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Dancing at the bus stop

I woke up in pain this morning. That's pretty typical, but this morning, it seemed a heavier burden. "Why? Oh, God, why?" is not how I like to start my day.

I'm struggling with one of my kids right now; we just seem to be totally unable to communicate. It's like one is speaking English and the other Klingon, and the sub-titles are not working.

Dear Husband is going to be gone for three days, to visit a godson for his First Communion. I'm glad he is taking the opportunity to go, but having him gone is always hard. Plus, we are in the midst of soccer season, and we are not seeing a whole lot of each other anyway.

Dark-Haired Daughter has her prom this weekend, and that means a lot of prep. If you've ever gotten a teenager ready for prom, then you know it's at least a day-long affair.

This all adds up to one long weekend, which really won't be a weekend.

On my way to work this morning, a lady in a minivan cut me off, and then flipped me the bird for taking up part of "her" lane. Okay, whatever. I flashed her a big smile and the peace sign, and prayed for her through gritted teeth.

As I was getting close to work, I saw a teenage boy and girl, clearly in love, waiting at a bus stop. They were cuddling, teasing, pushing, laughing. Suddenly, the girl started dancing - pure abandon. I couldn't help but smile. She saw me and smiled back, then waved. I waved back.

That's the image I want in my head this weekend. Even if you have to wait for the bus in the early morning cold, you can dance.

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