It's all a journey.

Novelist Kathy Holmes (Real Women Wear Red) has a wonderful series of posts on her blog about the process of going home. In Kathy's case, home is Oregon, the state she moved to at 16.

With the exception of a few years as a transient Air Force brat, I've never lived anywhere but Denver, but Kathy's essays still resonated. I realized why today.

Home can be something other than a physical place. For those of us making an emotional journey, home can be the state of being where we're finally comfortable in our own skin. Perhaps it's reclaiming the wonder and joy we had as children. Perhaps it's achieving the self-acceptance we always wanted and were, often unknowingly, traveling toward.

Whether the home you're searching for is geographic or spiritual, I encourage you to visit Kathy's site. It's great!

Playing on iTunes: Silver Thunderbird by Marc Cohn.

Last week's Quote of the Week

"During midlife it is natural for psychic energy to be redirected to our inner world to do reflective inner work. Lethargy comes upon us for no apparent reason. Things that once interested us no longer hold our attention. These are inner taps on the shoulder for us to go within, to find our Self, and to search out new meaning to our lives."
-- Robyn Vickers-Willis, from Navigating Midlife: Women Becoming Themselves

The things we do to torture ourselves...

I love Sharper Image. Really. But sometimes even I have to admit that its products can be a little...bizarre.

A few weeks ago, my husband (aka: Spouse Unit Hubby Man, aka: SUHM) and I were trolling through SI's personal care section. SUHM picked up a nifty, little device and studied it.

"What the heck is this?" he asked.

I scanned the label. "Home electrolysis kit."

"You mean electrocution."

"Nooo," I said patiently. "I mean e-lec-trol-y-sis. Sis. Sisssss."

SUHM, a chemist by training and organizational safety specialist by trade, didn't get it. He held up a flat, white pad (upper lip size). The pad was tethered to something that looked like a joystick by a thin, pale wire.

"Conduction mechanism. Current source," SUHM said. "E-lec-tro-cu-tion. Zzzzap!" He poked me. "Remember that other thing you got here? The Hair Ripper?"

I shuddered. The device he mentioned was like a little, personal lawnmower for unwanted hair. Manufactures promised it would glide easily over the skin, plucking hair strand by strand, and would be no more painful than an eyebrow tweeze.

SUHM laughed. "Remember when you tried to give yourself a bikini..."

I elbowed him. Of course I remembered! Everyone in a six-mile radius of our home probably remembered. That &@#$! Hair Ripper hurt!

Behind us, a man snorted. A nearby sales clerk sighed. Clearly, the mini-home electrolysis kit was not going home with me.

Well...at least not tonight.

Playing on iTunes: Imagine Me by Kirk Franklin.

Last week's Quote of the Week

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned the hard way that some poems don't rhyme and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it...without knowing what's going to happen next."
-- Gilda Radner

Calling all writers!

Having a little trouble staying motivated? Author Tayari Jones has a great idea. She recommends creating a word-o-meter to keep track of your progress.

Tayari's tracking her word count on her blog, and I'm tracking mine here. Join the fun!

What I'm listening to right now: Silent Treatment by Michael Palmer, narrated by the wonderful George Guidall

Take a breath...

"We do not have to become heroes overnight. Just a step at a time, meeting each thing that comes up...discovering we have the strength to stare it down."

-- Eleanor Roosevelt

Wise woman. Wise words.

As a responsible blogger, I must say...

I will not write about Paris Hilton! I will not write about Paris Hilton! I will not write about Paris Hilton -- but, OMG! After seven mini-days in prison (where 15 minutes equals 24 hours according to her lawyers), she's shed her vanity, reclaimed her intellect, found religion and promised to dedicate the remainder of her life to helping people less fortunate than herself, which, financially speaking, is, um, everybody.

I don't want to be cynical or snarky, but...it's sooooo hard not to.

So, I'll go back to my mantra: I will not write about Paris Hilton! I will not write about Paris Hilton! I will not write about Paris Hilton!

Playing on iTunes: How Little We Know by Linda Eder. She sounds a lot like a young Barbra Streisand.