Not Pushing Daisies, Just Pushing 40

Nope.  Not dead.

Yet.

I did however get one year closer to death recently.  I'm now 38, which can be considered "pushing 40," right?

I spent the day at a spa where I "took the waters" and relaxed, something which was long overdue considering the insanity that is now daily life at our house.  Things have sort of settled down a bit, which may or may not be due to intense therapy, introspection, an entire village (it takes one to raise a kid, dontchaknow) mediators/translators (I don't speak teenager well), cooling-off periods, or a combination of all of the above.

That, and the reminder to take everything one day at a time, one moment at a time.  Because when I try to take it in all at once?  That's when I teeter on the brink of insanity.

So here's to 38 being a year of taking steps, however small, away from the edge.

For the grand occasion, Ralph got me my favorite kind of roses (sterling), and they smell heavenly.  Thanks honey!