I like this idea. I’m always look for clever, thoughtful gift ideas.  Anything that can help us focus on the positive things in our lives is a good thing.  And that sharing with others is never a bad idea.

You could decorate the jar to suit the recipient, come up with a clever little name for it.  I would appreciate the sentiment behind a gift like this much more than an after-thought trinket from the local mall.

Job hunting over 40.  It’s not for the faint of heart.   Job hunting after being (for all practical purposes) off the market, home raising children for 15 years.  Down-right harrowing. It’s a different world. And I’m a grown-up now.  It’s time to re-enter the grown up world.  Mixed emotions.

I still think of myself as young, you know.  And relevant & cool.  Although I’ve never sent a resume via the internet.  I’ve never applied for a position via a website linked to a website connected to a website.  I’ve never done a cover letter that looks like a standard email. My resume is on PDF.   It took me 4 hours to apply for two jobs. 

I need business cards and a head shot.

Say I do get an interview.  What the heck do I wear?  Black pencil skirt and conservative blouse?  Is that still the standard?  Or is there some tech-age outfit I’m not aware of?  And interviews – they still do those, don’t they?  Is there a new secret handshake or code words I need to know?  Youngsters, your help would be appreciated.

The search continues.  I will let you know if anything interesting comes up.

For most of my life, I labored under the delusion that I had no sisters because I was the only girl in my family.  I have brothers, whom I love dearly. But I always felt like I was missing out on something.

As I have matured, I have come to realized that all that time I had been living a lie.

I have four sisters.  Four women who are absolutely my family.  I couldn’t love them more if we shared the same genetic material.  We grew up together. We have shared our lives since before we started school.  Boy, do we ever have history.  We have laughed, cried, grieved, and celebrated together.  We have shared and kept each others’ secrets.  We laugh at each other and with each other.  We commiserate, instigate, and contemplate. We may not see one another every day like we used to, and we may be physically miles apart, but we all know that we can pick up right where we left off at any place, anytime.  These women are my touchstones and my guiding lights. My rocks. They keep me grounded in this crazy world. They remind me of where I came from and who I really am at my very core.  I am my true self with my sisters.

We know that if any one of us needs anything – encouragement, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, a swift kick in the ass,  a “snap out of it” smack, some levity added to a serious situation – we will defy the laws of physics and be there for each other at a moment’s notice, like the superheroes we are.  Day to day, we wear the brilliant disguises of mature, responsible, successful women – wives, daughters, mothers, professionals.  But when we are together, time holds no constraints on us.  We are 15 again. And 7 and 35 and 70.  And we will always be. We are ageless.  We are fortunate and we know it.  We are a tightly woven fabric.  We are strong.  We are sisters.

Have you had this experience?  You wake up one morning thinking  “How did I get here?  Who is this person?  Whose body is this?  This is not the life my 25 year old self thought I’d be living”.

Maybe you never have.  Lucky you.

Don’t get me wrong – I love my life – my family, my friends, the security and comfort.  But truth be told, it’s not what I had in mind for myself when I was half this age.  And if you’re honest, you just may be in the same boat.  And that’s perfectly fine.  In fact, it’s more than fine.  It’s great.

When I was younger,  I had a vision for myself.  I always thought I would do something fabulous when I grew up.  I told my high school guidance counselor I wanted to move to New York and be a writer of soap operas.  Imagine how well that went over – small town South, early 1980. Needless to say, unfortunately, that was a path I did not follow.

I’ve also had aspirations of becoming an actor, a filmmaker, a critic, an artist, an activist.  Anything cool and creative. Something that could change people.  While I’ve done some interesting things with my life,  nothing has truly quieted that nagging little voice that keeps on whispering  “if only…”.

Now I find myself  a woman “of a certain age” and still floundering, sort of – wondering what I want to be when I grow up.  I know I’m too old to be the wunderkind – the ingenue. Those days are long gone. But you know what?  Who cares?

I can be creative and find fulfillment in my suburban day-to-day.  I may not have accepted my Best Original Screenplay Oscar at age 25, or won the Pulitzer at 30, but the way I look at it, there’s still time.  I’m not dead yet.  We as humans are meant to be dynamic.  To constantly evolve.  As they say “Change is inevitable”.  Force it.  Embrace it.  Become it.

After some soul-searching and much middle-aged angst, at the tender age of 50, I decided my only option (and hope for sanity) was reinvention.  I’m writing,  I’m creating art.  I cooking, I’m decorating. I’m taking acting classes.  I’m intentionally making myself uncomfortable. Speaking my mind.  Stirring the pot. Putting myself out there.  Stretching.  Growing. Striving.

It ain’t always pretty.

Because with growth comes pain.  And sometimes reward.  In this space you will find various expressions of those adventures. I ‘m a dyed-in-the-wool film and television geek, a voracious reader, creative cook, mom, wife, daughter, a fledgling actor, a dabbling writer (social commentary, poetry, essays – whatever).  One day you may see a recipe in this space, the next day a photo of some bizarre found-object piece I’ve created, or a review of some obscure film I’ve seen. And hopefully some joy and a few success stories for good measure.  I hope you will find a little common ground here with me.  Share with me your goals, your accomplishments, you struggles, your screw-ups and your successes.

To quote the great George Eliot “It’s never too late to be what you might have been”.