Announcing: Wish-filled Wednesdays

Let me begin this post by saying that I am a believer in the power of prayer. I've seen it. I've done it. I've been the beneficiary of it. That being said...there's something about wishes.

Prayer, for me, carries a feeling of seriousness, both in its intent and outcome. I have prayed for seemingly frivolous things (Please, God, let me not get a speeding ticket from this police officer today), I always quickly add in a "and I'll never ask for anything this stupid again". But I've never, ever, ever qualified a wish. And I've never passed up an opportunity to make a wish. If I see a falling star, I'll make a wish. Birthdays; you better believe it. Judging by the number of "Please do not throw coins into this _________" I'm not the only one who wishes over just about any standing body of water.

I don't make wishes for nothing, either. I believe God is listening, wanting whimsy, joy, and my heart's desires for me and for all of us. I don't know about you, but the more opportunities I have to actively, consciously, and intentionally call for joy to come into my life, the better. There is something to pausing, thinking about what it is you'd really want, saying it out loud, and then sending it out and up. 

So with that being said: I, by the power vested in me by none other than my Creator, proclaim Wish-filled Wednesdays. 

I will be bold, silly, thoughtful, and yes, quite serious about my wish for the week, the day, the year. World Peace? Why not! Jeans that fit? Heck, yeah! 

1. Pause and think about what you want, 
2. Type it out, and 
3. Post it. (Do me a favor and post on my blog as well as FB. I want to see if my Comment Box is working. Thx.)

If you have the ability to help someelse's wish come true, then by all means, grab your best pair of angel wings, strap 'em on and have at it. We're all angels in disguise anyway, but some days we just need a little push off our big, puffy cloud.

My First Wish:

I wish I could make peace with my muffin top

Homage to My Hips

Ok, so I'm having a fat day today. And I know you know what I'm talking about. Some I'm driving home from taking Connor to lacrosse practice, feeling the tops of my jeans cut into my muffin top, when I hear this great poem by Lucille Clifton on the Callie Crossley show on WBUR 89.7 FM. It was so good that when I get home, I bee-line it to my Mac to check out more of her work when I stumbled onto this little jewel:

Homage to My Hips


these hips are big hips.
they need space to
move around in.
they don't fit into little
petty places. these hips
are free hips.
they don't like to be held back.
these hips have never been enslaved,
they go where they want to go
they do what they want to do.
these hips are mighty hips.
these hips are magic hips.
i have known them
to put a spell on a man and
spin him like a top


Amazing, right??!!! Once again, an affirmation from the universe that

1. Poetry does not have to impossible to understand in order to good
2. I'm not the only woman who's spent time thinking about her body

What I love it that this particular woman had a creative outlet to take what is held up as a negative, and make it into something so awesome. Makes me smile inside every time I read it; knowing I've got a little bit of that magic in me. How about you?

Day 40: It is Finished

We've just gotten home from Easter dinner with my parents. It's been our recent tradition to go to the York Harbor Inn and it's fantastic. On the way up, we got off the highway to drive along the coast, where I snapped this photo of this beautiful swan. I have no idea of its gender, but he gave off male energy so I kept referring to it as he and him. I was amazed by his size, elegance, and attitude. He was all sweetness and light while he was being fed, but once his Cheez-itz where all gone, he got pretty aggressive. I can relate to that.

On the way home, I started thinking about this last post in my 40 Day of Writing experiment. Actually, I've been thinking about it for some time now. I have enjoyed this challenge and it brought focus and meaning to Lent, something I have lacked for a number of years. Some days the words came so easily, I could barely keep up at the keyboard. Other days, the images drove the post. I learned a lot, but these are my top three:

• There is value in a participating and committing to a creative discipline. Knowing I had to write everyday made me pay attention to the details in my life in a whole new way.
• If I'm not feeling particularly inspired on a given day, it's okay. Having space to recharge is a good thing.
• Being authentic, even though it feels risky at times,  is always the best bet. It just makes everything less complicated.

Huge, huge, HUGE thanks to all of you who joined me along the way. Your words of encouragement were such a gift to me. I will keep writing (there's no going back now) and I'm thinking of ways to open up the conversation and up the participation factor. After all, why should I be the one having all the fun?!

Day 39: Can You Drink the Cup?

It's been at least 10 years since I've read Henri Nouwen's book, Can You Drink the Cup, but I woke up with it on my mind this morning. The book is based around Matthew 20:20-23:

‘Then the mother of the sons of Zebedee approached him with her sons and did him homage, wishing to ask him for something. He said to her, “What do you wish?” She answered him, “Command that these two sons of mine sit, one at your right and the other at your left, in your kingdom.” Jesus said in reply, “You do not know what you are asking. Can you drink the cup that I am going to drink?” They said to him, “We can.” He replied, “My cup you will indeed drink, but to sit at my right and at my left, (this) is not mine to give but is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father.”

The cup Jesus refers to is the crucifixion that he knows lies ahead. In his book, Nouwen explores the metaphor of the cup using the images of holding, lifting, and drinking to represent the basic principles of spiritual life.

It's April vacation and my son, Connor, was set to go to the movies last night, but his plans fell through at the last minute. When we asked him why he couldn't go with anyone else, his response was: "Everyone else is in the Caribbean." What I heard was: Why do all my friends get to go away and we are stuck here is crappy and cold Massachusetts. Now, part of the reason we are home is because he play Varsity lacrosse and missing an entire week of games and practices would not go over that well with his coach, never mind his teammates. Also, everyone actually isn't in the Caribbean. Case in point...us. And, in reality, Connor never mentioned being stuck in Massachusetts. That's all me.

It used to be easier for me to get sucked down into the comparison vortex, especially when Connor was in elementary school and the Suburban Mommy Gang ruled the mean streets of Wrentham. They ruled with iron fists and razor-sharp tongues with techniques learned in Junior High and perfected through the fires of childbirth and rearing. Ski vacations, weeks on Cape Cod, First Communion luncheons, birthday parties. The territory was steep and loaded with hidden pitfalls.  My family held their own, but the game never ended and finish line, elusive. Eventually, I got tired and dropped out all together. And thankfully, Connor was the kind of kid that made that decision easy.

But every now and again, I get tempted by someone else's cup. Her cup has pretty flowers, or it's bigger. Another is better insulated, or it's made from PBA-free plastic. And what's she got in her cup she's holding so tightly? Do I know her well enough to ask for a sip or even the recipe? How did she get what she's got and how can I get it, too?!!!

When Jesus asked the two sons of Zebedee if they could drink the cup he would have to drink, they said yes without any hesitation. At first glance, I was amazed they could jump in so quickly without asking any clarifying questions. But then again, how many times have I come home to Fred wanting to go out get the latest whatever that so-and-so had without any real information either. I just plain wanted what she had. Jesus does not say yes or no to the men. He says it's not up to him to give, but rather his Father who has lays the path for each of us.

On this Easter Thursday (Maundy Thursday) I can say that I will stick to the cup I've been given. It's always being filled and emptied, lost and found, broken and repaired, and generally enjoyed on a regular basis. And that's kept me pretty busy so far.

Day 38: Training Completed, Intention Set

As of 3:30pm today, I am officially a Domestic Vioience/Sexual Assault Advocate. Now that I have completed training, I can begin volunteering for the agency. What a week it has been. My worldview has changed so significantly, it's hard for me to find the words to adequately express what I am feeling. I can only imagine how I will feel once i begin working with real people. I am so grateful for the women who put on such an incredible course and for the work they do. I am so grateful for each of the women who went through the training with me and for allowing me to be a part of here journey. It is my prayer to be able to serve the agency and its clients to the best of my abilities. It is my intention to remain open to the process and to find the best place(s) for me to serve in order to be a source of hope for those seeking options for.  I feel truly blessed today. I truly do.

Day 37: Still going...

I completed my third day of DV training at New Hope today. The topics are hard, but the level of awareness and empathy I am developing around domestic violence and sexual assault will change me forever. And when I sat down tonight, feeling really tired, I told myself I could let writing go. I don't want my 40 Days of Writing to become achievement orientated and mucked up by striving for perfection, which is how I approach all goals in my life. This approach has served me well, but frankly, I'm tired. So as I snuggle in my bed with my knitting, watching the Bruins, I'm also watching the clock tick down to midnight and I realize that more than I feel the need to write, I want to write. I want to see the cursor blinking at me and what's going to come.

Day 37 and I'm still going at it. Not bad. Not bad at all.


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Day 36: Second Day of New Hope Training

Today's topic for training: child physical and sexual abuse. I had planned on working tonight after class. I'd given my clients a head's up last week that I might need to cancel class because I was unsure of how I would feel at the end of the day. By 2pm, I'd let them know that I would, in fact, need the evening to process the day. And I feel terribly guilty about it. But that's typical of me. I hold myself to this standard that I should be able to go through this training and maintain everything as is. I know I've done the right thing by practicing self-care, but it does not come easily to me, and I know that it's a hard thing for most women to practice.

Here are the words of wisdom that have been ringing in my heart and ears all day:

I am grateful for what I learned in training and for having a safe home to return to at the end of the day.

Day 35: First Day of New Hope Training

Today was the first day of a 4-day training I need to complete in order to become a volunteer for the New Hope, a domestic violence (DV) services agency. We went from 10-4 today and the most intense part of the session was watching a video of a real domestic violence situation. The victim's daughter, concerned that her mother would killed by her stepfather, recorded the incident in case she needed to provide evidence of the abuse. The batterer did, in fact, end of killing her mother and the family allows the video to be used for DV training purposes only. There was no video, just audio. My heart was pounding through the brief (about 15 minute) DVD and I broke out into a sweat. I have always reacted very strongly to DV situations in movies or television shows, so I was panicked that I wasn't going to be able to handle it. The trainers encouraged us to step out of the room if it was too much or it triggered something. I made it through, but it was incredibly difficult. One of the trainers shared this piece of advice with us when dealing with hearing victims' stories. I thought it was really powerful and a good word, not only for volunteering, but during this challenging time of parenting a teenage boy who doesn't want to hear to much from his dull-witted parents these days.

Back for Day 2 in the morning. My worldview has already changed and I'm anxious to learn more.

Day 34: I'm getting a little obsessed

Ok, so I wake up at 1:44am this morning and I'm thinking about my blog. Unable to fall back to sleep, I grab my iPhone off the nightstand and start surfing the web. I'm looking for ways I can execute the ideas I've shooting through my mind about my blog. Waking up in the middle of the night with a burst of creativity is not uncommon, I know. I was doing it under the covers. The screen is pretty bright and I didn't want to wake Fred, so I set myself under the covers. Like when I was in the 5th grade reading Are you there God, it's Me, Margaret, when I was supposed to be asleep. Luckily, I was able to drift back to sleep before Fred woke up. I can only imagine what would have gone through his mind to find me under the sheets with a small flashlight...

Day 33: Nesting, Part II

It was a meandering and yet highly productive Sunday. It started with the usual nonsense: laundry, vacumming, etc, but went up from there. Fred and I headed to the Seed and Feed store on Route 1 in Walpole. I'd been wanting a bird feeder for the tree I see from my kitchen window. First we relocated the squirrel-proof one from the front yard to the back yard, then off for seed. The woman at the store was incredibly helpful (insert Fred groaning here) and set us up with the right seed mix to attract interesting birds as well as a good hanger with a seed block for it. Who knew bird seed was so intense? We got everything all set up and sure enough, the birds came a flocking. Soon I'll be a birding fool.

The birds actually put me in mind of my sixth grade teacher, Mr. Roberts. He was an old-school style teacher. He could have started each school day with that childhood chant:

Concentration has begun
No more laughing
No more fun
If you show your teeth or tongue
Out goes Y-O-U

Mr. Roberts put the tense in Attention. Anyway, it was his tradition to assign The Bird Project every year in the Spring. (The Leaf Project was in the fall.) I don't remember all the details, but I know each of us was responsible for identifying a minimum 40 if not 50 birds. There were rigorous and exact requirements for the project and woe unto you if you weren't able to complete it. That was the year my family went to Disney World for the first time. Disney had a huge bird sanctuary at that time. Jackpot, right? Wrong. I could use the birds I saw there as extra points, but I still was responsible for identifying 40 local birds.  I can still remember some of the birds I learned about because of that project. Every time I see a Red-Wing Blackbird or the Black-capped Chickadee I think of Mr. Roberts. The chickadess were in full force today in my backyard tree and Mr. Roberts was in my thoughts. It's funny the things we remember.

I then headed inside to finish putting together the dresser and nightstand from Ikea. I got it done and although I'd love to say I did it all by myself, I didn't. While Fred took Connor to ref his third lacrosse game of the day (he's been bitten by the money bug), I attacked the nightstand. I was so proud that I had most of it finished by the time he got back. Of course, the fact that I nailed the back panel to the wrong side, which I had put on backwards, was a minor point. He had the good grace (and sense) to make a joke of the whole thing. He loves when I play Lucy to his Ricky. It's a common theme in our marriage. (Note to Self: Write pilot for new Lucy show with Lucy as black woman and Ricky as typical sitcom husband. :D)  Once I got it taken apart, including taking out all 27 of the tiny nails), I got it put it back together the right way in record time. Guest bedroom redo getting closer to finish.

Now to sit, knit, and watch the Sox. Better grab my rally cap...I'm pretty sure I'm going to need it.

Day 32: A Night at Symphony

It's a beautiful Saturday night and I am pleased to announce that: We are out of the house!

The Christian Science Church
(We parked are car in their garage)

We are out of the house and in Boston for a night at the symphony, thank you very much. Fred brought home tickets from work and as fate and luck would have it, they are playing Mozart's Clarinet Concerto. This is one of if not the most important pieces of my clarinet career.

Symphony Hall

Now Fred has brought home some amazing tickets throughout the years. But tickets to a live performance of the Clarinet Concerto??!! I've just got to let my band geek flag fly. Hard.

A girl can dream, right?

Some of my best memories are playing my clarinet. To me, making music is the ultimate conversation. To be able to play your part and be able to listen and allow others to play their part with you, there's just nothing like it. I could go on and on about it, but they've just put up the sign telling the audience to turn off all electronic devices, and my worst nightmare is to be the a-hole who forgets. More to come later, but signing off for tonight.


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Location:Symphony Rd,Boston,United States

Day 31: Marriage as Jousting Match

Some days it seems a cruel trick of nature to be put into a relationship with another being who seems completely unable to understand the basic fundamentals of what it is to be you. I don't want to get into a men don't understand women rant (although God knows I could) and I'm sure my husband thinks he's hitched his wagon to an alien on some days as well. That being said, it does seem that many times, when I'm trying to have a conversation with my husband, I might as well break into Swahili and he can continue to listen with his head shoved right up his ass as usual. (Did I say that out loud?) I love my husband. I truly do. But Good golly, Miss Molly! Trying to get my point across to him is like a jousting match with all 25 Knight of the Round Table. Some days, I've got the strength for the battle. Tonight, not so much.

This round goes to you, good sir . Until we meet again. 

Day 30: Nesting, Part I

It started with a desk. I got tired of working at the kitchen table; setting up and putting away, then setting up and putting everything away again. So last week, I went off in search of a writing desk. And I found one, but it was white and didn't go with the room. Hi, ho, hi ho, it's off to Lowe's I go for a can of red paint and other miscellaneous necessities. (Did I mention how much I LOVE the hardware store?) Two days and two coats of paint later, voila. But now, I need a new lamp. Hi, Ho, Hi, Ho, it's off to Ikea I go this morning. Found the lamp...a new dresser and nightstand for the guest bedroom. Can you see where this is headed? Unpacked the dresser, sorted out the nails, screws, etc. Stay tuned...

PS: Had a lacrosse game this afternoon and there was this big, blue thing hovering over the field the entire game. Wait a minute, that's the sky!

Day 29: Business Hoes and CEOs

Everybody in Wrentham is talking about the Business Hoes and CEOs party bust in Plainville this weekend. One the first things I get asked is: Was Connor there? followed by Why not? My answer to both: No, by the grace of God.  We talk about drugs and alcohol a lot. Usually, I try to maintain a neutral expression my face, but inside, I'm freaking out. But I know if I flinch, he'll clam up and never tell me anything again, so he talks and I stare ahead into space.

But this recent party has us all talking. And if I got that proverbial 3am phone call to come pick up my kid and the Wrentham police station, I'm not sure what would distress me more: the fact that she got arrested or that she was dressed like a ho.

That's what I've been wondering about. Of the kids arrested, were all the boys dressed as CEOs and all the girls dressed like a hoes. Or did just one girl show up to the party in a suit. In 2011, with Title IX and girl power galore, why are young women relegated to a business ho. If a boy went ho, what did that look like? And what does it say about the unspoken ideas of power and influence in the workplace or at home? Part of me understands it's just playacting. I'm not trying to make more out of it than it is. But I am concerned about the mixed signals of that particular "dress up" game being sorted out through the fog of drugs and alcohol. No one comes out looking good.

My son is a good kid. He's already demonstrated to me and his dad that he will make the difficult decision to walk away when situations turn dicey. I've been lucky in this regard. But I also know that he is at that tender age that he truly believes he knows more than I do. Foolish boy. So far, he hasn't had to learn too much the hard way, but he's pushing his luck. The problem is, I'm the only who knows that. So it's up to me to stand in the gap on his behalf and try to save him from himself. Sometimes I can pull it off and he doesn't even know it. Sometimes it's a knock down drag out. And sometimes, we both get lucky and he decides for himself to stay in, watch the Bruins, and play XBOX live. And that's truly a good night.

Day 28: If it's raining, it must be a Game Day

Well, it's lacrosse day, so that means one thing: rain. I'm hoping this isn't going to be a trend. At least I gave myself enough to snag a mocha latte and still snag the prime parking spot. I can see the whole field from inside my warm and dry car. I love the boy, but it's a long season

I don't usually work on Tuesdays, but this morning I taught a mat class as part of New Hope staff self-care day. New Hope is a domestic violence service provider. They run two shelters as well as providing a myriad of services. Next week, I am going to the four-day intensive training program for new staff and volunteers. I am going to volunteer.

There are lots of volunteer options from hotline and shelter, to court advocacy or envelope stuffing. I can get as involved as I want. I haven't quite decided what I want to do, but I am pretty sure I want to teach a few Pilates classes at the shelters. One the women in class today said she really appreciated the imagery I used to describe locating and strengthening the spine. She thought that language would go a long way with the women at the shelter.

I'm nervous about next week. I know I will hear and see things that I know subconsciously. But acknowledging it will be a whole other thing. My friend Julie, who works with an agency serving at-risk families, gave me some good advice. She told me to try hard to feel like I didn't have what it takes to serve. I have gifts already and the key is to be patient enough to find the right place to use them. I got confirmation this morning that what I do made a difference for the staff. I hope it can for the people they serve, too.

Gotta run, it's time for the game to start.

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Location:Wentworth St,,United States

Day 27: What's with all the pictures?

Happy! Happy! Joy! Joy!

This Sunday, Connor started his first official job. He's a lacrosse referee for the local town lacrosse leagues. Naturally, I had to take a picture and as you can see by his face, he was thrilled. He couldn't help but notice and remark on my constant need to take my camera with me and then to actually use it. I've explained that I'm taking a photography course and I'm blogging for lent which he seemed to understand. What he couldn't figure out was: What does all that have to do with him? His smiling teenage face made me a little nostalgic for the earlier days, when he loved to get his picture snapped and we were pals.  Who am I kidding? He was always a child with opinions. Even as a baby, when people would peer into the carrier to coo at him, he'd close his eyes until they'd gotten out of his face. But I'm still a proud mama and can't wait to take him to open up his first checking account this Friday. Say Cheese!

Day 26: She seemed like such a quiet person or What's for Dinner?

That's how all the news reports start. She seemed like such a quiet person. Right up until she shaved her entire family's heads and burned the house down. I imagine that's what my neighbors might say about me today, because I am ready to burn this mo' fo' down to the ever-lovin' ground. And it all would be sparked by the simple question: What's for dinner?


Dunh, Dunh  (That's the Law and Order sound)

Scene I:

Wrentham Police Station
Interrogation Room A
Sunday, April 1, 2011


Officer Jack O'Hurley: What was your wife's behavior like today?

My Husband: She didn't make coffee before she's started in. First it was the laundry and then she said something about cleaning out closets, but I'd already rolled back over to catch a few more zzz's.

Officer: Mmm. Hmm. Did she seem agitated?

Husband: Nothing out of the ordinary. The ususal: I'm not a maid. I didn't go to college so I could pick up your boxers for the rest of my life.

Officer: In other words: Yada, yada, yada.

Both chuckle.

Officer: Was she home all day or did she go out? Lunch with friends? Nail appointments? Massage?

Husband: She did leave the house around 11:30 and was gone for about two hours.

Officer: Did you notice anything unusual when she came back?

Husband: Well, she did come back with bags of groceries?

Officer: Just groceries?

Husband: There was fruit and vegetables, too.

Officer: Enough just for her?

Husband: There appeared to be enough for everyone. I watched while she put them away. I offered to help, but she said she'd get it done faster with me out of the way.

Officer: Your wife sounds like a bit of a control freak.

Husband: You think?

Officer: And do you know where your wife was during that two hours?

Husband: I have no idea.

Knowing glance exchanged between both.


Husband: You mentioned a massage earlier?

Officer: Yes? Did your wife have a massage today?

Sips coffee.

Husband: Actually, no. She took our son for an hour long session. He stated lacrosse this week and he has always had lower back pain, so my wife thought it was important for him to get it worked on throughout the season. Today was his first appointment.

Officer: Interesting. And where was your wife while your son got a massage?

Husband: She said she was going to run more errands on that end of town.

Officer: And where were you during this time?

Husband: Home relaxing. I work during the week.

Officer: I understand. Anything else about your wife you can tell us?

Husband: After she got back from the massage appointment. she brought in a desk she bought from the second hand shop. She went to Lowes to get supplies to repaint it. I took our son to ref a lacrosse game, and by the time got back, she'd stripped the piece and was getting ready to prime it.

Officer: What about finishing the laundry?

Husband: That was also done.

Officer: And put away?

Husband: Yes.

Officer: After she primed the desk, then what?

Husband: Well, it was getting late. You know, like 5:30 she was still out there painting,

Officer: And that's when you asked her?

Husband: Yes. I asked her what was for dinner?

Officer: I think I can piece together what happened. With the paint and mineral spirits out, all highly flammable, your wife went mental and set the house on fire.

Husband: It started on the deck, because she was working outside, but it didn't take long for it to spread. Especially with her running around with the mineral spirits and all.

Officer: Mr. Kirsch. You've been extremely helpful. I'm sorry you've had to go through such an ordeal.

Husband: What's going to happen to my wife?

Dunh, Dunh

Scene II:

Wrentham Police Station
Interrogation Room B
Sunday, April 3, 2011



Officer Susan Craig: What happened today, Mrs. Kirsch?

Me: It was 5:36pm on Sunday evening and my husband asked me what was for dinner.

Officer: You are free to go.

Day 25: Brava and then, bed

It's Saturday night and I'm in bed. And I don't mean lying in top. I am IN the bed. Finals for the New England Patriots Cheerleaders were held today. We arrived for 9am and had selected the two week boot camp participants by 6:30pm or so. If I'm exhausted as a judge, I can imagine how the participants feel. But they are young, and I am, well...not as young. Hats off to them all. I said it before and I'll say it again: that takes guts. Brava!

Day 24: What Brown Does for Me

Every other Friday, I go to my hair salon, Olives, in Brighton Center. It is a feast for my eyes, ears, and soul. In "The Community", hair plays a major role and it has been a large part in life since I can remember. My first trip to the salon was at age six. I remember sitting on a huge pillow on a high pump-chair. (It fit in very well with my idea of self as princess.)  The women in the salon came in all shapes, sizes, and colors. It was in the salon that I received some of my most important lessons on becoming a beautiful, black woman.

In the world outside the salon, girls like me were not the dominant force. Barbie was blonde, who a black version of her. Tootie was on The Facts of Life, but let's be honest, it was Blair and Jo's show. And of course, there was Marcia, Marcia, Marcia. In the salon, brown was everywhere and black was beautiful. If my hair was braided, the only reason people wanted to touch it was to style it. The texture of my hair was not the exception, it ruled.

In my hair salon, I can recharge. It is not easy being a black woman in this world. Sometimes, I need a place to be reminded of where I've come from. It means a lot to have a place where I can see myself reflected back not as other. These women remind me that brown is beautiful and the time I spend there is as good for my heart as it is for my hair.

My cousin Taunya has a gift for doing hair. When we were kids, every family get together ended with me sitting between her legs and her hair in my hands. Actually, i didn't exactly sit between her legs, she held me there in a vice grip hold that would have made a python cry uncle. She said I was tender headed. This mean I couldn't get my hair combed without crying. What it didn't mean was that the person combing hair should take it easy. When my cousin was done doing my hair, I always looked at 5 years younger because the skin on my face was pulled tighter than Spanx on Oprah. It would be at least 45 minutes before I could see again. My eyes needed the time to return to their natural shape. But it was worth it. Her styles were beautiful and like nothing seen with much frequency back home in New Hampshire. That time we spent together bonded us and our some of our best memories, tears and all.

Five more minutes under the hair dryer, soaking in Sister Sun, in this golden oasis of beauty.