Flashback to the fashion-challenged 90’s (though not nearly as terrifying as the neon splattered 80’s) and you’d find me charging through the high school years on stage or writing original plays with oh-so-inspiring titles such as “A Time to Speak.” Seldom did I believe there was a time NOT to speak - and I was happy to share my opinions with any and all who would listen (or were forced to, by mere proximity). I was a dreamer riddled with pragmatism, which landed me in college as a pre-law major/theater minor. Perhaps it was not such a surprise then, that I eventually ended up in Manhattan as a publicist. After a few fascinating and sometimes-surreal years in NY and Boston, I met my leading man who lived in a far away land called Pennsylvania - and it is there I landed, after a lifetime of knowing I would end up this way (or hoped, prayed!)... a mother to boys and a wife to a good man who I love, but even more importantly, like. I may still feel it’s a time to speak, but I’m often drowned out by the sound of my two little boys racing in circles around the house shouting ‘you can’t catch me!’, my 15 year old step son telling me about his great play in baseball, my husband asking if I’ve seen his wallet/keys/shoes/younameit. And pretty soon, another little voice will be join the cacophony (and at 2/4/6 AM) when in April - a fourth, yes boy, will join the party. So, I’m Heather: a mommy/step-mom/sister/daughter/(opinionated) wife /step-daughter/reluctant maid/small-business owner/(thus) wine connoisseur/swing-dance-lover/ speed-reader/lackluster floor-cleaner/google-how-to-boil-an-egger/candle addict. Anyone relate? I would be a fool not to be thankful for this great good life God has given me. And, sometimes, I am that fool. (But I DID stop wearing neon.) *Hopefully unnecessary disclaimer: purple/gold outfit pictured above is a costume in a high-school production of Cinderella. Have a little faith.