When spinning many plates... one is sure to fall

At the county fair, I remember seeing a man spinning five plates each balanced on a stick.  He worked and worked giving each a revolution or two, always in time to keep them upright and balanced.  It was a marvel.  Even though he looked out at the crown and smiled, he always knew which plate was on the verge of falling, and just how much of a spin to give it.  I consider myself a plate spinner.  My plates are my husband, my family, my job, my creative output and my sense of self.  Five plates, all spinning at once.  Each needing constant observation and tweaking. Unlike the man at the fair, almost always one of my plates hits the floor.

So this is the beginning of my chronicle.  The musings of an imperfect life juggler, and how I hope to pick up the pieces of the things I let slip.