Smile. Fresh air is good for your teeth.

My parents came up to "circle the wagons", as I've been calling it. They wanted to make sure that Husband and I were doing okay with the dismal job situation. With them came a bunch of groceries, a bottle of whiskey, a variety of chocolate.

While they were here, my dad got a call that his beloved brother had died very suddenly while out of the country on vacation. So there we sat, Friday night, having a drink to toast my uncle, eating cake to wallow a bit. Talking and laughing and philosophizing, seeking a pattern to the fragments of chaos that life seems to be right now.

The Dictator, giving us all perspective, as we sat at the kitchen table, talking:

"Sometimes I smile so much that I can't see, 'cause my cheeks are in the way."



Several people have remarked to Husband and me over the past few days that they can't believe that we're still smiling.

I reply, "What else can I do?"

No one has just been given 2 weeks to live. We're together; we're fed; we're sheltered; we're praying. The rest is uncertain, but the important parts are covered. Oh, and we're still able to laugh.

Sure, I must admit that there have been more than a few moments of tears this past week. I've cried more in one week than I have in the past two years combined. But, in general, I really think we do have a positive outlook on this. I don't want to give in to despair.

My motto at my former place of employment, for the past several years, was "Show up smiling every day until they tell you not to." Through all the stress of employees fighting against each other, each one trying to appear important enough to keep, I tried really hard to smile. Every day.

This is no different.