You Can Quote Me On That

a09e7bba4c2f45dd4fe827e38bae757bWhat is it about quotes that prompts us all to copy and paste them on our Facebook walls, insert them into our blogs, or pin them to our boards on Pinterest? I went in search of one myself today, and I’m always reading others shared by friends or acquaintances.  Is it another by-product, I wonder, of this fast paced world we live in? We don’t even want to take the time to articulate our own feelings, so we borrow words of wisdom, brilliant observations, heartfelt emotions and life lessons to be learned from someone else?

I love quotes. There’s something about finding a sentence or phrase that describes exactly the way you’re feeling, maybe when you can’t express that emotion yourself, for whatever the reason, or just because it resonates with you at that moment in time.  Maybe you’re not even sure how you’re feeling and then you come across something that says what you couldn’t quite put into words.  At least not then. Or you just need a little lift, something that makes you smile, hope, feel like you’re not the only one who’s ever felt that way.

I have favorite quotes that come from a wide spectrum of sources: famous authors, historians, athletes, celebrities, comedians and movies.  I know that movie characters don’t necessarily count as bona fide quote makers, but I love them all the same.  Oh, and television too.  Meredith Grey comes out with some of the most profound earth-shattering truths, and I prefer not to remember that her lines are scripted by the very talented Shonda Rimes.  It suits my purposes to continue to believe Meredith is someone who feels what I feel, loves like I love, and deals with life from the same skewed perspective I do.

Meredith: “Okay, here it is, your choice… it’s simple, her or me, and I’m sure she is really great. But Derek, I love you, in a really, really big ‘pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window’, unfortunate way that makes me hate you, love you. So pick me, choose me, love me.”

Movie favorites: “For Love of The Game” of course….

Jane:  “You’re perfect. You, and the ball, and the diamond, you’re this perfectly beautiful thing. You can win or lose the game, all by yourself. You don’t need me.”

Billy (at the end) :  “So I just wanted to tell you, not to change your mind or keep you from going, but just so you know, that I know, that I do need you.” The scene at the airport was a classic tear-jerker.

And Notting Hill. Julia Roberts’ character, in love with Hugh Grant, tells him:

Anna:  “I’m a just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her” *sigh* Thank goodness for happy endings. I also have a quote from Julia Roberts, actress, wife and mother, on my Facebook page, and I couldn’t have said it better myself:

“I believe that two people are connected at the heart, and it doesn’t matter what you do, or who you are or where you live; there are no boundaries or barriers if two people are destined to be together.”

When it comes to comedians, there was no one in the history of funny smarts better than George Carlin. That man knew how to take every day life and poke fun at it with more truth than anyone I’ve ever heard. You laughed, sometimes til it hurt, because you knew he was right; most of it we experienced at one time or another and it felt good to acknowledge the absurdity of it all.

“The reason I talk to myself is because I’m the only one whose answers I accept.”

“Ever notice that anyone going slower than you is an idiot, but anyone going faster is a maniac?”

“I’m always relieved when someone is delivering a eulogy and I realize I’m listening to it.”

In the wide world of sports, Yogi Berra takes the cake for his serious, if not grammar-flawed observations on life and the game of baseball. He was wise in his own way, and we loved him for it. Here are some infamous Yogi-isms:

On why NY lost the 1960 series to Pittsburgh “We made too many wrong mistakes”

“Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical.”

“He hits from both sides of the plate. He’s amphibious.”

In case you haven’t figured it out by now,  the answer to my opening question is a resounding no.  I don’t use other people’s quotes because I’m in a hurry, or lazy.  I’m searching, trying to make sense out of things, and I appreciate the experience and wisdom of those who came before me, fictional as well as real.  Or who are in the here and now, going through the same kind of life transitions and adventures that I am. Young, old, tall, short, smart, funny and in the know. I want what they have to say to touch something in me, urge a response in me. You know, to poke me, prod me, nudge me a little. Make me think, make me feel, maybe even make me act. Reading a good quote makes me feel better knowing I’m not the only one who doubts or worries my way through life.  Who needs some encouragement from time to time. Or sometimes,  who just needs a good laugh.

Those crazy ecards don’t really qualify as quotes, but they usually make me laugh, and I find myself admitting and agreeing that I feel exactly the same way more often than not, because what they say is usually pretty true and right on the mark.  And by the way, whoever invented Pinterest was a genius. Virtual vision boards where you can plan an entire life based on famous quotes, song lyrics, recipes, fashion tips, home decorating and relationship advice from the global universe.  Plus you can organize all those quotes, song lyrics, words of wisdom, perfectly matched outfits, wants, dreams and future plans in easy to find places. Not to mention the validation you feel when others, many of them perfect strangers, re-pin all those fabulous ideas you can’t wait to implement. Anyway, here’s a typical ecard:

I cannot deny that this is true……dog

Back to quotes. There’s a reason why they exist, and why we can find one so easily on any subject we happen to be thinking about or struggling with.  It’s because words make an impact, they leave an impression.  If you go to Google and search for quotes about love, hope, friendship, encouragement, hurt, dreams, relationships, parenting, inspiration and my favorite, broken hearts, thousands of them amid a plethora of quote websites pop up.  I’m pretty sure you could  find that one quote that would tug at your heartstrings, prompt you to say, “Yes, that’s exactly how I feel,” and end with you posting it somewhere for others to see and comment on.

I’m probably drawn to serious, more introspective quotes most of all.  I need inspiration, motivation, verification, supplication and stimulation on a daily basis, so I think it’s okay to seek fortification from those who apparently have walked in my shoes and felt what I’m feeling at one time or another. Wisdom and experience are often the best teachers, and I’m a pretty open and willing-to-learn student of life.

To close, I would be remiss in my responsibilities as an ethical writer/blogger if I didn’t remind you to always attribute your quotes when you use them. Even though some of those people whose quotes you’re passing along probably had no idea they’d end up on Google someday, they deserve not to be plagiarized by any of us trying to pass off someone else’s brilliance as our own.



I Often Wonder Why

ParisWhen God closes a door, he opens a window. Everything happens for a reason. I believe there’s something, someone better for you out there, you just haven’t found it yet.  Stop looking, and when you do, it will happen.  All those clichés I’ve heard countless times over the course of my lifetime.  And the big one:  It must be fate.

Sometimes I’m sure I think too much, about everything. When you believe in fate, do you make excuses for the things that happen? You’re convinced something or other must be a sign, so shouldn’t you do something, or say something to someone, because that must be part of some bigger picture that you just aren’t seeing quite yet?

How random are the things that happen to us and the people who come in and out of our life? Is everything part of the master plan, with outcomes that really only depend on our choice of response? I ask why a lot.  And I hope a lot, because I believe that the things that happen to me really do happen for a reason. Until nothing happens.  Or things happen that are beyond my control, that make me angry, sad or disappointed.  Then I become Skeptical Sue, and question all that I say, think, feel, act on.  Do I make bad choices? Am I too trusting, too naïve? Do I watch too much TV, read too many novels, listen to too many country songs? Maybe.  But in the end, in the big picture scheme of things, I think I’d rather believe that my life is a mixture of fate, choices, random circumstances and events, and most of all, my gut, than anything else.

That’s right. That indefinable, indescribable feeling I have that I surround myself with the right people, and that somehow it really all will work out. The job, the guy, the bills, the house, the rest of this life I’ve yet to live.

So, I guess I’ll relax a little, and try to embrace my trusting, sentimental, spiritual Pollyanna side for a while longer. One of my closest friends told me once that I have mushy DNA, and he’s right.

No matter how hard I try to be more practical, and convince myself that the glass is really half empty, someone always comes along to top it off.

I Want To Pump Me Up

Working OutThis girl definitely seems like she’s having a blast, and I promise you if I woke up in the morning, looked in the mirror and saw that body looking back at me, I’d be having lots of fun too. And not just at the gym.

I used to work out all the time, and I did have fun, even while I was swearing and sweating.  I never came close to looking like her, but I did kind of have a 2-pack or areas that were indented somewhere around my belly button.  I had more energy, smaller clothes, and a bigger smile. I miss that body (mine, not hers) and I’ve been trying for about a year now to get it back.

I joined a gym and got myself a personal trainer in January of 2004, at the ripe old age of 49. Just decided it was time, my son was working at LA Fitness and I thought it would be easier if I knew someone there who could help me if I had a problem. If? How about when. I had no idea what I was doing,  and I thought I was being pretty stealth about it on those fancy machines until the head trainer came up to me one day and asked if I might be interested in some pointers. Sure, I said,  have at it. It definitely was better having someone actually tell me what to do and how to do it,  so I signed up for the monthly personal training plan, went through a few different trainers, and then found one I really liked. Within a few days with him, I realized when you work out, you’re supposed to sweat. A lot.  Apparently those other guys were just putting me through the motions, and Dave and I were getting down to some serious business. I started losing weight, seeing muscles I didn’t know were there, and felt better all the way around.

When Dave left LA Fitness, I followed him to a new,  kind of bare bones gym in an industrial complex, and I liked that one even better. No fancy machines, no naked people in the locker room, and no perfectly put together chicks reading magazines while they strolled on the treadmill. Everyone worked out there, and I was one of  those people. I was also divorced by then, dating some younger guys and feeling pretty good about being in shape.

I lost my job in September of 2010, had a car accident, no money, and didn’t go to the gym anymore. If you had told me then I wouldn’t set foot in a gym again for two and a half years I’d have said you were crazy, but that’s what happened. Got out of the habit, made one excuse after another, said I’d figure it out on my own, and proceeded to gain weight and feel like a squishy sponge. Yuk! Help! Plan B: I bought some of those exercise videos, thinking I’d work out in the privacy of my bedroom. First one I WATCHED was Jillian Michaels’ Trouble Spots or something like that.  I stood in front of the TV, real close up, so I could pay attention to what they were doing, make sure  I could follow along.  Yep, I’m a good watcher. Okay, I said,  that looks familiar, I can do that, oh yeah baby, work those glutes, yeah, that’ll be great when I’m in the right clothes and I can get into it. You know what happened next, right? My eyeballs were the only things that ever got a workout. I put the video away for the “right time” to work out and I never saw it again.

Then it was time for Dancing With The Stars Season ? and I saw Louis van Amstel on GMA hawking his dance videos, so I bought TWO of those. Variety is the spice of life they say, and everyone needs two exercise videos since they’ll get so bored after doing the first one over and over.  I never cracked the plastic on those things, and I have no idea where they even are. So much for spice. Or exercise.

Found a great new job in January of 2011, and in December I rejoined LA Fitness. $34.99 a month, brand new gym, I was excited.  On that day, really, I was excited, couldn’t wait to get started. Didn’t set foot in there for 6 months I was so excited, so I froze the membership. Now I was PAYING $10 a month to do nothing, and my butt was not shrinking on its own. In the meantime, Dave and his wife had opened their own gym.  CrossFit Insanity.  I kind of knew what CrossFit was and I had to do something, so last August I signed up over there, determined to get back on track.

Let me just say that CrossFit is a great program, and I didn’t hate it. At least not most of it, and I sweat ALOT. You could have mopped the floor with what was running off me and I made sure there was a defibrillator on site.  I never quite mastered things like snatch and muscle ups (okay, I couldn’t do them at all)  but I was pretty good at the warm up part with the PVC pipe. You kind of twirled it like a baton and stretched, that stuff was okay. Crawling along the floor doing inchworms was the worst, especially when I’d look up and realize I was the only one still in the middle of the floor. You also run a lot in CrossFit, sometimes carrying a very large sandbag like the ones that army guys use.  I had shin splints the first week, wore compression socks after that, started going to the chiropractor every week, used a foam roller so I could get out of bed in the morning and found myself saying things like “No, I’m not doing that” at the gym far too often. So, with a heavy heart, I told Dave & Mara that as much as I loved them, this wasn’t working for me, and call me, we’ll go for sushi sometime.

New year, new beginnings. January Jump Start, everybody’s heading back to the gym after the food orgy known as the holidays. I have to be the rebel ~ I’ll start in February or March, after the rush. So I went for the first time a few weeks ago. Met a friend there, walked around, checked it out, did the elliptical for a few minutes, tried some machines, and decided I better get into some classes. That’s more organized, not leaving too much up to me. We know where that ended up last time.

First up was Zumba.  I’m not overly coordinated, but I can dance, and it looked like fun. The class was crowded, and we were in the back row so no one could see what we were doing and laugh. I’m kidding, people were really nice and I did have fun, as well as a great workout.  Once I get the moves down I’m sure it’ll be even better. The girl in front of me with the little coin infested skirt/scarfy thing over her pants was REALLY having fun, so I’m thinking about one of those too. I can see how all those shiny circles jangling around when you move would definitely motivate one to shake their booty that much more.  Spin class was scheduled for the next night.

We lasted 15 minutes in the spin class.  It took me 15 minutes before the class even started to adjust the cement seat to the right height, strap my feet in and figure out how in the hell I could even sit on that thing for two seconds.  I was sweating though, so I took my really cute little matching nylon jacket off and tied it around my waist.  The first time we got to pedal SLOW I was doing everything I could to stuff the sleeves, the bottom of the jacket, whatever I could grab without falling off the bike, under MY seat for some PADDING. My feet were strapped onto the pedals, can you just imagine falling off that thing while you’re still strapped in? I bet those wheels would just keep on turnin’ too. Could not wait to get out of there. AND it was boring.  Pedal, sit, pedal, stand, and the instructor was yelling out numbers I have no idea what for.  Gears? Rounds? Lift off? SERIOUSLY. HATED. IT.  I’m glad I tried it though, because otherwise I wouldn’t know what to avoid like the plague in the future.

The important thing is I’m trying, I’m back at the gym exercising, and I feel better knowing I’m doing something.  So I’ll try a little bit of this, a little bit of that, find out what works best for me, and maybe next year I’ll be a little closer to having a body I’ll be happy to call mine.

Love Is All Around Us

VJ_Day_Kiss_Alfred_Eisenstaedt_480x360The best part about working at the Daily Pilot was the people I got to meet, and this was one of my favorite stories to write.  My byline was dated February 16, 2008, and five years later, I still feel exactly the same way. Happy Valentine’s Day!!


Interesting guys not waiting online

Love was all around this week, as the song goes. I felt it in my fingers, I felt it in my toes.

Valentine’s Day tends to bring out the romantic and sentimental in a lot of us, and I have to admit I’m smitten.

Smitten. That’s an old-fashioned word you don’t hear too much of anymore, but it’s really appropriate here, because the objects of my affection are the debonair, charming, funny, well-spoken, intelligent and attentive 80 years and older men I have had the good fortune to meet as a Daily Pilot reporter.

Oh, I know I’m supposed to practice objective journalism and all that, but I’m sorry, this girl just couldn’t help herself.

I’m single, and the latest adventure in my life is this whole online dating phenomenon. You guessed it, I’m on Reading profiles, looking at pictures and wondering what on Earth this world has come to.

I’m not sure some of these guys have a clue who they are, where they’ve been or what they want.  I think that’s what separates those “boys” from the men I’ve met.

I had lunch on the patio deck at Newport Landing last week with Jim Gagne, who told me stories about his days as a World War II vet on Iwo Jima.

He also told me about all the times he took Jake, his black standard poodle, to some bar around the corner from Newport Landing, where the dog sat on a stool and drank beer out of an ashtray.

It was a beautiful, sunny day, I laughed like crazy, and I wished he were on I’m kidding. He’s a very happily married man, and I’m no Jezebel.

Newport Beach firefighter Milton Meehan told me the story of how he spent the night guarding the remains of the Vincent Lido Drugstore after it burned in the ’60s.

Milton’s fellow firefighter was walking around inspecting the store when he came across a bottle of self-tanning lotion and decided to try some. It was dark, the guy wasn’t sure it was working, so he kept applying it, and when the back-up team came to relieve them in the morning, Milton’s friend was glow-in-the-dark orange and didn’t report to work for three days.

I laughed so hard I almost fell out of my office chair. Milton’s got a natural gift for story telling.

Allan Fainbarg, 85, recalled every detail of the journey he made as a 17-year-old Sea Scout. He had a banker box full of memories I urged him to have someone document, put down on paper, preserve.

What about the men today? What memories will they be able to share 20 or 30 years from now? We’re a workaholic, merry-go-round society, fast-paced, competitive and moving onward and upward, constantly reaching for the brass ring.

I met my friend Charles Lamb (and we really are friends, I think) when I covered Emma Louise Watkins’ 100th birthday party a few months back.

I think Charles sounds kind of like Jimmy Stewart, and he’s one of those guys who listens when you talk, makes you feel like what you’re saying is important, and he’s complimentary and sincere.

He also has a girlfriend, I found out. A 59-year-old girlfriend. See, I’m not the only one who knows how special these guys are.

I asked Charles about what sets his generation apart from the men of today.

“Well, we’ve had a much longer time in this world to accumulate experiences, time to put stuff in your biography,” he said.

“Some of these men have never been out of a job, or been to war.”

Charles said he also thinks men had a lot more respect for the women in their life, and relationships weren’t as casual as they seem to be today.  I told him about the whole thing, and he told me not to lose heart.

“You would be a catch,” this wonderful man told me.

Thanks, Charles. Thanks to all you guys who gave so much in so many ways, and for letting me share a little bit of that with the rest of the world.

Look out, though. I’m having lunch with Howard on Monday, and he just celebrated his 90th.



Every day is Valentine’s Day when you’re surrounded by people who love you.  A recurring theme for me this week has been how much the love and support of friends can make a difference in someone’s life. One of my friends who’s been experiencing all kinds of ongoing, serious health issues received a handmade doll from a girlfriend that was both humorous and incredibly touching at the same time. Reduced her to tears, and me right along with her.  Another of my close friends is facing surgery and the scary possibilities that go hand in hand with news like that, but I’m one of many who will be there to watch over her, feed her, tell her bad jokes in an effort to make her laugh, and be there for her even when she doesn’t ask for it.

This morning on Good Morning America they did a segment on support groups, focusing first on all that the family, and by that I mean the ABC family, and her friends have done to support Robin Roberts through what can only be one of the hardest fought battles of her life.  She’s returning to the show next week, and credits every one of  them for giving her hope and strength when she needed it most.

The other segment this morning was devoted to a group of women who have gone each week to be with their friend during her chemo treatment for ovarian cancer. For 10 weeks now, they show up, sometimes in cheerleader uniforms, sometimes with instruments, sometimes as rappers, singers, or poets, but always with some creative and usually funny plan to get their friend through an experience that often times leaves people scared and feeling alone.

And I don’t mean to imply that men are any less likely to be involved in similar expressions of love and steadfast support. I can’t think of a more poignant picture than the ones shown last night of the law enforcement officers huddled in the emergency room of Loma Linda Medical Center after learning that two sheriff’s’ deputies were in surgery. The sight of all those cars with their red lights on escorting the coroner’s van from the hospital broke my heart.  The aftermath of the Dorner incident has left wives without husbands and children without fathers, and I believe those men will do whatever needs to be done to comfort and help the families of those fallen officers. Their friends.

So while Hallmark and all the other florists, chocolatiers and advertisers focus on couples and urge extravagant displays of love and attention that most people can’t even live up to, I’ll celebrate the quiet displays of love and support between friends that I witness EVERY day.

Here’s the GMA link.  If you can find the video, watch it. I promise it will make you smile and inspire you:

Pet Projects

bookendsCooper & Simone. My two energetic Puggles.  When I’m feeling guilty about leaving them home for 8 hours a day while I’m off working, I remember this picture.  Sleeping bookends.  The problem is this type of activity only seems to occur when I’m gone or they’re recuperating from some covert endeavor they shouldn’t have been involved with in the first place.  Simone, on the left, is my  year-old puppy, and she really is high energy and high maintenance, at least when I’m around.  She just unraveled and chewed through the brand new roll of toilet paper I put in my bathroom.  My bad, I wasn’t paying attention for two minutes.  At four years old, Cooper has become the mature, just chillin’ member of this team, but he’s easily influenced by his younger sister’s antics.   It’s a classic case of oh, I forgot how much trouble there is to get into until she showed up.

I need to find some projects for my pets.  Some all-consuming activities that will keep them occupied and out of trouble for a specified block of time.  Maybe Simone could sculpt with Charmin, or Cooper could prep the planter for tulip bulbs instead of just trying to tunnel his way to China.

I’ve searched online and found boxes that you could hide treats in, with secret doors and compartments that encourage dogs to think. Think? I bought them each one of those big fat rubber Kong things you hide little snacks in at the small Mom and Pop pet store I like to shop at.  They assured me the dogs love them and they would spend hours trying to work those little nuggets out of that teeny tiny opening.

First they each wanted the one the other one had. Then it sounded like Armageddon in the kitchen.  Biting, growling, barking, chomping, and the red and blue Konger thingys were empty in about 10 minutes.  Crafts.  I’m telling you they need crafts.  Paw painting.  Canine Crayolas with coloring books full of foxy poodle pictures.  Maybe crocheting? Simone could make her own blankets and then shred them to bits when she was done.  I’d save millions, considering how many of mine she’s digested.

I think Cooper might like Karaoke.  He’s always been a barker and a howler, and maybe a little CD player with a microphone like my granddaughter has would be the way to go.  Simone could even do backup if he’d let her. The new Donny & Marie, you never know.  I bet I could get them on Ellen.

This whole concept needs more thought, and I’m open to suggestions.  In the meantime, I guess I’ll walk/run them for a few miles, tire them out and hope they’re too exhausted to come up with any ideas on their own.

Soul To Soul

Garth-Brooks-and-Trisha-YearwoodSoul To Soul is the title of the concert series  Tim McGraw and Faith Hill are performing in Las Vegas, which I saw and loved a few weeks ago, but they use the number 2 instead of the word to.  I don’t know if there are copyright laws about that stuff or not, and since I didn’t want to end up in the slammer for writing a blog, I decided to change the title of my post. Also, in case you were wondering,  I’m aware that the picture you’re looking at is of Trisha Yearwood & Garth Brooks, not Faith & Tim.  There is always a method to my madness, and their story comes later.

Soul To Soul. No matter which format you use, the meaning and message are the same.  One soul connects with another; two people share common interests, the same life values,  and in Tim & Faith’s case fabulous good looks (maybe it wouldn’t work  if she didn’t have killer legs and he didn’t have killer abs, I don’t know) kids, maybe some pets, a sense of humor and what looks like a healthy respect and genuine belief in each other and the unique qualities they bring to the table as individuals.  Don’t we all want to be with someone in a relationship like that? I know I do. I yearn to have someone who looks at me like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever seen, even when I wake up with bed hair and wrinkled sweats, and who loves me just the way I am. Yearn.  That’s the exact word I used to describe the way I felt when I saw the picture of the McGraws in the latest ad for their symbiotic fragrances.  Yes, they even have his and her scents. This is one serious partnership people.

Anyway, one of the many things I’ve learned over these past years as a single woman looking for the one I’m meant to be with is that someone can’t be your soul mate if they don’t think you’re theirs.  It’s a mutual, deeply intimate, almost indescribable kind of thing. I bet that astronaut woman who drove across the country in a diaper to be with the love of her life thought he was her soul mate too. The fact that part of her plan involved offing the woman he was supposedly involved with should have tipped her off though, in my opinion.  Details. Life’s a bitch sometimes, no doubt about it.

I hear or read about couplings and un-couplings every day. Celebrities, politicians, relatives and friends.  Sometimes I’m surprised by what I hear, sometimes not.  They say nobody ever really knows what goes on behind closed doors, but still. So many people get together or stay together for all the wrong reasons, so when the breakup finally happens, it’s not always a surprise. Like Kim Kardashian and Chris Humphries. We all knew that was a train wreck waiting to happen, didn’t we?

Then there’s the whole Jen-Angie-Brad thing. Boy, that was a scandal of epic proportions. Jennifer Aniston was the media darling, the golden girl. Angelina Jolie,  on the other hand, was a tatted up bad girl who wore her man’s blood in a vial on a chain around her neck and scared us with her incoherent ramblings til she found her inner mom and began adopting and procreating.

Back to my theme. Maybe Brad and Angie were soul mates. Maybe sometimes, when you least expect it, you just meet the person you’re supposed to be with for the rest of your life. I’m in no way advocating home wrecking or adultery, I’m just pointing out that many times we marry, cohabit, even just date, for the wrong reasons. Maybe you don’t even know you’re with the wrong person til you meet the right one.

I’m from a generation that married young, and stayed married, because we made a committment, we had kids, because it was hard for women on their own back then, and because we were defined by those roles. Wife, mother, keeper of the flame. I wasn’t married to a bad guy, but the biggest thing missing for me was the pom poms. That’s what I said, pom poms. I didn’t have a cheerleader in my corner, someone telling me to go for it, you can do it, I know the things that are important to you, that will help you grow and develop, spread your wings and fly, and I support you. I cheer you on, I want to see you cross the finish line.

I’m as surprised as anyone that Brad and Angie are still together, and that they have 25 or so children. But it appears that they do just that ~ cheer each other on,  parent and travel around the world together with their brood, making movies and what they feel is a difference in this world we live in. When I think about my friends who have divorced and remarried, I’m always struck by how much smarter they were the second time around. They knew what they wanted, they weren’t willing to settle, and it seems to me like they’re suitably matched. And happy.

I saw Trisha Yearwood on the cooking stage at the LA Times Festival of Books in 2010.  She was baking her 6-layer carrot cake, one of Garth’s favorites, and what I remember most is how many times she kept saying “my husband” when she would talk about Garth. Everyone there knew who her husband was, and his name, but even after 5 years of marriage, Trisha looked to me like she was loving being able to call him her husband.  Trisha & Garth waited a long time to be together. They had been good friends for many years, toured and performed together, there were even whispered rumors about a relationship between them, but both were married and I guess committed to keeping it that way. Garth had children, his wife was his manager, and Trisha was married for the second time.  Then, as fate would have it, marriages broke up, the timing was right, and they began dating. On May 25, 2005,  according to Wikipedia,  “Brooks proposed to Yearwood in front of 7,000 fans during a concert in Bakersfield, California and she accepted without hesitation.”

I think when it’s right you know it, and I believe there’s only one right person for each of us. It may take a few tries, it may take a few years, it may not be what you expected and it might be more than you ever hoped for, but I think your soul mate is worth waiting for.