Five AM Musings

I suppose that like anyone I wrestle with questions about what I have and have not accomplished.  Throughout my life I have had visions of grandeur about how I would change the world, be a famous expeditioner, fight poverty, fix the ails of the world, you know small stuff.  These days those visions of grandeur are primarily reserved for lively discussions among my closest friends in my own kitchen over glasses of wine and Trader Joe's cheese.

It is sometimes an odd thing to navigate ones own expectations of life with ones own realities.  And it seems as humans we are adept at creating our own exaggerated dramas.  I've never had a penchant for extreme drama and tend to prefer keeping some of my most extreme wonderings to myself.  Yet at times I really do wish I were much more astounding than is, perhaps, realistic. When I've had too much time inside my own head I wonder if I should be working harder, earning more money, speaking at more events, leading more trips, yada yada yada.

I woke up at five this morning and although I was initially quite perturbed I finally resigned myself to wakefulness and crawled out of bed. I brewed a pot of Kona coffee, straight from Hawaii (no I haven't been there recently but conveniently had a very generous guest).  I then wandered into my disheveled living room where the floor is strewn with picture albums, Aasta's toys, some unidentifiable crumbs, a discarded water bottle, an emptied wipe box and a vast expanse of dried up baby wipes, an empty cereal box (ah the crumb source), and other randoms.  And instead of picking things up I opened my windows and cuddled into my favorite chair with a good book.

A couple of hours have since passed.  I've had at least three cups of amazing coffee while lost in a story of a Korean immigrant's life in Hawaii.  (The relation between morning java and said novel not entirely lost on me.)  I just went in to peek on Mike and Aasta who are both still sound asleep, tripped on a toy farm set, and was reminded of how spectacular my life is.

My house is a disaster.  I'm making far less money than I had anticipated making by my mid thirties.  I'm definitely not as famous as the 18 year-old version of me expected.  I'm not as in shape as I planned.  I'm still going grey, though until I wash my hair again I can blame at least some of it on the white primer from my  most recent painting project.  I drive a station wagon, aka grocery getter,  which I have recently decided to name "Hogwarts" because I can to fit the most absurd things in this car.  And I haven't solved the whole issue of poverty.

However, I have a healthy and beautiful family.  I have a husband who is hot, patient, gentle, kind, and rife with integrity (my current favorite virtue).  I get to see my brother, sister-in-law and three beautiful nieces at least once a week which has catapulted my bliss levels off the charts.  I pick a bushel of cucumbers every four days out of my overflowing garden.  My backyard is often filled with neighbor kids playing on our hammock and swing.  And I live on a street packed full of people I get to call friends.

So even though I'm sure I'll complain again about how much I'm not doing and what my life doesn't look like, at the end of the day, I'm really quite happy with how things have turned out.


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