Shazam, Kerplow

       When I was young, I used to dream about the freedoms adulthood would certainly bring. The nice house in an upstanding neighborhood. The strong and supportive husband, mowing perfect lines in the lush green grass. The sweet 2 kids playing on the swing set in the backyard. One Lassie type dog bouncing through the backyard chasing the ball thrown by the .2 child and one fat cat lounging on the comfy couch swatting at one singular fly that found it's way through the bug defenses. And me, the smiling woman, wife, mother, would be swinging in a hammock looking up frequently from a fantastic book, to absorbs the sights of my happy family.


       Well, it was a nice thought anyway. I think I'm a warped version of June Cleaver. All pretty to look, a commercial for 'can do it all woman' in pearls and heals. Except old smiling June had Ward to bring home the bacon and the kids walked to school and sporting events. Ughhh, I'm one of those Super WonderWoman types. Thats just swell, really really swell. Ward, where the hell are you? Oh, ok dear, I understand, the couch still needs company, swell, thats just swell dear, pop another pill for thy delicate condition.

       I'm tired this week. So how does one call in for backup? This Superwoman is behind on just about any and everything required of a SuperWoman. Being a Superwoman has it's downsides, it really does. It isn't all about pretty lassos and magical accessories. I look through my Palm Pilot and see it's massive time dictation and groan from the weight of it all.

       Like a fine super steak, I attempt to trim the fat off the Superwoman duties, yet, I find I'm basically cooking lean. Not much to toss in the disposal, at all. Working this hard for survival is getting old. I look at myself now, and I look to the future and wonder if I'll really be able to maintain this current rate for the next 10 years.

       I've been cultivating a dream for a while now. As soon as the youngest is scooted out the door, I'm selling the house, and gleefully flipping off my yard, selling all personal possession of any size, and moving into a modest Townhouse on the river, where yard boys are hired to maintain the outside. With this monster downgrade, bills will be held to a minimum and I will walk away from my business, without a second look back, ok probably flipping it off too. I will live as simple and unencumbered as humanly possible.

       I had the childhood dream of what I believed would bring freedoms. Now I have my mid adulthood dreams of what freedom will look like, I'm going to marinate in that one for a while.

# Footnote #
I have 391 emails. That is what I consider an impossible amount of alerts to catch up with. This Superwoman WILL catch up with everyone's journal, and hopefully it's before the time I'm 43 years old and living in my new Townhouse.

I hope everyone is happy, safe, loved, and swimming in the beautiful well of everlasting time.