Gray wool

Who was it who wrote once of living days of gray wool? You know, those days that are so full of the business of living without any of the joy of life, the ordinary days that a week later you don't remember anything about. I'm trying to eliminate the majority of gray wool in my days. 

The days are still far too full of everyday "must do's" but even if it's only a 10-second realization of roadside beauty when driving to, between or from jobs, I am trying to find something memorable in each day. It's fairly easy in the mornings. In my job at Habitat for Humanity I talk to such a wide variety of people who sincerely want to help others. I see our homeowners when they come into the office for something and, while they also are having lots of gray wool time (who doesn't when you work and have a home to care for), many of them are still imbued with that sense of a dream realized when they come to see us. It's easy to find the scarlet taffeta at Habitat. 

I discover new moments of brightness every night at rehearsals. I am working with such a wonderful group of women in "Steel Magnolias" and every night we find something new to laugh about and learn new things about one another. And there is always the abiding truth of that script when you get past the big hair and bad southern accents to remind you of the importance of living past the gray wool.

Last week I began the last year of the first half century of my life. I find I'm not dreading moving into the second half century as I thought I would. I'm hoping that I am growing out of the gray wool stage. I'm hoping that with each year I will discover more scarlet taffeta, or chartreuse silk, or that intense sky-blue linen. Or even a cool, soothing stone-washed denim. I could use a cool denim day about now, I think.