On Friday, the doctor told me that what I have is viral and that I just need to ride it out, probably a few more days. Well, it’s Monday, and I’m still not well. I truly hate this, whatever it is. On the flip side, the nurse who took my stats told me that I logged the best blood pressure all day: 98/62. I appreciated what Dave would call an “I win” moment. Damn right I win. In this pitiful state, I will grasp onto every last victory that I can. Continue reading

Enough Already.

I’ve had to admit to myself over the last couple of days that I can’t do it all. Right now, I’m working, training, writing, and putting lots of energy into my relationships. I’d like to also be doing board work and trail running and guitar lessons and Story Departments and more, but I’m calling my own bluff. I’m crying uncle. I’m scaling back, at least until I get through my big race and maybe until after Dave gets hereContinue reading


I never feel less like myself than when I put on a suit and go to court. That was my realization today as I walked awkwardly in my too-tall heels from my office to the courthouse just five blocks away. I wondered, “Do I look as awkward as I feel? Are people who see me thinking to themselves, ‘Is she limping?'” At first, I was deeply saddened by the realization that my profession is one for which I am poorly suited. But then it occurred to me that I am incredibly lucky to have found a way to work as a lawyer, do good work, and keep my sanity, at least most of the time. Continue reading

Cry Me A River.

This weekend, my dear friend and I indulged in two movies – Her and August: Osage County, both of which made me grateful for this month of focus that I’ve set out for myself. My plan has been to step away from the computer and be more engaged with writing, my partner, my family, and my friends. I don’t want to live in a world where I’m more emotionally invested in technology than people, and I don’t want a life of estrangement from family. I felt like those films functioned as a cosmic affirmation of my plans for the month.

Then I heard from my mother late yesterday afternoon that Philip Seymour Hoffman died. What? How? Of a drug overdose? At 46?  Continue reading

Wednesday List #12 – Things I Don’t Understand

I should warn you. I’m in a funk. This list will reflect that.

  1. I don’t understand people who “friend” you on Facebook because you are in a relationship with someone they know or because they are the spouse of a dear old friend of yours and then “unfriend” you because you breakup or they divorce. You either are my friend or you are not. If you think the friendship depends on the existence of a relationship other than the one between you and me, then you are not.
  2. I don’t understand people who come into a conversation with their minds already made up. If you are not here to listen and actually consider what I have to say, please don’t waste my time. I don’t think better of you for having sat down with me. I think you think a lot of yourself.
  3. I don’t understand people who make you feel guilty about being busy and not having seen them in a while. Calling me “stranger” or telling me I’ve got too much going on does not make me thankful that I chose to use my time to call or meet with you. If you are not the kind of friend who can pick up where we left off with no guilt-oriented commentary, I don’t want your friendship.
  4. I don’t understand people who lap swim but are unwilling to share a lane. Seriously? Did you just say no when I asked to split the lane with you? Are you just such a poor swimmer that you can’t keep yourself on one side of the lane? Or are you so entitled that you think sharing a lane is beneath you somehow? By the way, you don’t help anything by the excessive amount of time you spend standing at the wall talking to your friend in the next lane who is also unwilling to share a lane. Swim your damn laps or get out of the pool.
  5. I don’t understand people who inject themselves into your space in a locker room and proceed to spread their clothes, towels and toiletries all over the place. If you walk into a locker room and see that I’m using a locker and a bench on one side, please don’t take the locker right next to me and take over my space. Pick a locker on the other side of the room.  You know, that big empty space full of lockers with not a single person in sight? Go there. 

Bleh. All of this just feels crummy. And of course some of it is completely unimportant, but I lose my patience when my heart is affected, and right now, my heart is affected.

Thanks for hearing me out.

Pissed off.

I scrambled.  All day long I scrambled with the goal of getting to a 6:30 p.m. yoga class – the last offering of the day.  And after a day of frustrating phone calls and greater than normal frenzy, I hurried out the door at 6:08, wanting, wishing, desperately seeking a yoga class to work out my stress and get my head straight.  I knew I’d have to come back to the office, but the 90 minutes of sweat and exertion would me good.

What happened next?

The parking lot to the studio was full. Every single level. And the neighborhood streets all around my little downtown studio were packed. I wish I’d had the nerve to park in a damned handicap spot, but I’m not that girl, so I drove back to the office. Unexercised and pissed off, I drove back to the office.

I don’t recall ever having hated my car so much. All I needed was some place to put the damn thing so I could get into my studio and decompress. That’s all I wanted.  A yoga class at the end of my day.  I didn’t want a drink or a date. I didn’t need a parade or even a pat on the back. I just wanted 90 minutes in a hot room with my towel and mat.

I’d curse the happy hour goers at the neighboring bar who most certainly took my spot.  I’d curse the yogis who arrived early or lived closed enough to walk or ride bikes to my studio. I’d curse the contractor for not building more parking or the studio for launching the 60 day challenge that packs my studio at the start of each year.  I’d curse Ben Affleck for writing and directing “The Town,” the movie that kept me up far too late last night and made me sleep in this morning – through the 5:45 a.m. class.  But at the end of the day, I have only myself to blame.

I slept in. I chose to work rather than make a morning, lunchtime or afternoon class.  I pushed the day until the last possible minute that I could leave and make it to the last class.  I did this.  And that is precisely why I am fuming in this moment.

The idiot/bastard/object of my wrath in this story is me. Dammit.

I hate that.