Tales of the Ordinary Days

The phrase 'bloom where you are planted' keeps resonating with me. I'm not completely sure where the embedding began, but as of late, this catch phrase continually hits replay in my brain. I do feel like I am planted in a lot of different places these days. Tonight I am in Omaha. And I'm at home. Just home (9:06 p.m.). But home nonetheless. Home means many different things to me. I confuse people with pictures of Denver on my blog and social media. I also confuse people with my spotty appearances and 'going quiet' for periods of time. The new norm. "Did you move to Denver?" is a frequent question. or "I haven't seen you in ages. Why have you dropped off the face of the earth?" is another. Albeit the understandable confusion (apologies for past miscommunication and the inevitability of those in the future), I'm kind of everywhere these days. But the real answer is that most time is spent at 72nd and Center in Omaha, less tim...

View on my drive to our morning run Today was an ordinary day in Omaha. Amen to that. I have missed my sleepy, but satisfying days aglow with Midwestern pleasantries. I now sit in my art room sipping on a Leinenkugel's Grapefruit Shandy as Nat King Cole croons to me from the spinning vinyl. Windows are cracked with the sound of boys playing basketball as background noise coming from the front drive. Basketball also plays on the big screen in the living room with a big and a not-so-big boy tracking their brackets. With bellies full of a take out meal of wings and chicken baskets, my two oldest have set off with friends to enjoy a Saturday spring night. Life continues to hum for us in Omaha. Home. I began my day with a run through Boy's Town with my running gal pals. Our routine of coffee complimented with shared bananas and peanut butter followed. This same routine with a varying cast of characters has gone on at the same spot for over ten years. Some years it has been...