AM I SNARKY? CAN I BE?

I like the word my daughter coined - somehow it fits in with the next paragraph.

I have done something that for years I have said I could not do. I have always admired short, spikey hair,, especially on older women, but have continually said that I did not have a cute enough face to get away with it.

Well, you know what? I don't really care anymore. Right now my hair is EXTREMELY short and spikey (although my spellcheck is not accepting that word), and if I had the money, it would be violet or bright pink. I like it, and I don't really care if I have the face or not.

Part of this rebellious streak may be from listening to a 70's satellite station. Songs that remind me of high school and college, what I was doing, what I was anticipating, where I thought I was headed. And yes, it does bother just a tiny little bit that my husband has absolutely no idea that my favorite song of all time is "Just You & Me" by Chicago (which they played about 10 minutes ago). That he still doesn't really like horses even after we'd had two for four-going-on-five years. That he spends the vast majority of time at home in his bedroom watching CNN and petting his greyhound.

But really, just a tiny little bit.

See, I was going to marry a cowboy-yet-liberal-and-well-educated (can we already see that this was purely fantasy?), raise and train horses while running a stables that would be a safe haven for troubled teenager. Didn't anticipate marrying someone who ended up making the military and terrorism their life.

But right now I am okay with all this. It's a guarantee that life is what happens while you are planning for something else, and I keep relearning that the sooner you accept that, the happier you can be.

There - your fortune cookie saying for the night, to go along with your egg drop soup.