There’s a small sign on my kitchen wall, located where I can’t avoid seeing it when I stumble in for my morning coffee. Picked up from some curious place in Rehoboth Beach, it reads, “Another day in paradise.”
Of course, the phrase could be taken in a cynical way, like it was when chosen as the title of an indie movie a few years back that was about anything but. Usually, when they see it on my wall, people laugh in that kind of a wry way.
But not me. In my morning fog, or at night when I come home fretting from the day’s worries or anguishing over negative comments by a detractor (not!), gazing at it for just an instant almost immediately shapes me up.
