Evie, I'll talk about the panic of doing workshops and teaching kids to drive in a few minutes--after I get some lunch--but first I want to respond to Smile.

Smile, I love your input. By the way, I checked out your website, and it looks like you’re still in full bloom. Anyway, there’s a fine line between reasons and excuses. It’s a reason if you feel good about it, an excuse if you don’t. At least that’s what I think. Sounds like you’re content. Life isn’t all about doing. Sometimes one needs to sit back and enjoy the fruits of one’s efforts and/or take time to fertilize new ideas, new dreams.

But here’s the thing about blooming—and the problem with the metaphor. Unlike the flowers in a real-life garden, we can bloom again and again and again. There’s no end to blooming. No age limit. It’s dicey for me to give advice because it’s such a personal process. Every woman has her own unique circumstances, her own unique “baggage” to take—or discard—as she makes her way in life. That’s why I wrote a book of stories rather than a self-help book. I believe in the power of stories. I believe in the power of role models. I think what we often need is not advice, but inspiration to light a fire in our hearts and examples to lead the way.

Here’s a powerful question: “Am I doing what I want, right here, right now?” In other words, what--if anything--are you doing that you want to stop? What--if anything--are you not doing that you want to begin? If we're honest with ourselves, we might find that we love being the mom of an 8-year old—or the mom of a 28 year old, as I am—and want nothing more at the moment. Or, we might decide that we want to shake things up a bit. There’s no right or wrong here.

Here’s something I wrote in my journal a while back that I came across again recently. It expands on this idea of blooming:

“It seems to me that as we spiritually evolve, we become more and more ourselves. More vibrant, more elastic, more feet-on-the-ground, more head-in-the clouds. Like a snake, we shed our old, dry, tight-feeling skins and allow fresher, more colorful selves to emerge. In line with this, the late-blooming women whose stories I've been attracted to aren't those who merely switched careers midlife. To use another metaphor, the women in my book haven't simply tried on a new set of clothes. They've stripped their old garments of fear, self-doubt and self-consciousness and allowed their true beings to be exposed to the light.”

I guess you could say I’m on my third blooming, but I really feel like I’m just more myself than I’ve ever been. I recently interviewed a man in San Francisco who became a painter in his seventies. ( web page ). I guess you could say he’s on his third blooming, too. In his most recent show, he sold 30 paintings! He told me that when he walked in the door of his first art class at San Jose State at age 76, he felt like he’d finally come home. It’s not that he wasn’t previously himself and wasn’t using his talents when he was a real estate developer (career #2); it’s just that each transformation he’s made has brought him closer and closer to the heart of himself. Now he’s just pure Art! (That’s a pun.)

So...gotta go get something to eat. As I said above, I'll add my two cents to the kids & driving issue in a little while. The bottom line: Teaching my older son Gabe to drive was wonderful--a chance to bond one-on-one with no distractions. Teaching Ev to drive, on the other hand, was the most terrifying experience of my life, not to mention the fact that he ended up concluding that I was a neurotic nutcase.