Where Worlds and Decades Collide

And I would be remiss not to include my annual giggle as @DarinRMcClure tries his hand at being all "Halmark-y"
It's like watching your life pass before your eyes, not death, but the celebration of one's birthday on Facebook. Where worlds and decades collide.

Childhood friends, both the Minnesota and Vermont contingent, relatives, my long lost brother, college roommates, neighbors now and then, others who I have collected along the many misadventures. They all pop in your timeline and it's wonderful.

Bits and pieces of memories start flooding back. Saying "Goodbye" to my Minnesota friends at 15, not knowing we would all be connected via this thing called the internet years later. Sharing the tales of motherhood with girls I used to giggle about boys with. The fashion faux pas and the big hair.

Vermont - High School
Driving Kirk's Camero too fast into the school parking lot wearing a paper Burger King crown, and now seeing him as a proud Daddy of three beautiful children. Tom who once lived down the street and now calls Abu Dhabi home.

Burlington, Vermont
Burlington both during my four years at UVM and a couple more. Whne Nectars was just a local bar and I would try to avoid waitressing on the nights Phish played to avoid the barefoot hippies dancing like crazy ordering water and paying for draft beers in pennies.

The Seattle era of too much coffee, too many micro brews and never enough music, music, music.

Los Angeles
My Braille students and Braille community and their giving giving hearts. It was a time of learning I had something important to contribute and that there was great joy to giving that contribution

San Clemente
My San Clemente surf contingent sharing their Aloha and teaching me the value of play. Being taken in by my husbands family and all of them showing up and giving support to my biggest project yet ... bringing Kate into this world.

And to the now. Realizing that all those special moments were created in the now.

Now I don't play golf

Every morning I walk the dogs on the hill up behind the golf course. I pass the golfers on my way to and on my way from. On one particular morning I was witness to an episode that while I found it funny I also could really feel for the golfer because like many of us I do not like being told what to do or how to do it.

As I returned from my dog walk I noticed a white fix-it van had slowed down across the street from where the golfers tee off. The driver pulled to the side and was watching the golfers.

"Hey!" he called out. "You keep doing this with you swing. You need to swing more like this." Now, I didn't see the instructional gesture he gave out so generously, but that's okay because I heard the golfer's response and that's all I needed.

"Hey, thanks buddy." It was a veiled gracious tone with a warning of "...okay you can shut up now."

But the driver of the fix-it van didn't get the hint.

"Yah, you could really improve your swing if you could just fix that one part."

"Okay buddy" the golfer replied, more of a warning than anything.

But wait, it gets better.

"Now I don't play golf ..." continued the man in the white repair van.

Now by this time I am ROLLING, but keeping it all inside.

"... I have a friend who's a golf pro." Hahahaha

I turned the corner to avoid any golf clubs being thrown just in case.