The lights on my car come on and go off automatically, so when I have to manually do anything with my lights, it can be a confusing time for me and the Murano.

Its not often that I have to deal with them, but when it rains the lights don't always come on, so I have to turn them on by hand.  Then when I open my car door, the buzzer thing goes off telling me to turn the lights off. 

I try to do so, but the buzzer continues to go off.  It's maddening, because I spend more time that I'd like to admit trying to figure the thing out.  There have been times when I've just closed the door and pretended that the buzzer wasn't going off, I just couldn't deal with it, life is short you know.  The lights are actually off, I never quite understood the point the buzzer was trying to make. 

Then, just recently, I realized that when trying to turn the lights out, I had been turning the wrong knob.   (Please keep that just between me and you, it's quite embarrassing.)

Poor, pitiful me, I had turned the right knob to turn the lights on, but was turning another knob, the wrong knob, to turn them off.  More specifically, I was turning the knob for the windshield wipers but I didn't realize it cause the car was off, so the wipers weren't coming on.

Crazy as this all sounds, and it is crazy, it kinda reminds me of how we sometimes address issues in our lives...

We know we have a problem, we think we can fix it and we're working hard at it, but things just never work out the way want them to. 

Could it be that we're  turning the wrong knob... seeking solutions from the wrong source... diving into the details with the wrong people... or even trying to go solo when we really should ask for help?

Maybe that's why our wipers are coming on when we really should be turning the lights out.

That old saying, "if at first you don't succeed, try again" is, in my opinion, not quite true.

I think it should be rephrased to suggest that if at first you don't succeed, you should do something else.  In other words, turn another knob.

A woman I knew throughout my childhood recently died.

I would have gone to her funeral but, quite honestly, I didn't because I had a hair dresser appointment that day.  I had been looking forward to getting a good cut and I was sure that the deceased would understand.

She was that type of woman.  Always dressed well,  always looked good, she was a fashionista with a capital "Fash."  So I knew she'd understand me not being at her funeral.  In fact, had she seen my hair the day before, she would have it no other way.

Anyway, I asked someone who did attend how the funeral was.  That's a crazy question, I know, but it's one I'm sure you're familiar with.  I really don't know what we expect the answer to be, but the answer I got this time caused me to pause.

The guy said that the funeral was nice, there were many people there and there was lots of food left over.

That's it.  After 30+ years of knowing this woman, that was it.... it had come to just this.

Now, please understand that I'm not at all putting the guy down for his answer.  It was a perfectly honest and legitimate response, after all, what did I really expect him to say?  But still, it made me pause.

And I told myself that I'd better live my life the way I want to live it and to do the things that make me happy. 

I'd better take more days off and talk longer on the phone.  I'd better go on more trips and watch more movies.

I'd better spend more time with the ones I love and forgive the ones I don't.

And, as Irma Bombeck once said, I'd better burn the good candles.

Because when it's all said and done, a few folks will go to my funeral and the event will be judged by how many people are there and whether or not there was food left.

Excuse me, I've gotta run...  I must also find out who's bringing the chicken to my repast and make sure they bring enough!   :-)

Divorce-aversary.  Probably not a word, but it should be.

Just like an wedding anniversary marks the beginning of the relationship, a divorceavesary marks the end.   And it should be recognized and, in some cases, celebrated.   I choose to do both.

Oh sure, as bad as my divorce was, I have regrets about the end of my marriage.  I had no idea that things would work out this way, this really wasn't supposed to happen to a good church girl like me.

But, between me and you, I would have had a lot more regrets had my marriage never ended.  It really needed to end.   

So today I rejoice in the end and embrace the beginning of my third year as a divorced woman. 

Instead of consulting with friends about this and that and everything else happening your life, you really should be the expert over your own existence.  Who knows you better than you?

Today's challenge was to open a storage box in your home and take a picture of something that's in there and explain why you're holding onto it.

I took a picture of these rocks.

You see, many years ago, my nephews realized that there were rocks in the creek behind their home.  And they thought that they should gather them, paint them, and sell them.

As a sucker for anything remotely entrepreneurial, I thought this was wonderful, so I purchased one rock from each of them.  This picture shows them.

These are not "just rocks."  These represent the  intelligence and ingenuity of two young boys who were (and still are) very dear to me.

Today they are young men.

One is a software engineer, having earned a Master's degree in just 4 years.  The other is  finishing his second year of college, where he spends most of his time in the music studio and on the Dean's list.

They have no memory of these rocks... but I do.

One of my blogging groups has a cool thing going on for the month of May.,,

We're supposed to concentrate on SHOWING our stories, not just telling them, and we'll do that through the use of photographs.

Today's challenge is to show the oldest thing in your home.

I'm not sure if this is the oldest, but it certainly must be one of the oldest and it is also one of the dearest things I own.  Not because of what it is, but because of who it is from.

My grandmother gave me this when I was about 10 years old.  It was a candle and it came from Avon.  This little thing has survived move after move and pieces have broken off, bit by bit, over the years.  But it now sits on the sink of my brand new house  -- old, broken, with blemishes that can't be removed -- but it's mine.  And I love it because Nana gave it to me.

I have no children to leave this to, I'm hoping that my niece will take it after I'm gone, but I wonder if she'll want it.  After all, she didn't know my grandmother, to her and to anyone else, this gem will just look like an old, battered thing that should be tossed away.  But to me, it is so much more. 

This "old thing" is the only link I have to my grandmother and I will treasure it always.