Do you remember how you got your ass out of bed this morning?

Most of us don't. Why would we?  

It's new year's eve.  Traditionally, symphonies perform Beethoven's Ninth Symphony Ode to Joy to welcome in the new year.  The subscribers email from the Seattle Symphony reminded me it's the "last chance in 2014 to see this performance live!"  The email reminded how I got my ass out of bed every morning for two straight months, after Eric died.  

Most things have become a blur, but some remain starkly clear.  Like the millions of stars in a moonless, cloudless night.  Perhaps in Montana.  Every morning, I blasted Ode to Joy.  It shook the walls.  My poor neighbors.  It worked like heroin being shot in the blood stream, I think.  When the chorus sang, I looked for that one small gleam of sunlight in the distance - that would be my sign.  I command myself, "get your fucking ass up."  

I didn't crawl out of bed.  I got up.  With my head high, back straight.  Tears would run down my face, but I stood up.  

I must not ever forget how to be courageous.  I have my mother to thank: she is the epitome of titanium backbone.  Lucky for me, I simply have the best example to emulate.

Every morning, for nearly two straight months.  That was how I got my ass out of bed:  Beethoven.

The Beethoven mornings are long gone.  I rarely think about them, but when I do, I shed tears of gratitude and commend myself with intention, "you have out done yourself, Daisy."  I reserve that comment for my proudest efforts, such as baking the most magnificent loaf of golden brown cinnamon raisin challah, or the tender mixed-berry pie.  

Or, about my retirement. 

I have ten more work days left with Starbucks before I look at corporate America in the rear view mirror.  It's time to be useful elsewhere now, I said.  Truth is, I don't know exactly where or precisely how I will be useful, but I think it is plenty smart to leave room for the unknown.  

I surmise I will miss nothing about the office, but I will think about everything in the office.  Is it ironic?  

I'm not certain how I will create my 2015, and I'm completely at peace with it. Luckily, I am pretty sure who I'm kissing to ring in the new year!  Lucky dog!!