As I type this I am being buffeted and body slammed by my beasts. Wrestling is pretty much 85% of their non-napping time. The other 15% is eating or begging for treats. Wait. That's not fair. Out of the 85% comes "Squirrel Time" "Squirrel Time" is a flirt stick. The girls LOVE the squirrel on a stick. It helps that it has two squeakers. When they get a hold of it they go to town. Squirrel Time is a daily or twice daily event. They run to the refrigerator and look up and sit patiently waiting for me to take down the world's best toy. In case I'm not paying attention Gertrude will let out an occasional bark to let me know that it is most definitely time to play.
Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.