Taking Stock

Every once (or thrice) in a lifetime, one may be inclined, through forces unforeseen, or some kind of milestone, or even the joy of fitting into a dress size smaller, the opportunity to contemplate the steps in one’s journey that brings the present forward.

I bring you mine.


Survives Childhood.

Is introduce to iced tea.

Loses virginity to a really good guy.

Sow seeds of debauchery and lives to know the difference.

Chooses ( And I do mean chooses) another really good guy- to marry.

Is threatened with jail time by Federal authorities upon discovery that father has your signature forged across his incorporated papers, of which he has disappeared and left you holding  the bag.

Begins to keep lawyers on retainer as a matter of normalcy. 

Has two amazing children.

Adopts another child you didn’t see coming.

Takes professional and financial risks because I (we) will be the author of our future and not some asshole in Washington or the disappointment of legacy.

Makes a lot of money.

Falls even more deeply in love with really good guy that she married.

Cultivates supremely insightful friends (which is code for they ‘get’ me). 

Sees the hard work of raising interesting, smart, curious, brave children- burst forth.

Sleeps deeply.

Begins menopause.

Sleeps less deeply.

Embraces the science supporting HRT (and Botox).

Sleeps deeply- again (with less wrinkles). 

Has firmly cultivated a marriage code, which bypasses hurt feelings and lends greater understanding with/of  husband (who continually proves to have been a really good choice).

Uses air travel like bus routes to visit the children, in far off lands, because they are in the places that their futures will be claimed. 

Sometimes with Mommy.

Sometimes with Mommy’s Visa.

At tea…

Iced or not. 
No lawyers around.

The Drake
140 East Walton Place
Chicago, Il.

The Entrance to
The Drake
Were they expecting me?

We’ve be expecting you, Cheryl.
Thank you.
My pleasure. I’m sure.

Happy Days.
Hot or Cold.

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