybe (we will find out what happened to Cricket) I will find more joy in what I’ve always loved doing. (Which is writing. Because I’m writing right now.) I once read that writing is like sitting in front of a computer screen and waiting for your head to burst. That’s what writer’s block was like for me. I suffered from it for months. Weeks I tell you. And I feel bad for my husband, my super-patient and always funny husband who has a lot of patience, especially as the spouse of a writer. He knows me and he has seen it firsthand. If I’m not writing, even if it’s just writing for the heck of it, he knows I’m feeling off. And hard to live with…and kind of a pain in the arse. And who needs that? I think I just need to ignore the noise in my head that everything needs to be just right before I can do this or that. So here I am, trying to take a stab at this blog again. Living in the bold and beautiful present. And trying to write and eat more salad. Maybe it’s all the green stuff in my diet lately, but I’m feeling a sense of clarity that battles the sands in the hourglass, so are the days of our lives. Call it a guiding light. I’m feeling like now’s the time. 😉