March 30th, 2025

Today's quote popped up on a meme recently. It comes from an Edgar Allan Poe poem titled "Annabel Lee."

I was given the task as a seventeen-year-old boy to do a paper on this poem. I can still read the words from that assignment in my head forty years later. It would have been a better grade if I had the wisdom and experience the last forty years has brought.

In the poem, Poe talks about a young man in mourn because he lost the love of his life to death.

In my forty years since that C- paper, I only lost love because of a failure to keep it kindled. I found it when it was pure and meaningful, but I couldn't keep it strong. I let it lose its meaning.

I have never been able to truly complete my assignment the way my instructor expected. When we are young, we look at love with hope and romance. We don't see the daily chores that love insists on having to keep it nurtured. Love was lollypops, unicorns, firecrackers and whoopie cushions when I wrote that paper.

I have dated widows, divorcees and never married women since the end of my Exile west of Mannheim. All of them shared a part of their heart with me during our time together.

The widows mourn for their Annabel Lee, the divorced despise their Annabel Lee and the singles search for their Annabel Lee.

I quoted Lord Tennyson in that C- paper. It didn't impress my teacher at the time and it no longer impresses me. I used Alfred's famous line, "It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."

That is a crock of shit and a complete copout.

The shittiest pain we come across in life is the loss of love. No doubt about it.

The love that I lost to death has turned into a spiritual love that transcends the heavens and masks my grief. I never let go of the loved ones that died because, either due to my faith or the fact that I am simply bullshitting myself, they are all a phone call away. I can't reach them with AT&T, but I can talk with them through prayer.

As for the love I lost due to the pilot light going out and the matches soaked in tears.... I mask that grief with the three things that call me "Dad."

I woke up thinking about a pizza puff. Did you know the pizza puff was invented in Chicago?

I can't have a pizza puff for another month, but it is highly likely....

...my lips will be around one in the merry month of May.

Sometimes I will order a pizza puff instead of French fries.

Don't laugh!

Try it!

Next time you go to your favorite hotdog joint. Try a hotdog with a pizza puff or an Italian beef and a pizza puff. Fucking gourmet heaven.....

This week brings us the month of April. Soon the Jews will be having Seder and the Catlicks will be splitting up jellybeans.

Go out there and compose a "C-" paper that will someday become an "A" due to life's experience.

Annabel Lee

By Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea—

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

March 29th, 2025

 Today’s quote comes from existentialist writer and philosopher, Albert Camus.

I’m not going to get real deep into this quote this morning.

Let me delicately put this in Chicagonese.

“Youse better give a shit today and work your ass off. Do good shit for da guy down the block. Try to go ta mass and don’t bitch and moan.

Why youse ask?

‘Cause God willing… but you never noze about tomorrow. Do today and maybe tomorrow will bring da blessing.

(Read that in a Chicago Brogue)

I will never claim to know the ins and outs of existentialism, but I do know Grawbowskism.

Give everything you have today to God, your Family and your friends. Work your dick off for your employer and take your Christmas tree down before the middle of January.

For years I’ve talked about getting straight F’s in life.

•Foundation: Faith, Family and Friends•

A friend of mine recently told me that you should strive to get a couple C’s in life as well.

•Choice, Chances and Changes•

You must make a choice to take a chance or your life will never change.

C’s and F’s in life….

….wont get you on the honor roll, but it will make today better and tomorrow possibly brighter.

Today is rugby day… The Chicago Hounds are down in New Orleans this evening to punch Nola Gold around the pitch.

Play well Gentlemen.

March 28th, 2028

 The last weekend of March. It’s going to be warm and rainy just like it is supposed to be.

Might be a good time to sweep the sheds and do some spring cleaning.

Chicago baseball season started out with a couple wins yesterday. We have that going for us today.

I’m going to enjoy my coffee as this early morning storm rolls in over the river. The lions are roaring loud this morning and lightning is pounding the horizon.

Enjoy the end of March

March 27th, 2025

  Summer of ‘78, I was playing catch in the front yard with my new stepbrother. My dad remarried earlier that year and I suddenly had three stepbrothers and a stepmother.

My recently acquired sibling was a couple years younger than me. We were playing catch with a league even though he pleaded to play with a rubber ball.

It was just before dinner and my father appeared from around the corner. He was walking home from the Lake Street CTA. A cigarette was hanging from his mouth. The papers tucked under the arm of his blue sport coat, wrinkled from a long day at work.

I started showing off as he walked closer to the house. Throwing fastballs at my stepbrother who wasn’t very good at baseball. My dad was standing near his new wife’s son. The Oldman knew right away the kid was struggling and told me to take it easy with him.

That’s when I became Nolan Ryan and threw the baseball as hard as I could. It all happened for me in slow motion. The ball left my left hand and whizzed through the warm July air. Passed my new stepbrothers' baseball glove and hit him square in the face.

Blood and tears everywhere.

I was satisfied with taking down some kid that I suddenly had to share my father with. My brand new stepmomster came running out of the house, down the stoop and across the front yard.

She threw her arms around her bleeding son and called me a bully.

She was right, I was a bully. I was a twelve-year-old kid that was moving out of state that summer. Leaving my dad with his new wife and her three sons.

I had a shit ton of aggression to get out of my system before the move to Indianapolis.

My chest was pumped with pride as I replied that I was wasting my time teaching her crybaby son how to catch a baseball.

That triggered my Oldman. His briefcase hit the sidewalk. He flung his half smoked cigarette onto the street and his folded up Tribune flew up in the air. Coming apart and littering the parkway of our neighbor’s yard.

The Oldman clenched his fist and walloped me in the face. Now I had blood running down my face, but I didn’t have tears.

I tucked my mitt under my arm and walked towards the Ridgeland el stop. The same CTA stop my Oldman just came from after a long day in the Loop.

I had about seven bucks in my pocket and a few CTA tokens that I kept in my wallet. It was one of those new fancy wallets that was made with nylon and closed with velcro. I just got it for my birthday, from my dad’s new wife.

I jumped on the first el that arrived at the station. This would have been an even more adventurous story if that train was heading into Chicago, but this one was a westbound heading to the end of the Lake Street line at Harlem Avenue.

I went west towards downtown Oak Park. It was dinner time, so I walked to the diner across from the bank.

I sat down and ordered a cheeseburger and fries. The waitress noticed the blood on my shirt and secretly called Oak Park’s finest. My supper never arrived, but the police sure did.

Instead of enjoying dinner by myself, I was escorted to the back of a police car. I was back at 220 South Lombard about forty-five minutes after I walked away.

Sitting on the front porch was my dad. Smoking a cigarette and reading the tribune that blew down the street during the aftermath of my fastball incident.

“Good evening officer….”

“Good evening Mr. Shepley, he was sitting in the diner on Marion Street ordering dinner.”

“Thanks for getting him, you might need to call a mortician and Father Harris.”

The police officer laughed as he headed back to his car. You could say shit like that back in 1978. Today, my Oldman would have been placed in the back of that squad car.

I never apologized to that kid or his mother. A few days later I joined my mom in our new home that was one hundred and seventy-six miles away from that front stoop at 220 South Lombard.

I drive by the house often and the first thing I think about every time is the Oldman defending his stepson.

I’m still bitter to this day. Maybe I should have gone to a shrink, but back then we bowed our neck, lowered our shoulders and barreled through.

Almost fifty years later and this Chalkboard is my therapy.

This story is today’s flashback because yesterday, George and I had a lifetime moment that might just be George’s bad memory.

I didn’t punch him, but I threw a water bottle at him in the middle of Lincoln Avenue. Instead of the CTA, George walked over to the Metra. Riverside police snagged him up for me before the train came.

That’s all I’m going to say about that.

The point is….

…all families are dysfunctional and have bad days. You gotta have the bad days to cherish the good days. Now you know the story and I hope it helps a Chalkhead find some settlement in a moment that hurt their past.

Time is getting shorter and all we have is each other.

Today is opening day at Sox Park. I’ll be watching the ballgame on television this year.

Don’t be ashamed of things that happened in the past. Unless your team lost 121 games last year. That is something that can never be healed.

March 26th, 2025

 Go ahead and reread today’s quote, but imagine Mr Rogers’ voice when you’re doing it.

Isn’t it more comforting when you do it that way?

My dad’s home, my dad’s voice, my dad’s arms were the safest and most comfortable things in my life when I was growing up.

Those are all long gone.

BUTT…… you can still catch me watching “Mr Rogers’ Neighborhood” on repeats or even on YouTube.

And for the message in his quote.

I hold these words as truth and I apply them to each day. Yesterday was the end of something and tomorrow will bring something else.

I read an article last night before I fell asleep. We are between eclipses. We had a lunar eclipse in the middle of the month and we have a solar eclipse at the end of the month.

The article was based on the time between these events as a spiritual awakening. A time when good things happen and opportunities are presented to us.

I’m not sure if this is mumble jumble, but I’m going to give it some consideration. The last couple weeks of March will bring prosperity and peace into my life. All because of the moon and the sun. Two things that I keep my eyes on everyday.

I’ve made a point of telling you Chalkheads to always know where the sun and the moon is. Always know where they place your shadow. That is why I have the time in the bottom left hand corner of the Morning Chalkboard every day.

Having the sunrise and sunset or a waning crescent shining through the bedroom window while we sleep is comforting.

Almost as comforting as our parents love or a children’s show on PBS.

Each sunset brings the end to something and every sunrise brings something else.

Let Wednesday the 26th of March bring something else. Something that brings astonishment.

March 25th, 2025

     Here we are on the last Tuesday of the month.

As I was chalking down today’s quote, I earwormed myself with the Phil Collins song, “One More Night.”

I could think of worse songs to be humming in my head as I looked up how many days until the big religious holidays this spring.

That song is forty years old. It came out in 1985. World War Two was forty years old when Phil Collins crooned about having just one more night.

Forty years and I still don’t know what the hell “Sussudio” means. So I used that google deal and looked it up. I think I was better off not knowing. I suggest that you don’t google it. You’ll only be let down like I was. Not knowing what sussudio means is probably a good thing.

Back to the quote….

“One more time”

After going through six months of natures declined into winter hibernation, we get another chance at watching rebirth.

I am already starting to hear the morning songbirds with their pre dawn chorus.

Early spring flowers are starting to pop up in the garden and soon the buds will appear on the barren tree branches.

We are getting another chance to witness the glory of spring. Our Hindu brothers and sisters just celebrated their spring festival of Holi.

Soon our Jewish friends will set a chair for Elijah at their Passover table and Christians will pay high prices for Easter eggs.

Spring is upon us and we get another shot and witnessing rebirth.

It’s time to wash the winter filth off of the dining room window. It’s time to get the Speedo out of storage and it’s time to fill up the tires on the Schwinn.

I don’t know about you, but I’m done Wintering. I’m ready for a rebirth and another glance at the beauty around me.

The older that I get, the more important spring has become. It’s an annual second chance at experiencing how fucking glorious life is.

Spring is springing. It hasn’t sprung yet, but it’s starting to spring. Get ready to listen to the rush of a spring breeze through the fresh foliage and the smell of new cut grass filling the air.

Roll down the car windows and jam some Phil Collins today. Make sure you’re at a stoplight for any drum solos.

March 24th, 2025

 I woke up to a loud crash in the kitchen just after three o’clock this morning. It was my wok that hangs from a hook over my sink. It was laying in the middle of the kitchen floor just waiting for me to place it back on the hook.

I don’t believe in ghosts, but I do believe in spirits…

… and one of the spirits that energizes around my soul had something to say this morning.

I’m going to be searching for the mystery behind the fallen wok for the rest of the day.

First things first…

I want to talk about what woke me up Sunday morning. It was my favorite Leonard Cohen song and no it isn’t “Hallelujah.”

I go with his song, “Bird on the Wire.” Like many Cohen songs, his version is good, but some of the covers are even better. Each artists spilling their hearts into their own interpretation of the lyrics.

From Judy Collins and Willie Nelson, to Kris Kristofferson and Alan Neville. My favorite cover is by Johnny Cash.

Every essay I read about today’s quote centers around freedom. I never put any thought into Cohen struggling with freedom in his poetic words. I always heard a struggle to find balance in life and having a voice that can be heard.

The first half of life is a fight with awkwardness. The stages of adolescence into the beginning of adulthood is a battle of sorting out our very existence.

Finding that balance between sadness and happiness. Learning how to incorporate confidence in ourselves.

Sometimes a mentor or a coach can bring the balance of life out of us. The way life nurtures us determines if we can balance on a wire. It’s a fine line between success and failure. The winds of life are constantly trying to force us from our perch. Most often we fall to the ground. It is how we get back up that determines who we are.

It could have been worse! We could have gotten electrocuted…

We have all been the drunk in the choir. The time before we find the right voice to express who we are and what we are about. Some adults never find the right note to hit and are left with a battle.

The key to a successful adulthood and a peaceful life is finding our balance and finding our voice. That is what today’s quote and the poetic words of Leonard Cohen mean to me. That is what gives us freedom on this journey.

Balance and Voice….

Today is National Cocktail Day. It kind of sucks that it falls on a Monday and it is even worse for me. I’m only a third of the way into my sixty day sabbatical. If I were to have a cocktail tonight, it would be a manhattan or a martini. When I say martini, I use the mothership of booze for mine….. gin.

Time to use my voice and balance my big ass on the tightrope of life.

Go be astonished this week

March 23rd, 2025

 Now that I look at it, this quote is the wrong thing to chalk about today.

I don’t want to talk about deadlines or procrastination. I don’t want to talk about the fact that 1975 is fifty years ago or that we are already a quarter of the way into the new millennium.

1975 isn’t supposed to be fifty years ago. 1929 should be fifty years ago. The Great Depression should be fifty years ago, not the Nixon Administration.

It was just last week that I had to worry if my AOL account was going to shutdown because of the Y2K bullshit.

I am starting to realize all the shit that I didn’t get done throughout all the years, just doesn’t matter.

I can’t go back and do it now and if I ended up doing it wrong….

….maybe I ended up doing it right after all.

I’ve been alive for 21,450 days and if I play my cards right, I have 9,555 days left.

The Latin phrase of the day that should go with today’s theme is probably “Carpe diem.”

I went with “Audentes fortuna iuvat” instead. Which means “Fortune favors the bold.” I’ve met many bold people that risked it all and pushed the boundaries. Some were successful and some ended up ashamed and unhappy.

Who knows?

What are you going to do?

My weather guy tells me it will be overcast with a chance of rain this afternoon. I think a better Latin phrase for today is, “Vigilia cacas facere supellectilem.” Which means, “watch shit do stuff.”

No deadlines today and it’s alright to procrastinate cleaning the bathroom. Go somewhere and watch shit do stuff. You can do that from your couch or you can do it on a Lake Michigan beach. You can do it on a park bench or you can do it in your backyard.

Take a moment for yourself and watch shit do stuff today. Don’t think about deadlines or all the crap stacking up on the “To Do” list.

Do you want to seize the moment? Seize it by watching shit do stuff today!

“Vigilia cacas facere supellectilem.”

March 22nd, 2025

I was a kid during the greatest era in boxing history. The 1970’s had the richest and deepest talent in the ring.

Part of my childhood melted away this morning when I awoke to the news of George Foreman passing away.

I can still picture the pizza my dad ordered for the “Thrilla in Manilla.” It had green peppers and onions along with our regular sausage topping.

I never had a pizza with such a combination, but it was a school night and I had permission to stay up for the fight. So I sucked it up and ate this new fangled pizza.

I watched most of those fights in front of the Zenith with my Oldman. It was on those occasions that my dad would order pizza and let me drink pop in the living room.

My dad was a Joe Frazier guy and always called Muhammad Ali by his birth name, “Cassius Clay.” It wasn’t until after Ali lost to Larry Holmes when I finally heard my dad call him by his new name.

I was a George Foreman fan well before he kicked the living shit out of Joe Frazier. Howard Cosell was shouting “Down goes Frazier….,” I was jumping up and down in the living room and my Oldman was taking the pizza box into the kitchen telling me to turn off the television and go to bed.

I never had another favorite boxer after George Foreman. I never liked Ali, didn’t care for Leon Spinks or Larry Holmes.

The death of George Foreman hijacked today’s Morning Chalkboard. I was going to talk about Kurt Vonnegut and his quote that I chalked. I was going to talk about a concentration camp. I had some good things to tie together about both subjects.

At some point today, I’ll be on YouTube watching old fights from my youth.

God Speed Mr. Foreman. Thanks for those special moments that I shared with my Oldman.

Go take your shorter shadow for a walk today….

March 21st, 2025

         It is N C two A tournament time, so it is fitting that I chalked a quote from Robert Montgomery Knight.

How does a fifty-eight year old divorced dad prepare to win?

I’m not on a sports team. I don’t compete in anything athletic whatsoever.

What do I have to prepare to win at?

Remember those memes about ten years ago centered around Charlie Sheen?

“W I N N I N G…. Winning!”

Winning starts when my feet hit the bedroom floor every morning. First thing that I do is say hello to my parents and their eternal landlord. Then I look down and tell the devil that I plan on doing everything possible to make his day suck.

Probably not a good idea to antagonize satan first thing in the morning. I romanticize it by comparing it with Dick Butkus eyeballing the opposing team just before the snap.

I want the devil to know I’m blitzing his evil ass all day long.

W I N N I N G……..

I don’t think the coaching staff up in heaven are too fond of me mother fucking the opposition, but as long as I’m producing glorious victories for the good guys…..

….they let it slide!

Preparing to win for me at this juncture in life is all about leading by example. Making sure my kids see me doing gooder stuff more than stupider stuff. Taking care of the four or five people on this planet that think I’m special and finishing up the day satisfied with the victory.

If I can be a dad like Walter Payton ran the football…. W I N N I N G. If I tackle the daily bullshit that life brings like Dick Butkus destroyed Detroit Lion running backs…. W I N N I N G. If I prepare everyday like Coach Knight prepared his team for the Kentucky game…. W I N N I N G…

That is how a fifty-eight year old divorced dad living next to the river prepares to win.

First weekend of spring is on the doorstep. College basketball saturates the schedule as bubbles get busted and Cinderella’s go dancing.

Always be prepared to win

(and yes, I know gooder ain't a word)

March 20th, 2025

 I tend to bullshit myself when I’m stopped at a red light or a train crossing. To ease my impatience, I tell myself that God is slowing me down from danger ahead.

The delay is keeping me out of an intersection up the road that an assclown could smash into me at. This train has kept me from hitting a deer crossing the road. By the time I drive through the forest preserve, that deer will be gone. Thanks to this fucking freight train.

Now when it’s really all said and done…

God doesn’t control the stop lights and he doesn’t plot the Union Pacific’s rail schedule. Just like he doesn’t create devastating weather conditions and stock market crashes.

I’m a firm believer that everything that happens to us is set in stone already. Is it God’s will?

Maybe, but I doubt it.

God has more important things than your flooded basement or your stock portfolio.

We’ve all seen the bumper sticker and we’ve all experienced it at one time or another….

…shit happens

Some people can handle it and some cannot.

Most of the stupid shit that happens to us is because of our dumb decisions. I’ve got a PHD in Dumbfuckingness.

Most of the good things happen to us because of dumb luck or being at the right place at the right time.

…and when it’s all said and done.

You put yourself in that position, not God. The only involvement God has is through your faith.

It is your faith in God that has given you faith in yourself.

Faith brings us the good and gets us through the bad.

So, as you reread today’s quote…

The God directing and protecting us mumble jumble is all about faith…

….it was the late George Michael that told us, “Because I've got to have faith

Faith

Faith

I've got to have faith

Faith

Faith!”

And he ended up dying on Christmas, so it’s gotta be true.

Today is the first day of spring. We made it through another winter. Go make it a great Thursday. Fill today with faith in yourself.

March 19th, 2025

 Are you up to the challenge?

That was the first thing that came to mind when I chalked down today’s quote by T. S. Eliot.

The majority of Chalkheads are Generation X mixed in with some Boomers and some Millennials.

By now we should have realized what our potential is. We have reached our growth and have taken the leaps at this point.

That doesn’t mean we should stop taking chances.

Don’t get stuck in a comfort zone just because the nest is empty or your career has reached its pinnacle.

The time is just right

Is there something you’ve wanted to do that you’ve been putting off?

The time is just right

It is as easy as getting up early and watching the sunrise.

Here is another T.S. Eliot quote, “Not with a bang but a whimper.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m leaving a remarkable mess when I’m done here.

Not a mess that needs to be cleaned up, but one that leaves a positive impact and not something marked with grief.

I want shits and giggles and not cries and sighs at my funeral.

I don’t need to travel to Tibet to feel accomplished. I can go sit on a park bench overlooking the DesPlaines river and figure out the meaning of life.

Go push the boundaries and see how far you can go today. You’ll feel astonished when you do.

It started for me when I looked out the window and saw the moon. I haven’t even gotten close to what the sun will bring today.

Go put the smile on your sun today

March 18th, 2025

 I received a text message from a high school classmate just before I fell asleep last night.

She asked me to pray for another classmate that is having surgery this morning. Our friend has had some medical issues for some time now and the procedure should hopefully improve her quality of life. Prayers are especially warranted because the surgery involves the brain.

Suzanne, you are in our prayers this morning and will be until further review.

I’m going to put the chalk down now, but before I do…

… growing older and getting closer to the day when I go to heaven has opened my heart to the power of prayer.

I’m not sure how successful my daily conference call with the big guy is, but I’m going to keep placing the call.

Put the corn beef and cabbage away and get ready for some lasagna. We go from the green of the Irish to the red for the Italians this week. From green beer to red wine…..

All of this right before the official beginning of spring, March Madness and opening day.

Go be astonished

March 17th, 2025

 The drastic mood change in the weather over the weekend was a good reminder of how lucky I am being single.

Just kidding honey…

I’m always wiped out on these Monday’s after a weekend when all of the kids are home with me. It’s getting close to eight years and I still get sad when they leave on Sunday night.

Usually I’m up early with anxiety on Monday morning, but I slept right to the alarm today. Sleeping like a champion without the Sunday evening cocktail running its course.

I did have a couple beers this weekend. I gotta tell you Chalkheads that the non-alcohol beers have really stepped up their game recently.

Remember when you wanted to give up beer for lent and the only choice was O’Douls?

Those days are behind us my friends. Guinness puts out a lovely non-alcoholic stout. I also found a golden ale called “Upside Dawn” by Athletic that hits the spot.

I threw a couple of these beers in the cooler for tailgating before the Hounds game. Sprites for Hazel, Barqs for Fritz and a couple Upside Dawns for dad.

Forty-five calories, no fat and zero hangover. This might be a career changer.

I’m not nineteen year old Shep sneaking Old Styles down in the Oldman’s basement anymore. Now I can drink a beer when I’m making breakfast for the Shepkids and not feel like I have to go to confession.

Time to get this work week moving. We are in the back half of March already. It was fitting that it snowed yesterday. Perfect day to watch “The Quiet Man” with Hazel.

I told her that this is the movie that solidified my love for redheads and guaranteed that someday I’d have a redhead daughter.

She rolled her eyes and gave me a “whatever.”

Who wouldn’t want to live in a cute Irish cottage with Maureen O’Hara?

Go make the world Irish today you Chalkheads!

Lá Fhéile Pádraig sona duit!

March 16th, 2025

 How many of you Chalkheads are experiencing a shitshow right now? I know many of you are because I have your names on my morning conference call to heaven.

It’s okay.

Everybody we know, everybody we love, everybody we pass on the boulevard has some kind of crap mucking up their day.

Think about today's quote.

Our current downtrend is a caterpillar stage in life. We are crawling through the dirt praying that a bird doesn’t swoop down and devour our sad ass.

This is a period when we feel ugly. We feel mundane and we are searching for a change in life that can pull us out of our shitshow.

We need a break to build a cocoon that can give us the security to rest and reincarnate ourselves.

The outcome, on the other hand will be the time to float like a butterfly. Life will be beautiful; life will have a new meaning. Life will be less of a shitshow and a little brighter and more copacetic.

Unfortunately, we must endure the bad days to relish the good ones. We must struggle through the challenges and hurdles thrown onto the calendar.

It’s kind of a crapshoot to trust that life's journey will bring us an easier path forward. There is no promise that we will become the butterfly in this metaphor.

That’s enough of the sappy Sunday sermon that took up too much chalk.

Just remember, we are all caterpillars longing to become butterflies.

What a difference a day makes. Saturday was a spring-like day and Sunday will feel autumnal maybe even winterish.

Here comes the backend of March. Let the madness begin.