Tales of the Ordinary Days

And so I sit on our back patio, sipping hot coffee and watching golfers enjoy a beautiful morning in Denver. Amid the chaos of everyday life, I find my Outlook calendar and travel schedule has me in Colorado this weekend. It's been a month since I've spent any time outside of Nebraska, so a refreshing reprieve in all of it's mountainous glory. I have also been quickly reminded that it is my birthday weekend, with birthday hitting tomorrow. A Sunday. A weekend birthday deems it a birthday weekend. At least that's my rule. With Labor Day feeling like yesterday, I really hadn't a clue that my mid-month birthday was this soon. Wednesday night I received a text from a friend and co-worker in the midst of a work interchange. "What are you doing for your b-day this weekend? Knocking something off your bucket list?" Birthday? This weekend? With computer on my lap, I pulled up my Outlook calendar. Sure enough she was correct. Birthday on Sunday with gree...

Janie purportedly "misordered" when she received this whooper! We celebrated Janie's 80th birthday a few weeks back. My friend Angelique's mom was in town on a visit. We gathered at Roja to raise our glasses for her glorious eightieth milestone. The waitress guessed her age to be 63. A common mistake. This story has been in sitting on my mind since our little birthday celebration. Although my time at the celebration was short, the conversation with Janie stuck. And the ironic part was that she hadn't a clue that the words she had spoken were impactful to me. I met Angelique when our boys were in basketball together in 2nd grade. Although many within my circle of friends via Grant's friendships came much earlier, not Angelique. But she was worth the wait. And with her friendship came her mom, Janie. Angelique had always described her exceptional mom as the original desperate housewife. Every trip to Omaha included the appropriate nightly moisturizer ...