What the heck is the point anyway? It’s thoroughly disturbing how often I catch myself asking for more purpose, for more meaning. Like it’s not enough to be alive and breathing. Thursdays used to be my favorite day of the week. When my elder two girls were little, their father and I would both take the day off from work, drop the girls at daycare, and head to Kentucky Kingdom. There were no lines in the middle of a weekday, and we would literally run from the roller-coaster exit to entrance to jump back on the next ride. You couldn’t get me near a roller-coaster when I was little, but as I got older, I began to look forward to the rapid drops, sharp turns, even the spiraling upside-down, okay, especially the spiraling upside-down. Maybe the roller-coaster metaphor doesn’t work for you, but something does: a dance, a game, a theatrical presentation. However you frame it, life is meant to be enjoyed, sharp turns and all.