MAGIC BEANS...

This is what my son has called my "magic beans" page. He's written a song called "Magic Beans" about all the fairy tales we believed to be true as we grew up--and we get to mid-life and discover:

Well nothin' ever sprouted
From the spot where momma threw them on the ground.
No singing harps, no golden eggs,
No giant's feasts could ever be found.
Now the banks foreclosed the farm,
Momma's sick, and Jack ain't ever around.

....Magic Beans don't sprout...

So, perhaps this IS my protest of what I expected out of life at one time. It WAS the model presented to me of "a good life". These "magic beans" haven't sprouted for me, but what I have instead is EVER SO MUCH MORE!