Saint Paul, next 3 exits.....

This week I followed exits that took me to new places; some exits ended good some not so good.

On Sunday I discovered an easy route down to New Prague, MN where I had spent many summer afternoons as a girl while my parents golfed. The weekly pilgrimage took forever from the backseat, but it's funny how now that I'm in the driver's seat, I see it's just an easy 25 minute drive. The exit into town was rewarded with a great chatfest over lunch with a good friend.

I confirmed my address and the exits leading to my house on Monday. This allowed an appraiser to arrive and do his magic for my anticipated Refi. But, unfortunately, that didn't happen. I found out that my house is average (hey, average is still good) but due to the low-priced home sales in my area my house is upside down - financially speaking. My hopes for a Refi took an exit, stage right.

On Wednesday, I rode a big yellow school bus with the fourth grade class to the St. Paul Science Museum. We learned about the famous mummy who had been encased in glass even before I was in the fourth grade. This funky dude was embalmed by his people with the hopes of being transported into the netherworld to live in eternity with the gods they worshiped. Well wouldn't he be surprised to learn he only made it as far as St. Paul, MN.

And lastly, the exit I took tonight led me to the jr. high for day 2 of wrestling practice. My son is trying out a new sport and I'm on the sidelines soaking it all in, trying to understand why 2 hot sweaty guys want to chase each other in a circle just to slam each other ferociously to the mat. I finally shook my head and asked the dad next to me what the fascination was with wrestling and he answered, "it's all about domination and proving you have the strength to take down your opponent." I guess I'm not the dominatrix type. I've never been a fan of WWF so it will take some getting used to if my son becomes the next  Stone Cold-Steve Austin or John Cena.

I've started to think differently about exits. Leaving the highway isn't an end for me anymore, it's more of a warm welcome as I trade the speed of the 4 lanes for the scenery of the 2 lanes. It's great to be in the rat race at times but when the sign reads next exit in 2 miles, and I know it's my exit, I can turn off expectantly to find my lovely upside home still waiting for me all cozy and warm. Of course John Cena, a.k.a. my son, may just be lurking behind the drapes ready to take down his mom but I've been paying attention at practices and I'll razzle dazzle him with my finesse and use my triple threat of hugging, kissing, and tickling to whup his behind. Nobody messes with this mama jama!

Chased by the Cops

Last weekend I watched the classic chick flick, Thelma and Louise. I remember being so shocked by the undoing of these suburban women in the film. They evolve from being tightly wound Stepford-like women with no voice into strong-willed independent women who can stand on their own. Unfortunately, their transformation also includes guns, murder, robbery and being chased by the cops (small details, LOL).

Thelma lets loose her inner vixen and flirts with a new breed of men - Brad Pitt being one of them and who can blame her? Along this path of broken hearts, broken laws and miss-adventures they find their courage and their power bolstered by their deep friendship. In the end they are cornered and forced by the cops to be taken captive dead or alive -- and the most powerful moment of the film is when they decide it won’t be either.

It kind of makes you think about your friends and you wonder – which of my friends would be there with me driving triumphantly over a cliff in a blue mustang?

I have this friend, I’ll call her Junie, and she is every bit as powerful as Louise and every bit the vixen like Thelma. Junie has been to hell and back watching the men in her life disappoint her and lead her astray by their lame example. But Junie had the inner resources, the gift, of reinventing herself at critical crossroads in her life. Junie seems to find the strength in herself and the faith in her Lord to pull herself through each impasse to carve out a new corner of the world that beckons her to move past, to move forward, and to do better.

After supporting me through my divorce, rescuing a co-worker from domestic abuse, and offering her home to some hard-luck adults with questionable rental history she has proven the critics wrong by empowering us all, this ragged lot of vagabonds, into standing tall, into rising above our crises, and showing us by example that we must pay it forward.

Junie is moving on this month. She’s trusting God to move her life in a new direction thousands of miles from here. I’m anticipating the stories she’ll post online of her new adventures, her new men, and her new outreach to her community. Junie has changed the dynamic of her past by blazing this new life of reaching out to others. Her example of paying it forward goes before her and will light the path for her future.

If I ever find myself in a blue mustang with the top down I’ll honk my horn and blast my radio for you Junie – you’re my Thelma and Louise package deal! Have a great ride!!

50 MPH Speed Limit

Sometimes it's good to have limits. Without boundaries people run amok. Right? If 9 Doritos equals one serving and one serving equals 150 calories, could I tempt you with 10?

Turning 50 this year has helped me appreciate the limits we face in life. Some are imposed on us by traffic laws and others are self-imposed for our own good. I used to think having 4 practical shoes and 1 pair of Nikes was a good shoe limit until I started noticing all the color and the style at the mecca of shoes, DSW Warehouse, and now I think sky's the limit on women and their shoes. Who can get in the way of a woman and her passion for shoes?

My passions follow a seasonal tract. In the summer I can devour 2 books a week. I even stepped way out of my comfort zone in July and read the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo series consecutively in 3 weeks. But put me in the busy fall schedule and books and I part ways.

This fall I've been passionate about watching football: both live on the field with my son's games and on TV with the NFL. Who'da thunk it? Gizmo my dog is not so passionate. At Brady's last football practice, I turned my back for a second and he lifted his leg and peed on #4's helmet lying in the grass. I was soooo embarrassed; especially when the kids starting hollering across the field...."Hey, Brady's dog peed on Owen's helmet." I quickly offered some hand wipes - it was gross and funny at the same time, LOL.

With winter fast approaching, the nights will be much shorter at our house. Early to bed and early to rise my dad would always say, and that's our motto. Tonight held my first victory in the retro game of Battleship (G-6? Ah, you sunk my battleship.) That's my winter passion: turning off the TV and setting up the board games. Well when we're inside. Outside it's sledding and snowboarding and a few snow forts in between. I share his love of winter. I'm fighting fleas right now on Gizmo so I'm really hoping for an early snowfall. Did I just say that? Don't hate me.


I'm too organized and methodical to be randomly limitless. My passions have boundaries and limits that work for me. But then again, I'm recently single so maybe it's a point to expand upon and push out from? Maybe I should be more random? Maybe try driving 51 MPH, or click BUY on those shoes in my online shopping cart. Eating too many Doritos, well that's a slam-dunk, I don't need any help there.

One Way Street

I was raised in a house of cards. As a young girl it was great fun to sneak up behind my dad at our holiday parties and steal a few pennies from his pile of winnings while playing poker.Or, if my mom had her glass of 7up and a bowl of nuts nearby, I could easily get a taste of both with no scolding. At that time, I was more interested in playing with my Christmas presents than I was with the adults playing cards around the table. Two years later, at another Christmas celebration, the suggestion was raised by someone at the table, "could Sara Jane play poker with the adults?" By then I was 9 and I was very impressed with those tall stacks of quarters and dimes that piled up on the table. It was a bar mitzvah of sorts to be invited to the poker table with the extended family and I welcomed the jump in social status. Besides, I knew Barbie would rather be back on the couch snuggling with Ken anyway.

My folks had some crazy games that we played: Change the Diaper, Acey Duecy One-Eyed Jack, and 7 Cards No Peeky. I could never remember the actual hierarchy of poker hands so my dad would faithfully write out for me each year on random scraps of paper why a Royal Flush beat 3 of a kind. Sometimes in mid-June, well after the holidays, I would come across his handwritten list of poker hands and I'd smile and think about who would be sitting around the table next year.

As a teenager I had my own card parties around that table. I had them in spades. To assuage my parent's guilt over leaving me alone every Friday night while they were out playing cards or bowling, I was allowed to have my Rat Pack of  girls over for game nights. They would come to the house on their Raleigh's and Schwinn's and we would light up the night with our giggles of laughter playing rounds of Hearts and Uno. And if the night went long, I'd break out the Sorry game and we'd go nose to nose moving our pieces around the board as we shrieked "SSSOOOORRRYYYY" in our best Carol Burnett voice.

When my mom was diagnosed 9 years ago with lung cancer and began failing she made plans to move to a nursing home to get short term care. Dad was gone by then and none of us kids were skilled in nursing so it seemed a good decision. The Walker Nursing Home was surrounded on all sides by one way streets. It was such a contrast to leave the wide open spaces of suburbia to then navigate these narrow one way streets with parked cars, buses streaming by, all the while calming a crying toddler in the backseat. For months I made the trip north across the freeway, down the back roads, and through that maze of one way streets. The stoplights were too many to count but I did anyhow. I started dreaming about a route that would take me directly from my home to my mom with fewer stoplights. Whenever I'd get stopped by those red lights I'd plot out a new route that would cost me one less stoplight on my next trip.

My mom's funeral was held in Minneapolis very near those same one way streets. It was a beautiful morning in August for such a sad occasion and we were burying her with my dad at Fort Snelling with a military ceremony. The cars were lined up outside the funeral home and the police escort was in place and ready to lead us in procession. As we advanced down the block I noticed the first green light and said a silent thank you heavenward as we continued. It was my habit to count the stoplights and as we neared the next light that was turning yellow, soon to be red, it dawned on me that with the police escort I'd be making this last trip to see my mom with no traffic lights. I'd finally be driving these one way streets to see my mom with no red light stops in between. It was a God thing and it made me bawl but it also made me smile.

When my mom was first diagnosed and emotionally reeling from the news, we were all taken by surprise and cut to the quick wondering how many months we'd have with her. The doctors had said only 3-6 months, so when it stretched to 9 months - well, it was all gravy from there on out. I remember we were in the car once leaving another doctor's appointment, and mom with her usual way of putting my needs before her own, turned and said to me, "Sara Jane, don't be sad....I've had a very good life......I've been dealt a good hand."  And indeed she had. I like to think mom, dad, and Uncle Ray are having the time of their lives shuffling the deck, cutting the cards, placing their bets down on the table waiting for us kids to join them again at the adult poker table.

Fines Double in Work Zone

Time is flying by fast. They say once you have kids time speeds up. You see the calendar advancing and you wonder how you got this far. Wasn't it just spring? Wasn't the snow just melting and giving way to dry sidewalks and bicycles in the street? It all comes and goes so fast, time doubles in the work zone of life.

For those of us that journal online, we should set our Outlook calendar to ping us every 3 days to slow us down. Or perhaps a pop-up reminder when 4 things get scheduled on one day: Warning Warning you're about to max out your day put $5.00 in the toll. And if we exceed our weekly limit of activities the fines would double, ca-ching ca-ching!

I love looking forward. I like looking ahead. I want events on my calendar that draw me out of bed with curiosity and anticipation. My problem is having too many good things to look forward to. Sometimes the good thing is vacation with a travel date looming. Or a weekend to shop for new shoes and new clothes. I can hardly wait for the first "firsts" of each season. Whether it's the first snow or the first rain or the first thunderstorm that first one can be magical. A brand new kind of good thing was my first phone call (post-divorce) from a blind date. I might even note on the calendar the discovery of a rocking new band  on SNL called Foster the People.

My calendar does more than denote the passage of time forward it brings me backward to all that was willing, thrilling and chilling. It's like a scrapbook of my life carefully documented with words and dates. Oh look I have a free hour next Tuesday. Pencil me in for some auto body work. I need some outta body girl time for a mani/pedi.....but only if I'm done by 3:00pm because I'm booked and I still have to do X, Y, and ZZZZZZ.

Right Turn Only

There was an old lady who drove, she lived in a sunny white cove, 

she shopped every day, she knew the right way, 

but never a left turn she wove.

I'd heard of a woman that only made right turns. She prided herself on getting to her destinations by only straight aways and right turns. If a left was looming ahead she might go a block out of her way in order to turn right and then position herself back on that corner now set up to turn right. It was safe this way with no confrontation with traffic - even though most of her traffic was 80 year old codgers driving golf carts in a senior community.

When I think of right turns in traffic I think of going with the flow, agreeing with the crowd, following your peers, AND not finding your voice. Since turning 50 I have a bit more clarity in my life and often I'm surprised at how the choices I make are purposeful now. I can see the left choice and the right choice and I like to surprise myself by taking the left one more often than not. Don't they say taking the road less travelled makes all the difference?

I remember the early days of The Seinfeld Show when Jerry and Elaine would just blurt out their thoughts with hardly a consideration whether the truth was offensive or just humorous. It was their truth and they had to say it: whether it was Elaine fighting with the Soup Nazi or Jerry scolding Newman for rightly being a jerk. During the heyday of that show, I was stepping into the elevator at work empowered by a Seinfeld episode only to find this gorgeous 7ft man beside me. I was so taken by his generous height and his good looks that I became Elaine and blurted out....."where have you been all my life? Here I settled for a man 2 inches shorter than me." Immediately after, I wondered did I just think that or did I say that out loud? Sure enough, we both laughed and then I knew.

Left turns can lead to interesting discoveries. I took a virtual left turn by attending my first orchestra concert. This classic rock mama now loves being swept away by the strings and stirred by the drums and taken in by the horns. My culinary left turn was to lose the red sauce on my pizza and make this out of this world club turkey pizza with mayo, bacon and cheese. And who knew the left turn into the water park would become my trifecta of new left turn ideas.

There are times when traffic doesn't allow a left turn and then you have to trust that a Higher Power has made that decision for your safety and then you follow and obey. I'm a very obedient person by nature but I like to think my left turns are succeeding in making my life a bit more colorful and a bit more interesting.

There now is a lady that drives, it's left not the right that she strives,

 for the scenery ahead has changed in her head,

her momentum might change all your lives

Caution: Deer next 120 yards

We had a "dear" in our yard last night, just the cutest little white fluffy poodle. Funny, you never see poodles in our neighborhood and never one that's lost and running all whackadoo throughout the streets. This dear little Missy was hot, dirty, and Frisky with a capital F.She made a bee line for Gizmo and would not let him alone until she had her way with him. And then she did it again and again. I had Giz on a lease so I could have pulled him away but I thought, heck - it's his birthday week, why not get a little? So I turned my back and let the hook up happen right there in the yard.

There was no morning after awkwardness, no promises to call next Saturday, it was just a quick wham bam thank you ma'am, and she was trotting away with a big smile on her face. Gizmo looked a little dazed and he wobbled for a second but then he caught his manly stride and walked away on all fours humming a little Rod Stewart - Do you think I'm sexy, and you want my body....

Sex in our world is so much more complicated. There are rules that get broken when you have quick hookups. Big deep spiritual ones, mildly frowned upon cultural rules, and agonizing heart break when some one gets hurt from the hook up. Not all romps are as casual as Samantha Jones had it in Sex and The City.

Ah, but in a dog's world that's all you get are quick hook ups. There's no courtship and marriage and a white picket fence to look forward to. There's no golden rule to follow as you honor your spiritual relationship with your Maker. It's all fun, sun, and a little something something on the side. That dear little one ran away from us last night despite our best efforts to lure her in so we could read her tags and send her home. She kept on trotting across the yards and busy streets determined to find her way in this new world without a lease. I feel a little bit like my leash is off and I'm finding my way in the world again.

Maybe I'll see our dear little Miss again and when I do I'll remind her that being free is The Shawshank Redemption but she doesn't have to jump every dog in celebration. God will send the right Dalmatian or Great Dane when the timing is right, you just gotta put yourself out there in the yard and wait for it.......