I have this tacky camping chair that I like to sit in on my driveway to think and watch the world float by. I can face the mountains and watch the sunset reflect off them, turning them various shades of pink and purple. I understand that phrase "Purple Mountains Majesty." It is a beautiful site.

The clouds started turning and moving-- doing an exotic dance that was entrancing and seemed to be only for me. I could hear them moaning and churning as they danced and if I listened carefully I could hear the low rumble of thunder trying to break free.

Slowly the wind met with the leaves in the trees and they started their familiar dance, singing a beautiful song. The sounds and sites were hypnotic as I sat in my chair listening to the world around me.

I listened to the distant crackle, pop and boom of fireworks while the wind and trees continued their dance. It would crescendo and decrescendo in such a mesmerizing way. I couldn't tear my eyes from the giant trees across the street. They swayed perfectly to the unheard song of their dance. It was if they were marrying themselves to each other over and over again and at the exact perfect moment, the sky exploded in a sea of color-- blues, greens, reds and yellows-- the perfect culmination of this forbidden dance of the wind and trees.

Then the rain slowly descended. It was refreshing, that smell from the rain, and it felt clean. I sat there and let the rain pour down on me as I continued to listen and watch the forbidden dance of the trees and watch the firework display in front of me. It was a perfect moment.

It was calming watching the world-- changing, growing, moving-- being cleansed and given a chance to start fresh. I love watching storms come creeping over my little piece of the world. It reminds me that I always have a new day and a fresh start.

Just like that, I can let go of my past, forgive myself and move forward. There is always a new beginning just around the corner.

*pulled from the archives. Originally published on July 25, 2011

When this song comes on, I just can't help myself. I have to dance. And, not dancing? Well, that just makes the need to dance worse. There's something about that opening that just makes me start bopping my head to the side and once those trumpets start? I'm a goner. I'm swinging my booty and rocking to the beat. It doesn't matter where I am, when I hear that familiar refrain? It's all down hill from there people. 

eekk. i look like i'm on crack

At the beginning of every summer I feel mounds of trepidation. I get used to the schedule and consistency that the school year brings -- Up and going every day by a certain time. Dishes and dinner done every morning with the house all shiny and clean. Routine is my comfortable old worn coat and it makes me feel safe and secure.

Summer means the end of that blessed schedule and we all turn into free stylin' gypsies.

We have migrated into our gypsy lifestyle rather seamlessly this year. We've stayed up late and slept in. We've had cheesecake for breakfast and omelets for dinner. We've spent our days next to the pool and our nights riding the Merry-Go-Round.  We've caught ourselves up on our favorite TV shows, watched the latest blockbuster movies and read a library full of books. We've taken nightly walks around the neighborhood and have a worn path that is a friendly reminder of where we've been and how far we've come.

It's simply perfect. 

I forget every year that when it's all said and done and the transformation is complete this Gypsy lifestyle fits me rather nicely. Taking that first drink of Koolaid is scary but once I do I remember how much I love it and how liberating this lifestyle really is.

With the metamorphosis complete, I find myself taking a deep breath and saying "This. THIS right here is the life" and that familiar feeling of peace slides over me and I recognize it. My old worn coat has returned.

Life is good. Summer is good. We're good.