Well, it’s August again.

It’s hot again. It’s sticky again. It’s sweaty again.

Kids are back in school. Papers upon papers were signed. Supplies upon supplies were purchased. Open houses were attended. Lunches have been assembled. Pre-teen and teen are begrudgingly putting one foot in front of the other, one early-morning alarm at a time.

New beginnings, fresh starts, clean slates. In the midst of the oppressive heat and humidity. Again.

Time to make the doughnuts.

“I got you, babe.”

Here we go. Again. Feeling rather meh. And why, pray tell, would anyone write a blog post about “meh?” Furthermore, why would anyone read it? Where’s the positive spin? Where’s the life lesson? What’s the point?

When I decided to blog my life, I mostly wanted to have a space to display my writing style for potential employers. And then I realized how much it helped me be a sane person. So I said a prayer to God and the universe that I would always try to stay true in my blog to be a positive force for good in the world. And this blog has blessed me. And it has blessed some readers and not blessed others…I’ve certainly heard both. Hey, you can’t please everyone, right? And I still work hard to stay true to blogging for what I know to be true and good, as best as I can.

But I’ve found that it’s getting harder. This life stage I’ve somehow found myself in is super strange.

I’m 46. Which means: 1. My body has changed in some unpleasant ways. 2. I’m witnessing precious marriages blow up left and right. 3. In two years, my oldest will leave home. Don’t even get me started.  4. My youngest is buying makeup. 5. My parents are getting older. 5. I don’t know what music to listen to anymore. 6. Am I allowed to dance in public anymore? 7. Routinely flogging myself for watching horrible tv that mature adults shouldn’t watch. 8. My celebrity crush is now Stephen Colbert.

And all of being 46 plus the worst political times of my lifetime and during the most appalling, least human, worst gut punch of a presidency and administration. Where only some people’s rights matter. Every day the news is horrific and frightening.

So TBH- this is where I am. To use an Oprah line and twist it to take it to a new low: I am not living my best life.

I’m not. Wow. How’s that for a depressing line? Before all 46-year-olds blow our collective brains out, let me also say something that I believe in my heart, that I know is bold, as well as a challenge and a middle finger to the universe: I know it’s going to get better.

My mother used to say that to me when I was down about something. It sounds trite but it’s something that I’m touching down on a lot right now. I thank her for gifting me those simple but necessary words. Because you know what? She’s always been right.

The other line I’m touching down on a lot these days is that British line- that “carry on” thing they do. Like, yeah, life sucks, so what, just freaking carry on, ok? Is it weird that I find that comforting? Maybe, but I do. Carry on- go be an adult. Just put your head down or your chin the hell up and carry on. Shit happens to everybody and everybody has to be 46 (except those that don’t and I definitely don’t want to be them, lol). And other countries have appalling, shitty Presidents and even worse conditions. And maybe this is the American in me, but I read that British line with a twinge of “things will get better” at the end. That’s my interpretation, anyway, and it helps me.

I’m writing this, wondering if others are feeling the meh. For all I know, it’s just me and y’all all think I need to go check in to rehab for “exhaustion” like the celebs. Ain’t nobody got time for that. I’ve got kids to raise, a husband to nag :-), dinners to cook, jobs to find, family and friends to love, plants to water, blogs to write, horrible tv to watch, books to read, dogs to walk.

It’s ok. I’m not living my best Oprah life but I’m ok. I’m having to dig deeper but that’s ultimately what makes us stronger.

It will get better. Carry on, y’all.


Carry On

by fun.

Well I woke up to the sound of silence the cars
Were cutting like knives in a fist fight
And I found you with a bottle of wine
Your head in the curtains and heart like the fourth of July

You swore and said we are not
We are not shining stars
This I know
I never said we are

Though I’ve never been through hell like that
I’ve closed enough windows to know you can never look back

If you’re lost and alone
Or you’re sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground
Carry on

Carry on, carry on

So I met up with some friends in the edge of the night
At a bar off seventy five
And we talked and talked about how our parents will die
All our neighbors and wives

But I like to think
I can cheat it all
To make up for the times, I’ve been cheated on
And it’s nice to know
When I was left for dead
I was found and now I don’t roam these streets
I am not the ghost you want of me

If you’re lost and alone or you’re sinking like a stone,
Carry on
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground and
Carry on

Woah my head is on fire
But my legs are fine
After all they are mine
Lay your clothes down on the floor
Close the door
Hold the phone
Show me how
No one’s ever gonna stop us now

‘Cause we are
We are shining stars
We are invincible
We are who we are
On our darkest day
When we’re miles away
So we’ll come, we will find our way home

If you’re lost and alone
Or you’re sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground and
Carry on