Stick To Your Life Plans—Or Should You?

Eight years ago Lynn Naliboff put together a journal of dreams impeccably detailed with all the things she wanted to achieve. She lined each page with inspiring images from magazines to keep the visuals fresh in mind, reminding her that her goals were important. Then she put it in a drawer and referred to it when she got off track. The journal incorporated all Naliboff’s passions: to travel, be a food writer, be in a job she loved, and someday be married with children. Each page was dedicated to something she wanted in life.

“When I started it I wanted to push myself to achieve more in life, so I wouldn’t get lazy,” says Naliboff, a Stamford resident. “I wanted to remind myself ‘I can’ and to figure out how I would.” Naliboff, a direct marketing writer, has achieved many of her goals. Paris and Spain were amazing and Napa Valley was stunning. She’s also developed a food blog of low fat recipes (lynnsfavoriterecipes.blogspot.com). But at 41, she feels time is running out for marriage and children. While she was out forming a career and building a life that was self-sustaining and interesting, the dream of a family took a back seat. It hasn’t fizzled, but she says she’s not going to expend energy on it the way she did in her 30s.

How did I get here?

“I try not to think about it, but it’s just so not where I thought I would be. I am trying not to regret it, but I do a little bit,” says Naliboff. “And I really hate living my life with regret, so I need to focus and really strive to achieve the things I want to achieve.” So, she is reevaluating her plan.

Naliboff has the attitude you need, says life coach Cynthia Mayer, whose practice is in Westport. “Grieving the loss of a fantasy is sometimes harder than a person,” says Mayer. “It can hit hard. Sometimes people get so attached to their life plans they forget to leave space to be open and flexible.”

Many of us wake up one day and find ourselves asking: How did I get here? You could be talking about your relationship, lack of one, or a job. It’s kind of like a line straight out of the Talking Heads song, “Once in a Lifetime”—a sort of midlife crisis theme song. We are just kind of going along, “the same as it ever was,” without direction because complacency is sometimes easier. Mayer stresses getting on track means finding out what’s standing in your way. But it’s hard to take a deeper look. Why are some of us so afraid? Then one day we wake up, and we’re 50. Is it too late to start over?

Why do we need plans?

If you subscribe to the philosophy that you only get one shot in this world, it is never too late to get off the couch and get in control. Because we don’t want to find ourselves “rudderless, floating on a sea without a direction,” says Kathy Caprino, Norwalk-based woman’s career and executive coach. Caprino, who is also a licensed therapist in Fairfield County, documented it all in her book, “Breakdown, Breakthrough,” which highlights hidden crisis working women face and how to overcome them. After a year of interviewing women who are successful, she “found the happiest [ones] are the ones with a direction.”

Caprino’s journey to her own enlightenment began about 10 years ago while she was a corporate executive in a job that wasn’t fitting with her life. Even though the high-paying salary was a motivator, her personal life was suffering. Then, after an 18-year reign, one day she found herself pushed out, and out of work. Just like that.

“When I got bumped out of the corporate world, it was an awful thing to be discarded,” she says. As she entered her 40s, she was forced to take a good look at her life. Her therapist told her now was the time to ask yourself: Who do you want to be? And she found the things she wanted as an adult were not so far off from the things that she wanted at 18. “We don’t recognize the things that are easy as skills.” That’s why she thinks it is important to start a life plan while you are young, so you can identify your skills. She explained, “When you look back on who you were, you’ll find the core of who you are is unchanging.”

Caprino stepped back and got what she calls an empowered perspective. “We think we blew it when things go bad,” she says. “We don’t understand it is all there for our growth.” Caprino, now 51, is doing all the things that she loved in her youth: writing, coaching, and even singing (she married a musician). She also formed Ellia Communications and now invests a lot of time to changing the workplace model she once found so stifling, so women feel they can have it all.

Be persistent.

The road to success can be long and winding. Ellen Makar can tell you all about that. While growing up in Trumbull, she had ambitions. She wanted to go to college, but didn’t really feel like there were many female mentors to guide her. She didn’t know what to even look for. There was no Internet to conduct Google searches back then.

So, she decided on a traditional female-dominated field: nursing. But after experiencing high-pressured life and death emergency room situations, she realized the clinical side wasn’t for her. Administration was. The idea was first planted in Nursing School, but would require furthering her education with a bachelor’s and masters. So she set a lofty goal: by age 30, she would have it all. Then maybe she’d be able to stay home or work part time when she had kids.

But that didn’t work out. Love came along a lot sooner than later and so did the kids, and she had to reevaluate her timetable. The 1990s brought a weakened economy, and Makar wasn’t about to give up her job. Instead, she was working two jobs at an insurance company and a nursing facility, while taking classes, and sharing kid duty with her husband, who was also going to school.

Her motivation and her persistence kept her going. It was a long haul, but finally she got her bachelor’s and ultimately landed a job at Yale Medical Center. She was climbing the corporate ladder in administration and was on her way. But something was missing: her masters. This time she applied to Yale University.

Makar feels had she stuck with the original plan, she would have missed out on this life-changing experience. Call it serendipity. “[Yale] was an absolutely transformative experience for me. I would like to think everything I did led me to be at that college.” By leaving room to be flexible, Makar was able to achieve her goals. “It took me 15 years to get there, but I did it.”

Follow your heart.

The key to a life plan is to identify that one thing you love, to stick with it, and to learn from your mistakes along the way. “You need disappointments to grow,” Steve Jobs told the 2005 Stanford University graduating class. And though the words in this commencement address may seem cliché and over-Tweeted since Jobs’ death, the core of it still rings true. By making mistakes, you can start over and begin again. Call it luck.

Even though meeting a man is no longer one of Naliboff’s top goals, she’s still planning on attending a speed-dating event. Because, “you have to remain open.” And that’s why Makar is staying on top of her industry, in case she needs to reinvent her skills once again. As for Caprino, every time she visualizes what she wants to be, new doors open and she goes for it. “The ability to keep going and stay focused on whatever you are doing,” says Mayer, “that’s creating your own luck.”

 A version of this article is published in HealthyLife CT.

How do I form a life plan? In five easy steps!

1.     Know yourself. What do you truly want in life: A new career? A relationship? More travel? More education? Ask yourself what’s missing and what will make you happy—and why.

2.     Write it down. Begin to form a blueprint of your life by adding inspirational anecdotes, pictures, and quotes of milestones you want to achieve—to remind you why you chose these goals in the first place.

3.     Set goals that are realistic and highly targeted to what you want (keeping some far-reaching ones in mind). By forming a well-constructed plan that involves all your goals, you are creating something you know you can achieve.

4.     Do something every day that puts you closer to reaching your goal: Make a phone call, send an email, or research your topic more. Remember, you can’t make progress unless you do something about it.

5.     Refer to your goals often and, most importantly, stay positive.

Layering Trends: Fashioned-Challenged Moms Can Make It Work

Anyone who knows me knows I know nothing when it comes to fashion. Phew. Say that 10 times fast. I think that profound statement came from a lack of sleep stemming from a household of sickness.
It's true, though. I pretty much wear the same thing all the time: jeans, cardigan, boots. I hardly wear any make-up and, with small kids, I don't have time to get my hair done regularly. I cut my own bangs a lot. 
I am so in awe of people who are put together. But I just want to know: How do they have the time? Is this some sort of gift I am lacking, kind of like missing that math gene? Is there a course I can take: Evelyn Wood Speed Fashion? It would take me hours to look good. I have really thick, long poker-straight hair. Curling that mane is a part-time job.

Recently I did an article on a trend in fashion: layering. My original piece featured a really cool mom, my friend Marcy. The one that got published featured a story on layering for winter (not as fun, plus where's our New England winter??). Marcy is a work-at-home mom who is just super awesome. And super busy. She's like me—and a lot of other moms I know: She just doesn't have time to cater to every magazine's idea of how we should look. Here's her story and how it relates to the layering fashion trend, mixed in with some advise from some great layering gurus. I hope you enjoy!

THE STORY! 

“Sometimes I gaze into my closet and wonder when I hired a fashion-challenged male teenager as my wardrobe consultant,” says Marcy Kelman, a stay-at-home mom in Monroe. Kelman’s closet consists of what she considers to be very boyish pieces: jeans, t-shirts, polos, Converse, and hoodies. She thinks she’s dressing for the skate park; kids probably consider her the coolest mom in the carpool.

“I’ve been working from home for the past 10 years, raising two kids,” says Kelman, who writes children’s books for Disney Publishing. “Since I don’t work in an office, I haven’t had the need to buy ‘nice’ clothes.” Comfort has been her go-to. But do we have to sacrifice fashion for comfort? How do you achieve a polished look without needing an entirely new wardrobe?

Making it work. Welcome to layering ladies! It’s all about “making it work,” a catch-phrase we might be sick of hearing, but has particular significance when you want to be fashionable and not spend a ton of money. “You don’t have to reinvent the wheel,” says Rowayton-based Fashion Style Consultant Trish McQuillen. “People need to learn how to make more outfits out of what they have.” So they stay classic and not get tired.

And who wouldn’t want to look like they just stepped out of a Vanity Fair photo shoot meticulously styled by Rachel Zoe so every obsessive detail looks utterly effortless? Dare a woman to say no.

A good staple. Here’s how layering works. Start with a good base piece, like a Henley or a T-shirt. Then pair it up with a cardigan or a vest, and cinch it with a belt—a great slimming feature for all body types. You can even layer in different ways to make a few pieces in your wardrobe go a long way. Add a faux fur collar to your cardigan or a beautiful scarf to create something more sophisticated, taking your outfit from day into night.

“Play with proportions,” suggests Jennifer Sauer, Milford fashion and handbag designer of the line Vessel Couture. “Things look more fashionable when they are peaking out—the longer pieces under shorter pieces and long sleeves under sweaters.”

A total fabrication.

“Textural dimension in outfits is important,” explains Andrew Mitchell-Namdar, Vice President and Creative Director of The Mitchell Family of Stores in Westport and Greenwich and Huntington, New York. “Think wool sweater or think cashmere underneath.” Or trying paring corduroy with cotton or a tweed jacket with a T-shirt and suede riding pants topped off with a pair of riding boots. Or substitute that pant for a pencil skirt, that jacket for a cable knit sweater.

Layering is as much for function as it is for fashion. It will keep you warm, but it’s also a lifestyle. Think of it as a philosophy, it’s a fail-proof way to make your old clothes new again. It’s practical, utilitarian, decorative. Not to mention sophisticated. It feels very Abercrombie—or on a higher level, Ralph Lauren.

The Layering Movement. It’s actually Brunello Cucinelli, says Mitchell-Namdar. Research Cucinelli and you’ll find he refers to himself as the Italian Ralph Lauren, and his devotees refer to him as the father of layering. With his different fabrications and uses of soft-muted colors like grays, browns, navy, and dusty rose, his looks are so timeless, his designs so clean, you can’t help but aspire to achieve it. It’s inspiration for everybody, transcending age, gender, body type, and fashion-challenged women everywhere.

“Its really taken hold in the last year and a half,” says Mitchell-Namdar. “It’s been gaining more strength as a fashion [statement].”  One that you can easily take into the spring, too, he says. For warmer weather, layer sweaters with lightweight cotton blend dresses or adding in a micro-cashmere vest helps seasonally as well. Transitional seasons add the bonus of shedding a few layers and adding them back on.

Boy, oh boy. Vests, sweaters, T-shirts? It’s all sounding very “boyish,” isn’t it? Kelman is blindly aware that she is already ahead of the game! All she needs is the confidence to put it all together and switch up her wardrobe.

“People tend to have these go-to outfits that are only using 20 to 25 of your closet,” points out McQuillen, who spent most of her career at Giorgio Armani and now runs her company Design Inc. Most people aren’t aware of all they own and will go right back to what they know, wearing the same outfit over and over again.

“I’d like to have a closet that includes all-purpose staples, like black dress pants, stylish shoes, skirts, and nice blouses,” explains Kelman. “These go-to items currently don’t exist in my closet. If I could find dressy alternatives to the things I enjoy layering, I think that would open up a lot of options for me.”

McQuillen can help. She provides consultation services to pare down a client’s closet by creating a clothing inventory to style a few outfits out of only a few pieces of things you already own. Whatever is missing, she’ll recommend as “fillers,” like a great scarf, belt, or trouser. She may even take you shopping for it. A wonderful service for those who are too overwhelmed to shop solo or just too busy.

Busy? Sort it out. To make your life easier during the hectic work mornings, you might want to try basic organization: sort your closet into sections. “I put all the outer pieces like jackets and vests in one area, button-down shirts in another, and short and long sleeves in another,” recommends Sauer, who is also Department Chair of Fashion and Merchandising at Sanford-Brown College in Simsbury, formerly Gibbs College in Norwalk. If you know what you own, you can expand your wardrobe three-fold.

Runway ready. So how do you turn those old pieces into something beautiful, so you feel like you’ve stepped out of Vogue?

Modern fashion is all about color blocking or mixing, says Sauer.  You combine different colors that support and compliment. Look through any fashion magazine and “everything is a mash-up. Gone are the days of matching your shoe to your bag,” she says. Hello to taking risks. Add in your leopard, zebra, or bright yellow accents. Play with your accessories like adding chunky necklaces or a textured bag to pop against your outfit.

Once you do it, you may get hooked, because it’s just fun. 

Christmas Traffic: It's Mad!

Here we go: Christmas traffic. You’re actually enjoying Christmas shopping this year. You are finding everything. What luck! You reward yourself with a little Christmas music. Nothing can touch your mood. Call it Holiday Magic. "The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear!" Half way into your personal best of "Feliz Navidad," you can feel something huge approaching. You check your rearview mirror and an 18-wheeler is sneaking up behind you with big bold letters spelling 

T-R-O-J-A-N emblazoned across the front, side, and top of the truck (LP: 919270—BTW). “This cannot be good."

Out of nowhere this Spartan speeds up, cuts you off, and turns onto the highway faster than you can yell “D**K!” And just like that, there goes your Christmas spirit. Now you are Scrooge.

After years spent driving 95 and witnessing stories like this on a daily basis, it’s gets harder to curb the language. Or the fear.

Years ago when cell phones used to be car phones, I witnessed something that made me break that receiver right out of the case, put is against my ear, and call 911. I was driving along and came to a complete halt. That’s the way it is on I-95. One minute you are going 55 mph, then next you’re going 0. And there was this woman was rocking in the middle of the road, right in front of her car that had spun around and was facing oncoming traffic (me). It was a scene out of a movie. A hearing-impaired gentleman signed to me asking if I had a phone. I didn’t know any sign language except for learning the alphabet in Girl Scouts (which would come in handy later when I had my kids), but I understood what he wanted. So I made the call. There were enough Samaritans surrounding her, so I left, completely scarred. I still wonder how they were able to get her off the road and keep her safe.

Then there was that time in Bridgeport when I saw a truck ram into an SUV—twice. The truck was in the middle lane, the SUV in the slow lane. I saw the whole thing: the horror on the woman’s face thinking “Will I survive?” then I noticed her middle schooler in the back seat. The truck hit the driver’s side twice, and didn’t even stop. My car phone was a cell now, and I used it to call 911. Every time I think of someone in a life or death situation, I picture this woman’s face. That’s what last moments look like.

Then there was my own accident. I foolishly headed to work during a snowstorm. The roads seemed okay, there were certainly enough people on them, until I decided to get out of the middle lane and cross into the slow lane to let people pass me. I hit an ice patch, and all I can remember was spinning and hearing loud noises as I bumped along the guardrail a few times. Thankfully I didn’t hit anything else. Not one car. But I totaled mine. As I was spinning, I saw that woman’s face. Man, 95 sucks, I thought. 

So consider this a public service message for safe driving during the holidays or any time, really. 

Watch out. Cause it’s not you. It’s the other guy. Mad drivers are everywhere.

A Mother-Daughter Road Trip

Mother-Daughter Road Trip: Atlanta, 2005

We were running pretty late for a road trip. It was already 9:30 a.m. and my daughter still wasn't ready—or fully packed. "Michaela!" I yelled up the stairs. "Let's go!!"
"W-H-A-T-A?! I'll be down in a minute!" she screamed with attitude.
Teenagers can be so loving.

My daughter and I have been taking "mother-daughter" bonding trips since she was very little. We've been to Atlanta, Nashville, New Mexico, San Diego, Block Island, and Punta Cana. This time we were headed to Plymouth, MA, to visit my college roommate like we had done so many times before. Looking back it doesn't even seem possible that I was the one who ended up making us late. But I confess. It was me.

Michaela came down the stairs in a half-eyed haze and plopped herself down on the couch, hair so tangled and mangy she looked like she had been playing drums all night at Grateful Dead concert in between selling falafels and playing hacky sac. She opted for sleep instead of a shower. And her hair is wavy and curly, so this is what it does when it's not brushed. 

I took a good look at her. "I am NOT doing braids," I told her. It would take three bottles of Frizz Ease and 20 minutes just to get through the uncombed tangles sleep causes. Maybe another 10 for the braids. This was time we didn't have.
"I didn't ask you to do braids," she said. True.
"Is that all you have?" I asked. One bag. Seriously? One bag? I had been calling up the stairs for an hour and this is all she was bringing.

Time check. 9:50 a.m. I threw our bags in the back of the Volvo. "Hit the bathroom," I said. "It's a long drive. Get something to eat. Get up. Get off the couch!"
She convinced me Dunkin' Donuts was the way to go. Anything to get on the road. We headed out to the car. The car I hate because it drives like a truck.
"Can you grab the GPS under the seat?"
"It's not there."
"Maybe it's in the back." It wasn't there either.
Panic. I ran into the house to grill my husband. Maybe he took it out and put it in the other car.
He was waiting at the door. He knows I always come back in before getting on the road.
"What did you forget?"
"Where's the GPS?"
"I don't know, where you always keep it."
"It's not in the car."
"Then, it's stolen." He always thinks things are stolen.
"Are you kidding me!" I needed that for directions.
We spent the next half hour looking for the GPS while Michaela waited in the car.
Time check. 10:25 a.m. Now, we would hit beach traffic, my husband reminded me. Better take 84 instead of 95.
"Screw the GPS," I said. "I have to leave. Can you write down the directions? Wait, I'll call you from the road." I had to get going.

I have been to my friend's house a ton of times, but there's this rotary on 495 that always confuses me. That and the fact I always forget to go through Providence and take the wrong exit 3. With 84, I'd bypass all that but 84 was a new route for me. Everyone who knows me knows I have no sense of direction. I drive by my own exit all the time. I needed that GPS!
Ok, I am going to be honest. I am a winger. In all my optimistic preparation, I still just kind of go with the flow and whatever happens, happens. And this is very typical of what happens. Whenever I travel, I am always late. I always get lost. And I always have to call a million times for directions. Even if I bring them. One time I was looking at my directions to Plymouth (which were neatly written out) and they flew out the window. They literally flew out the window.

"Call John (my husband)," I told Michaela. First mistake.
"Put him on speaker phone and write down the rest of the directions."
Second mistake.
We couldn't hear him, and she was in no mood to take dictation.
And this is where I lost it. Third mistake.
"Why can't you just write down what he says? Why is that so hard?"
"WHAT-A? I couldn't even hear him! OMG, you are a crazy person. Just do it yourself."
"You can't talk to me like that. I will turn this car around."
"You can't talk to ME like that."
"You are stressing me out, and I don't want to feel stress when I have to drive three hours!"
"You are stressing ME out!"
"Stop talking!"
"You stop talking."
"STOP TALKING! You better not say even one more word. DO NOT TALK!
Silence.
More silence.
Five minutes of silence.

Contemplation. Hmmm. I wanted to have a fun mother-daughter road trip, just like our others. We used to have so much fun together before the teen years hit. Before I got remarried and had more kids. Before other people took the place of her, she always reminds me.
I turned and looked at her. I have her for only four more years then she's off to college, I thought. I miss her already. At the rate we're going, she'll probably only wave when she leaves. And right now she is still calling me Mommy. Who knows how long this will last? I need to enjoy her more,  I thought. She's a great  kid. I need to tell her more often.

Me, Michaela, now 14, and Lydia, now 3.
Time is flying.

I glanced in her direction. "Ok, I'm sorry for acting like a freak."
Nothing.
"Hello? I said I was sorry, so now you say you are sorry for being so rude to your mother."
Silence.
"Say you are sorry."
Nothing.
"Talk."
Nothing but the tires hitting the potholes.

"You better say something. TALK! START TALKING! NOW!"

It's official, I thought. I am crazy.

I turned to her and saw that familiar "Michaela smurk" spread across her face.

"You told me not to talk," she said.

I knew this was coming. "You have permission to say I am sorry to your mother."
"But I'm not sorry because you were rude."
"Say you are sorry, so we can move on with this stupid, ridiculous conversation that has already taken too much time off my life I will never get back."
"I am sorry, Mother." I wish you could have heard how she said it because it was so quintessentially Michaela. Mother sounds like Mutha, and there is the silliest look on her face which says, I won but I am letting you think you won.

We were only at the Hamden Tunnel on 15, twenty minutes into the drive. If this was the start of my weekend, I may as well get a flat tire and wait all day for AAA (been there!).

But the bickering stopped. And soon she fell asleep. I concentrated on the road, sang to the radio, and didn't get lost. We ended up having this awesome weekend with each other and with friends. Neither of us wanted to leave.

That night after everyone went to sleep, Michaela and I stayed up talking until 2 a.m.
It was great.
"Go to sleep. I'm tired of talking." I joked.
"Me, too. Good-night, Mommy."
"Good night, honey. I love you."
"I love you, too."
I went to bed thinking about my other two: the three year old and nine month old. It was only a few short years ago Michaela was that young.
It all goes by so fast—isn't that what they say?
Well, guess what? It's really true.

Men In Leisure

Men in Leisure 

When my friend Melissa and I were going into our senior year of college (well, my extended senior year), we took a weekend trip to Boston. Melissa just got this incredible new Nikon, and we decided to roam the city documenting “men in leisure.” A "man in leisure" can be defined by us as: any man seen relaxing in a leisurely way with his eyes closed. 

It was an accident, really. We were in the Museum of Fine Arts (my first time), and as we walked out the door, we noticed some guy splayed on a retaining wall. We couldn’t see his face, but knew he was cute. I think it was the way he draped his body along the wall. He was laying on his side as if he were about to do Pilates sidekicks. One of his knees was bent up to his chest. For a guy who was getting some shut-eye, he had great balance. He was so cool. The epitome of cool. Cool personified.

His body was perfectly sculpted as one would think a serious cyclist would be—and he was serious. How did we know he was a cyclist? He was wearing very serious, body-contouring, tight bike shorts. I really didn't need to see all of it, but there it was. "I am a Golden God!" He probably said that to himself a million times. He was definitely a mirror-worshipper. Perhaps he had too much sun because that day his bike helmet provided a tip of shade, and his expensive racer bike was purposely propped up against the wall so any minute he could sit upright and jump on it. He was definitely a "man in leisure" with a purpose. He probably spends his life running away from love. The moment deserved to be captured. Snap! Man in Leisure (MIL) number 1.

We walked away joking about our MIL and how we may have some great new concept on our hands. Or it was just the most hilarious idea we had ever thought about and the one thing we needed to fill up our summer — and take our minds off our relationships, or lack there of. We couldn't stop giggling on the T, wondering what our next find would be like. We just roamed through the streets, I am not even sure where we went next, but ultimately found Man in Leisure number 2. This guy was slouching on a park bench. He was the opposite of Leisure 1. He was old and rather rotund, his rolls hanging from his core, as he slept with his feet to the ground, arms dangling from his sides like two blocks of ice melting. It was a very hot day. A prime candidate for mugging, I thought. But I am ridiculously paranoid about these things.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the protruding rolls—each were so full, so hearty, and had clearly enjoyed a lot of living, I thought. I stared at that fat guy for a long time. You know when you get the sense someone is looking at you? He knew, but he didn’t care. He didn’t cock his head when he gave me the stink eye. He hardly moved at all when he opened one eye barely enough to stare back. He shut it quickly. He had been judged before. I started to make up a story about him in my head. It was lunchtime, and he had just punched the clock for his daily walk—at least that’s what he tells his coworkers back at at the shop. But he never gets too far, because he plops down on his favorite bench for his much-needed respite from his rolls of life. As happy as he is (he had a smirk on his face), he is dying inside because he will never be the person he set out to become when he was a kid. All those dreams… Now he was just going through the motions. He once had a purpose and now, he was just a MIL without one. Getting through the day can be so hard, I thought he thought. (What can I say? I live in my head.) 

A photo of my husband with our youngest—
and SURPRISE! Look in the background. A Man in Leisure.

When I think about this MIL collection, it could have been so interesting. I don’t remember how far we got with it that day—what I remember most is the heat and how we high-tailed it to the Christian Science Plaza to dip our feet in the reflecting pool, along with many, many others. We didn't find any other MILs that afternoon, but Melissa put her Nikon to good use. She got some great shots of kids being kids, running around splashing, jumping, laughing. It was really fun to watch them have fun.

And, my own Man in Leisure—my husband.

Men in Leisure.  It has such a great ring to it, doesn’t it? I still look for MILs. And now you are aware, you probably will, too. And if you look close enough, you can find one everywhere you go—even in your own home.