I’ve been fretting and fumbling around with a situation with seemingly no easy solution.

Last night a solution appeared in the form of a dream. My dream was about Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz and she was clicking on her ruby slippers three times.

I attended the wedding of a dear friend last Sunday on the beach in a state park in New Haven. The reception was held in the other half of a building that housed an old-fashioned carousel. From time to time, the small children would be given rides. Then, at the end of the reception, as a sort of punctuation mark, the bridge and groom climbed on board and waved to us grown-ups to follow.