I kind of envy Oprah. She has a long list of things she knows for sure - she’s even written a book by the same title. Oprah’s a little older than me, but she seems to have known things for sure for years, so I don’t think I’m likely to suddenly morph into someone who knows much of anything for sure.

I should qualify the statement that I don’t know anything for sure - I know for sure I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) commit cold-blooded murder. I know I’m never going to dance for the New York City Ballet, and I’m pretty sure I’ll never be on the cover of Vogue (but I guess I won’t rule out the AARP Magazine…)

But other overarching questions about life - What’s my purpose? Why am I here? (and not in the mental decline way, just general big-life quesitons). What should I make for dinner? - I have no sure answer for those.

What I might have known for sure in the past has, well, passed. I was sure we’d own our horse farm in Connecticut forever, and planned on being buried in the muck heap when the time came (just kidding on that part). But we made the gut-wrenching decision to sell the farm after accepting that we weren’t going to make it financially and it was time to pull the plug. I have to say that, as much as it hurt to leave our farm, none of us miss the winter weather, and, at age 65, I’m not sure I want to muck out 20 stalls a day before lunch.

When we moved to Virginia after selling our farm, I was sure we were buying an amazing old house to renovate. It was a big house with parts dating back to before the Civil War, there was ample room to split off an apartment and there was a guest house on the property - renting the two of those would have paid for our mortgage. There was even a somewhat dilapated greenhouse on the grounds. I had already planned the gardens, mentally decorated the rooms. We were going to do great things with this house. We signed a contract, finalized the sale of our farm, shipped our horses to Virginia… and the sellers pulled the place off the market.

To say we were caught off guard is an understatement. The horses were all set, but we literally had no where to live - and I was pretty sure Extended Stay America wouldn’t welcome 2 dogs, 6 cats, and a rabbit…

It all worked out in the end, eventually - but if you can have a contract on a house and then suddenly have the deal terminated, I don’t know what’s for sure.

So, going forward, what do I know for sure? Absolutely nothing (other than they NYC Ballet and cold-blooded murder things), and I kind of like it that way.

Life should be filled with wonder and hope and anticipation and a sense of embracing whatever comes our way. Knowing things for sure can be a type of prison - a comfort zone from which we’re unlikely to stray - unless life has other plans for us - and doesn’t it always?

Well, to be honest, I don’t know for sure