Alright! It’s 9:00 and the kids are in bed. But, a storm is coming through and the power is out. No internet, but the laptop works fine. And I have three hours of battery life left. I am sitting on the bed and I can see my reflection in the dresser mirror. I look like some mystic with a glowing crystal ball in front of me. Or like the ghost story teller at a campout, with the flashlight held under my chin. It seems like a good night to write a ghost story…

Odds and Ends
I was at a stop sign behind a minivan a couple of days ago. It had a license plate frame that said “LIFE IS SACRED.” In the window, it had a bumper sticker that read, “Go Army.” Is there such a word as oxymoronism?

My daughter-who-will-be-four-in-three-weeks has quite the social calendar. She’s had an average of 1.5 birthday parties per week this month. And she’s got dance recital coming up. Pictures are on Saturday. I’m trying to think how I might persuade her to sit still while I put on her makeup. It almost makes me feel a bit cringy. Hopefully, it is not the insidious start of beauty pageant momdom. I can see the cover of the tell-all non-fiction book now: Confessions of a Pageant Mom.

The trees whip around in the wind, and passing showers of hard raindrops clatter on the windows and skylights. I hope my tomatoes don’t get flattened. I like storms. I Can feel their raucous churning energy flowing through me. I feel the sizzling shiver of lighting in my skin and the thunder echoes somewhere deep inside my being.