Sometimes I feel like a bucket that’s sprung a hole at its seam.

On the outside all looks well, but I feel empty on the inside. The things that should normally fill me up are washing out as quickly as they’re poured in–so much so sometimes that there is barely any residue left by their presence.

I don’t know if it’s exhaustion or frustration or restlessness, but I need to feel full before I begin to collapse in on myself.

Tomorrow I may feel completely different.

I hope I do.

Because today, I worried to myself that I was becoming a black hole, and a black hole by its infinite nature is impossible to fill.

But then again, I tend to be a worrier.

Let’s chalk this all up to hormone fluctuations and an impending birthday. I used to love them, but now I’m looking at the number and wondering what it is I’ve accomplished and what it is I have ahead of me.

I desire change.

I know I’m the only one who can make it.

It wasn’t really out of the ordinary, but it was just good.

I was able to follow Emily’s incredible opportunity with the Clinton Global Initiave. Read back a few posts as she live-blogged her day.

I was greeted by this email from my dad.

Yeah, there was work to do–too much in fact–but I was able to have one-on-one time with my eldest tonight as we shopped for clothes.

The moon is full.

And, it’s probably the last warm night of the year.

I should be in bed, but I had to enjoy some time this evening outside.

Some days it’s just the little things.

Driving in the car–alone–with the windows down and the radio turned up, it’s easy to pretend that you have no responsibilities, no one to answer to, no one counting on you to protect them and nourish them. For a moment, I am a single woman and I have my whole life ahead of me but with the knowledge I’ve gained over the last decade or so.

And I’m free.

I can feel passion. I can be gorgeous. I can travel the world. I might still be a doctor, or a photographer or a dolphin trainer. I’ll dance under the stars. My clothes will be stylish. There will be fabulous dinner parties and views of the ocean. The births will be natural and the babies will sleep through the night.

I look forward to the life ahead of me.

Then my phone buzzes. A client needs something. Will I pick up milk while I’m out? Back to School night starts in twenty minutes. At that point it’s as if my body stopped short but my heart kept moving forward. It’s pressed up against my ribs aching to keep going. I give it a pat and soothe its racing beat.

Choices have been made.

But what do I tell it, my heart? Why does it yearn to start over again and do it “right” this time? What would it change? What would it be willing to give up? Nothing. Then why does it press its face against the window and dream?

No time to post. On page 525 of the final Harry Potter. Should be able to go to sleep before dawn. Thanks all for not revealing any of the secrets.

Oh, and about yesterday? I was the one on the right. Though lord knows I wish I could have claimed the boobs on the left. Must remember to ask for the name of the doctor next Bingo night.

I just told Kelly that I think I lost my sense of humor in traffic a few weeks ago. I seriously don’t have much to blog about, but I hate going silent for days.

The little photo you see of me when I comment on your blog–or in my profile…well my hair is much longer now. As I mentioned a while back, my hairdresser had the nerve to move out of the area (without asking my permission) and as a result I haven’t had a hair cut since September.

Luckily, I can tell my hair is growing by the ever increasing skunk stripe running down my part.

And while I’m on hair…why is it that all the hair on my head is going grey, but my leg hair remains dark, dark, dark?!

If I’m going to:

a.) spend a fortune pretending I’m still a brunette
b.) stain my bathroom from floor to ceiling trying to save money on salon costs or
c.) look like an old hag

Why can’t I at least have the benefit of lighter leg hair?

Does all your pubic hair eventually go grey, will it fall out/stop growing first or will I need to spend my nest egg pruning the bush (es)?

Do the stop signs in parking garages hold legal weight? Can I get a ticket for blowing off a stop sign in a parking garage? I tend to view them as suggestions. But really, can police officers just skulk around a garage hanging out behind the next turn when they need to fill their ticket quota? I would.

I love growing things.

I’ve been seing all these photos of new infants lately and every time I look at one I feel like I’m going to start lactating. I really think I’d love to have another (that would be number four for those keeping score at home), but the very thought sends Shakey into a catatonic state (once he finishes hyperventilating).

So I garden instead.

I was going to put the cutest bumper around my vegetable garden but it made it too hard to weed.

Okay listen. I can’t hang around here all day chatting. I’m supposed to be earning a paycheck. You’re such a bad influence.

Any good blog topics for me?

I have an idea. Let’s do a reverse Linda “Duran Duran is neither a Duran nor a Duran. Discuss.” Richman.

You give me a topic “The Thigh Master is neither a thigh nor a master. Discuss.” and I’ll discuss (and MammaLee I haven’t forgotten about the meme).