I got back in yesterday.

This trip was harder. Remember how I reserved the right to lose my shit? I used up a bit of that leeway a little bit this time.

I blame Robert Mondavi, may he rest in peace in the Great Vineyard in the sky.

Or? I blame the fact that, right now, being me isn’t as easy as it sometimes can be. Because, let’s be frank, parts of my life currently indicate that I was born under a lucky star, indeed. I am living proof that sometimes you can totally blow it and still, somehow, come out okay in the end. Even ridiculously happy.

God is great, if you will…or merciful…or persistent. I once met someone who said revelation was like Jesus flinging a sandal at the back of your head. If she’s right, I’m getting quite a collection of lumps back there.

I’m not quite ready to talk about Mom being down 40 pounds and shorn of even the mere inches of hair she had when I last saw her. But I spent the evening with some very excellent friends, which may be the best and healthiest of my coping mechanisms. So, more shortly about my mom, who is doing well but doesn’t always look it.

In the meantime, check out one of my other birthday gifts: