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One of these statements is a lie:  In a little over a week I have: 
1. Been involved in a two car collision
2. Welcomed the birth of a new granddaughter
3. Embarked on a four month life altering health plan
4 Said goodbye to a family matriarch
5. Had a pedicure 
6. Had a hair cut 

If you said #5 you not only are right but you know me very well. I'm not much for taking care of the dragon feet. And now that I'm middle aged - my toenails are doing that toenail thing. You know. They're growing like a middle school boy child and I have to see a vet with hoof trimmers to cut them. The rest of the stuff? All true.
My second and foreseeably final grand baby was born a little over a week ago, and three days later my MIL's elder sister passed.  It will be spring before we can see the new baby bean and since she is the progeny of my elder male spawn - said spawn has to have his phone blown up with requests before he graces us with a pic or video. From what little I've seen and the many third party Facebook oohs and ahs I've heard, she is a doll. (I hope you read this Elder Spawn and I hope you are so wracked with guilt that you send a bazillion pictures and an apology in the form of a dozen fresh frozen breakfast burritos.) As for the death in the family - my mother in law lost her elder sibling to whom she was incredibly close. Margaret didn't know who her children were all the time but would still ask for her sister - almost daily. Marg's sister was 94. She will be missed. 
Because - as you may infer from the list - I need a bunch of stuff going on in my life, I opted to join the Christmas Choir - only 4 Saturdays and one evening practice culminating in a couple of 15 minute stints on risers and Christmas music, they seek a joyful noise, its not the Tabernacle Choir. So on the way home from practice, some biped in a random vehicle tests the laws of nature and attempts to forcibly occupy the same space as our vehicle. Not only was this humanoid unsuccessful - my head seconded the motion and tried to occupy the space held by the seatbelt holder. I didn't see stars but it was more painful than I've ever experienced a rap to my dome to be. Despite the fact that most mornings my mom woke up and chose violence while rearing me - she reserved a back hand for my noggin - never fists. I'm fine. Skulls are hard. 
As for the life altering four month foray whereupon we will veritably gut and remodel a Tam - I'm only seeking drastic help because I've been handed a diagnosis I cannot manage on my own. And honestly, I'm just damn sick and tired of the inexorable increase on the scale. I can't manage falling asleep at my desk, or in the car, or at church.  I'm dragging my fat self through life and now I have a chronic condition. And before you leap for the "eat right, exercise" ring I've spent the past year working with a health coach to that end - and nothing has happened. As much as I tease about stuffing my face with bacon and spending days on end inert whilst binging on 90's sitcoms - the truth is - MY truth is my body is ground zero in a mix of cortisol production and insulin resistance exacerbated by weeks and months and years of births and deaths and change. I cannot stop the stress. So I have to gun for the body. And if Tam isn't significantly different by April - I'm going to take her out behind the garage and shoot her. (Figuratively speaking of course) 
Am I praying? Am I asking God? Yes. Am I also aware that consequences happen? Yes. I'm not angry - but like everything else over the last couple of years - if I think about what I wanted "by now" and what I got. It makes me sad. And if I let the sadness well up, I wallow in it. And I can't do that right now. 
I fight. There fore I am. 
​Peace.