idontbelieveingrammar

I have a friend with maybe the cutest 4 year old twin girls I have ever seen (except maybe my nieces). And the other day she brought them to lunch. Our very grown up, limited time, wine, appetizers and pasta lunch somewhere near a Tiffanys. (in other words I was underdressed). But they sat there perfectly eating their pasta and playing on the ipads while we talked,  made toasts and got the stink eye from our neighbors for being too loud and inappropriate! (we were too loud, not the preschoolers!). Our lunch went on well into the afternoon. And still they sat. Cutely. And quietly Eventually it was time to move on. Plans were made and these two littles were shuffled back to the other parent. Whose weekend it really was. And they were less than happy about it.But there mom, told them the adusted plan. Asked if it was ok? and then said this… “Is that ok with your heart” ...

Growing up I used to hate "cleaning day", because my mom would tell me to pick up my room, that the housekeeper was coming. Which I thought was pure irony. W asn't it the housekeeper's job to clean. Why should I clean for her to come and do the same thing? B ut apparenly there has to be some portion of your bedroom floor visible if someone else is going to vacuum it. So once a week, after being reminded repeatedly...I'd roll my eyes and then pile everything on my floor on top of my creepy antique bed. I'd come home from school that day to find little lines in my carpet, the wood polished and all my dirty clothes, YM magazines, homework and mixe tapes all piled right back up on top of my now perfectly made bed with clean sheets. She'd even picked up my clear neon phone and placed it neatly on my bedside table. ( I loved that phone). Then I moved off to college and there was no cleaning lady. But thankfully I lived in a room about the size of most ...

I come from numbers. My dad is a CPA, my mom is a CPA, even my older brother is a CPA and even Although I don't think I have attempted to balance a checkbook since the 90s, my math sat scores were still impressive. I usually like to think that I left all that nice neat left braindedness behind in my high school calculus class. I talk in circles. I rarely drive straight. and nothing in my life seems to fit a formula. and sometimes I miss those nice assured answers. The ones you can be certain of. The ones that can be checked at the back of the book. Instead, I am all over the place. I have no sense of limits. I do not show my work. I can never prove my answer. I and am one eraser mark short of tearing a hole right through the page. But I still find myself counting. counting the minutes. counting the days. counting the miles. counting backwards to go to sleep. counting my blessings. The other night as I was in that place of almost sleep, I rememb...