In the last 24 hours I've had two moments of extra clarity. As I was jogging through downtown this morning past newly-empty store fronts and leasing signs in the place of once-robust businesses, I remembered a conversation I had last night with my husband. I was cataloguing with him the string of crises we've had recently and it was then that I had my first moment. I had to put the majority of our ulcer-fostering experiences from the last 5 years under the heading of owning our own business. It was sort of a relief to realize that we have not been in a mystical Job scenario but one of our own making. Running a small company, like all good endeavors (parenting for example) is both exhilarating and terrifying. We are taking a risk—many risks and our mission demands more skill and creativity than we have some days. But every time we joke about applying for a job at Google (for the free juice and gourmet sandwiches they feed their employees) we remember how much time we get to spend with our daughters and how much we enjoy working together. And, of course, working for ourselves. In spite of the anxiety and exhaustion, we are extremely lucky.

Which brings me to the second moment I had while jogging. My mind wandered from local store owners to Meg Ryan's character Kathleen Kelly in You've Got Mail. She inherited a Manhattan children's bookstore from her late mother. And when a Borders-esque mega book chain puts her out of business, she grieves for a few weeks and then falls in love. What kind of a trade is that? A gratifying, life-defining, entrepreneurial pursuit (not to mention the pleasure of introducing The Very Hungry Caterpillar to 3 year olds) for Tom Hanks? For the moment I'm ignoring the impulse to start evaluating other movies I own. Yes, I own it. I am a sucker for romance movies, including the bad ones. And I grew up in a culture where feminism was a bad word. But now I am a feminist. Except for (here's the moral of the story) when I'm watching New-York-in-the-fall-with-latte-sipping-nice-guy flicks. I don't intend to give up romance films but all the artificially-induced endorphins I get watching this one can't masque the truth that Kathleen Kelly got robbed.

Recently a dear friend told me that women in their 60's are invisible. She was speaking firsthand and her observation has haunted me ever since. Who wants to be invisible? Although, the model-thin, spandex-and-i-pod senior with the cherry-colored bob that frequents my Starbucks makes me think invisible isn't the worst thing.

I know my friend was not talking about the small country of family and friends who think she's a goddess. She was talking about parties where twenty-five year olds look right past her. But then, twenty-five year olds (speaking from not-too-distant firsthand) are only slightly less insecure than thirteen year olds. They are in heat and must limit their attention to chums and potential conquests.

So I believe my friend is wrong—most of the time. Because she's so smart and lovely that she glows in the dark. How could anyone miss her? But in moments of doubt I do worry that every new wrinkle makes me disappear a little more. And I know I'm not alone because I see women at Target with as much collagen cream and super-coverage foundation in their carts as I have in mine. So in those times of doubt my solution is to recite two cosmic and soothing words, "Judi Dench, Judi Dench, Judi Dench". She's beautiful, intriguing, smart and (do I even need to say it?) bad ass. And she's old. Is there anyone who doesn't think she's fantastic? And if twenty-five year old party goers don't see her, it looks pretty bad for them.

I know a guy who feels strongly that la, la, las and na, na, nas are a sign of lyrical laziness. But I disagree.  What kind of song would The Boxer be without the lai, lai, lai-s right? I contend that some songs are stronger for their da-de-dums. A place for simply feeling the song without sorting through lyrics. Of course you have to have some decent lyrics too. Weak lyrics and a patch of yeah, yeah, yeah is like eating at Olive Garden (is that a basket of hot dog buns?).

I see a lot of new websites and the first blog posts that come with them. They're very similar. "I'm turning over a new leaf. I will be writing about it. Please visit often." This is pretty much the same thing. I have had a music website for 4 years and for most of that time, the links have been broken and the music samples didn't work. Which is extra embarrassing when you've invested the last five years of your life in a web development company. Of course I have also spent the last five years changing states, changing continents and changing diapers. So welcome to the new site (thank you gutensite.com). I believe I will be scraping together enough time to post new songs on occasion so please visit often.