A text I received the other day: "Thanks again for hangin with me.
Good to see you. You wear your new groove quite well. Looks good on
you."

Today I was at work, but not working. There's something to be said for
a free hour-and-a-half Thai massage. The massage therapist told me to
take a hot bath tonight when we were done. I one-upped her and went
straight to the hot tub at the spa and sat for a while with the
mountains as my backdrop, stretched my arm (wrist is healing quite
well), and thought about life. Later as I was leaving, Andrey, the big
Russian massage therapist that all the sadists request, said, "your
face looks different."

"I'm happy," I replied. (I'm also not eating sugar, working out a
little, getting some sun, learning a lot about myself, and looking at
life from a new perspective. I *am* different. I have a new groove.)

"Why are you happy?" he asked.

"I just am," I smiled. (I really just am, just because.)

And even though smiling with no make-up really shows my age (it's ok, because that's how old I am), here's a picture to prove it.