There’s a cosmetics saleswoman in Chuck’s Wednesday business networking group.  Last week she got up to introduce a new product – a firming eye cream.

Well, Chuck started to smile and when she asked what was so funny, he replied that he was just trying to imagine <i>affirming eye cream</i>, you know, you crack open the lid and it starts talking “My, don’t you look pretty today!  Your eyes are lovely in that particular shade of shadow!  Have you been losing weight?  You look 10 years younger since you started using our new affirming eye cream!”

Oy Vay, that’s my husband.  You should hear him at a drive-thru.

The temperatures this week have been blissfully cold!  In fact, yesterday most of greater Austin was closed down due to the sleet and ice that accumulated over the previous night. 

Chuck worked from home for a good part of the morning but at 9:30 he decided to take the car for a skate down Parmer Lane.  Thirty-minutes or so later he was back at the house because Parmer was a sheet of ice and he didn’t like the way some of the skaters were hogging the road, showing off their spins and bumping the other cars onto the shoulder.

Every time we decide to take a trip Chuck lays out the same strategy:  “Cindy, We need to have the van packed and loaded by 4:00 PM the night before.  We’ll sleep in our travel clothes.  I want to pull out of the driveway at ‘first light.’”  To this I reply, “Yes, Dear,  it’ll be ‘first light’ somewhere in the world."

I used to believe that the chance of us leaving anywhere near ‘first light,’ local time, was about as good as Ted Turner finding religion or Satan opening a Snow Cone stand.

I stood at the base and gazed in awe and wonderment at the peak of this mountain I was about to conquer.  One week’s journey had I traveled; through grassy meadow and over city sidewalk did I tread to get this far.

After several moments of contemplation the realization hit me:  “It is unattainable in this short time.”

Child, you must remember you have the power.  The tools and training have been provided to you.  There is no one else, but you.

“I cannot ascend this behemoth.”

No, ascend you will not.  You will bring it down; bit by bit you will bring it down.

“It will take forever!”  I protested.

No; not forever.

And so it was the day I brought down the mountain.  Piece by piece did I bring it down.  Separating each according to its kind:  dark, white, and colors; each sorted according to its kind.  Then I washed them.  One load after another I cleaned them.  Hot for whites and towels, cold for colors and darks, in the gentle cycle I washed them.

I brought down the mountain.