A couple of weeks ago I found myself sitting on a barstool with a friend. We had just come from the opening of an interesting photography exhibit. I was all jazzed up over the images we'd seen and soon our conversation turned to me lamenting over all the things I want to do with my life. This is nothing new. I have ideas. I have regrets. There are many, many things out there that I find passionately interesting but seldom take the first steps to act on them. Somehow laundry, driving my daughter to and from school, food preparation, dishes, etc. always takes precedence.
Finally she stopped me and asked, "What the hell are you waiting for? Why don't you just sign up for a class?" Any other day, that kind of abrupt force would bring me to sniveling excuses. But then I felt bold (may have been the wine) and said, "Yeah, okay, I will." And I did. In fact, I extended my daughter's school day by an hour and I'm taking classes every day.
This is my first week. My housekeeper just quit for a better job. My toilets have orange rings forming in them. The dishes are piling up. I'm wearing something that I would only wear when ALL of my clothes are dirty. And in a few hours, I will find myself enclosed in a dark and dreary cinderblock classroom with kids half my age and an instructor twice my age. I love it.