2006, I'm looking forward to you!

For the past few days, I have been mulling over my thoughts concerning the impending new year and the one soon to be behind me. Then I read Joshua Newman's post which sums up my ambitions for the coming year so well, and knew I had to post it here:

And, looking back on 2005, looking back over the last few years, I see that same approach borne out through nearly all of my life. In work and play, love and friendship, I've drank direct from the fire hose. I've made mistakes, of such number and magnitude that I can no longer keep track. And I've learned far more in the process than someone of 26 years has any right.

So, to those I've hurt, offended or wronged, my sincere apologies. I think, at least, that I can promise I won't do it again in the same way, that I won't make the same mistakes twice. But, at the same time, I'll be spending 2006 swimming into deeper waters still. Preemptive apologies for the whole new collection of mistakes I'll doubtless find my way to pioneer throughout this coming year.

Sure, jumping in head-first isn't the easiest way to do things, but it's the best I've found so far. Time to take another year's worth of leaps.

The "plunging in" Joshua writes about is how I used to live, until I began to live in a straitjacketed manner for reasons I do not fully understand.

But something shook loose in me during my recent trip to Paris, subtly but surely so. I am not sure why or exactly when this occurred, but I know that I returned to Texas as a changed person, with the self-imposed barriers to growth swept away as if by magic. I feel reconnected with some quality deep within myself. Once again, I feel like the exploring, curious, optimistic and fearless person I once was. I commit this year to appreciate and enjoy all that is good about today while actively working to make tomorrow the experience I want it to be. I also commit to do a better job of showing my family and friends how much I cherish them . . . this year, I will turn my attention outward. I am really looking forward to this year, and I hope you are as well.

Another new Paris post . . . this one about a charming neighborhood and its churches on Christmas Eve

Here are some photos to whet your appetite:





You can read all about it here!

First Paris Post

Just a quick note to say that I have begun writing about my Christmas trip to Paris--you can read about it here if you like!

I'm back!

Whew, what a long flight. Have downloaded all 700+ photos (did I mention that I am a menace with a digital camera?), but could not write to do them justice yet, so I'll leave you with just this one to whet your appetite:



Also, I have been catching up on my internet addiction--denied almost totally for the last 5 days. This item, regarding an Improv group providing a men's room attendant in the Times Square McDonald's in New York City, is one of the funniest things I have seen in a while. (via Kottke)

Bonjour from Paris

I am writing from an internet café just a stone's throw from the Sorbonne. I did not plan to post from here, but found myself feeling a bit out of sorts this afternoon ... not upset, merely aimless ... and thought it might help to write.

I have seen some beautiful things and taken some beautiful photos and even met some nice people. Le Grande Colbèrt, a restaurant you may recall from the movie Something's Gotta Give, is truly wonderful. I will remember its maitre d' and doorman against the background of the red velvet drapes that frame the entrance, forever. One of my favorite experiences thus far was photographing people in the Luxembourg Gardens. Best meal so far: crèpes, at a charming café.

I will now plunge back into the wonderful world of Paris ... looking forward to the opéra tonight and planning to forge through my mysterious feeling of indecisiveness. Anne Lamott's book titled, Bird By Bird, is wonderful ... about a million people have recommended it to me, and I am glad to have it to read here during restful moments. My French is halting but serviceable ... it seems to come most rapidly when I am drinking wine.

To Kill a Mockingbird

Tonight I found myself needing a reminder of all that is good and pure and true about the law and people who practice law. I pulled out my tape of "To Kill a Mockingbird" and found that I almost instantly felt my soul being cleansed.



In other news, at some point tonight I noticed my dog isn't wearing a collar. I am pretty sure he was wearing one when I arrived home, and this disappearance seems most mysterious. I'm too tired to search for it now; it will have to wait for the morning.

I am off to Paris tomorrow . . . I expect my day will be filled with errands and packing and quality time with the dogs before my departure. I am really excited about the trip, though I'm just a bit sorry I will not witness unusual and strikingly beautiful scenes like this:



(Via the always amazing Joe's NYC)

Anyway, I probably will not have a chance to post tomorrow, so I'll say this now:

Faithful readers, I wish you all a Joyeux Noel!

Park Cities People = Nazi People?

In the center of Dallas is a little enclave, two cities of their own called "Highland Park" and "University Park." They seem to be happy governing themselves and their fabulous school system, supported by the property taxes of the wealthiest subset of Dallas County residents, keeps property values high. (Lots alone--without a house--go for around $400,000, I believe.)

Anyway, these Park Cities have their own little newspaper, the "Park Cities People," which is a daily rag published by Reid Slaughter. It is not available online, so far as I can tell. They sell this paper in stands around town, but I would never pay for it due to, among other things, the reasons described below. However, it can be found for free in my office building and I sometimes am amused by reading it over lunch, though more often I am spurred by it to act more urgently with respect to my plan to move far, far away from this place.

Today's issue of the Park Cities People includes the following two items of interest, among others:

• a column by Mike Reagan, who apparently lacks the humanity of his deceased father, writing of his agreement with the warm holiday sentiment that anyone who does not appreciate Bush's activities in Iraq should "go to hell." He writes this after noting that the "'hate-Bush brigade' will have to admit that President Bush knew what he was doing all along" in Iraq because "the people of a Muslim nation are acting like free citizens instead of as subjects of an autocratic regime" (no reference to how many of our folks and theirs died for the continuing privilege of dealing with suicide bombers on a near-daily basis)
• 
  
• the "Park Cities Police Log" describes a truly terrifying event from December 16th, in which "a man driving a dark colored van stopped in the 4200 block of Windsor and said something in Spanish to three kids. The three kids ran off." No word yet on whether he was simply asking for directions, or what the three kids were doing outside at 10 p.m., as noted in the story. Also, no word on whether similar incidents have occurred in which the words were spoken in English--gee, do you think there is racial profiling in the Park Cities?

Highland Park High School is the same place where red swastikas were found painted earlier this fall.

Sure you don't want to move here?

Favorite gift?

With the holiday season upon us, I have been thinking a bit about my favorite gift ever. To be honest, I cannot recall if this was a Christmas gift--I may have received it for my birthday. But the gift I remember most clearly and that I loved the most was my Nancy Drew Detective Kit.



I have searched and searched online and am unable to find a picture of this, but it was essentially a small detective kit, which included fingerprinting powder and brushes and other items that let a person be just as sleuthlike as Nancy Drew. I spent hours running around our house, yard and neighborhood working with this kit, dreaming of the day when I, too, would solve mysteries and make people's lives better in doing so.

Instead, I find myself defending employers in lawsuits brought by current or former employees, those who lie on their resume about flying fighter jets, who engage in consensual affairs then claim sexual harassment, who accuse a supervisor of discrimination when he finally reacts adversely to the employee's nitpicking that includes emailing their superior in another office that the supervisor has, once again, poured coffee in a plant. Here's hoping that in the new year, I will find myself sleuthing on the side of the Constitution and civil rights.

What is your favorite gift ever?

A slight change in plans.

As some of you may recall, I was planning to travel to New York City for Christmas. However, the impending transit strike in NYC loomed heavily over my plans, threatening to disrupt my visit completely and make it extremely difficult, if not impossible, to do the things I love to do in NYC (this includes hopping on subways at will).

Tonight I decided I didn't want to worry any more about what was supposed to be a fun trip. So, I cancelled my flight to NYC. Can you guess where I'm going instead, using a remarkably low number of frequent flyer miles?

Here's a clue:



(photo courtesy of Philip Greenspun's "A Photographer's Guide to Paris")

Funny stuff.

You don't have to be a Dallas Stars (NHL) fan to appreciate the cheeky humor of Darryl "Razor" Reaugh, the color announcer for the Stars. In his blog, Razor highlights the differences between his day on the road and that of his broadcast partner, the revered play by play analyst Ralph Strangis.
Check it out!

The Media?

Today I saw, "Good Night, and Good Luck," a movie about Edward R. Murrow's hand in taking down Senator Joe McCarthy. It was excellent. I loved the story, the black and white film, the acting (especially Murrow) and, of course, yet another chance to see George Clooney.

The movie also made me realize what a keen interest I have taken in journalism and media issues in recent years. So much so that I have considered going to journalism school and putting my interest in research, writing ability and understanding of legal issues to work in a totally different way. I needed to run to Borders Books after the movie to pick up a few things. Inspired by the movie, I searched for a book on Murrow and/or journalism. I struck out on both counts, as they had none.

Most surprising to me was that this part of a short shelf appeared to comprise their entire "Media" selection:



It was set in the midst of row after row of "entertainment" books about movies stars and movies. Apparently, books having to do with the Third Estate come in a distant second to books about entertainers. What's up with that?

Ahhhhhhhh!

That's how I feel after a fabulously productive Saturday! I have whiled away many a Saturday with DVDs of my favorite television series or movies. But not yesterday! Yesterday, I took a dog to the office (yes, that should be a new holiday), knocked out some work, had a long overdue massage (not at the office--a co-worker watched my dog while I did this), returned and did some more work, then returned home. But the productivity didn't stop there! At home, I ordered my New Year's cards (recognizing it's just too late to send Christmas cards), thought about and actually purchased and sent Christmas gifts to my Mom and brother and worked on my plans for NYC this weekend.

I impressed myself and am now about to seek a reward of reading the Sunday NY Times over coffee and a nice breakfast at my favorite local cafe.

And here's a lovely picture for you, courtesy of joe's nyc--he is an amazing photographer and you should check him out!

Negativity.

I'm conducting an experiment. I will make no more angst-filled posts for the last two weeks of the year. I want to know if thinking positively and refusing to dwell on the negative actually improves one's mood.

I know you'll miss the sad musings, but maybe these tidbits will help you through:

A safe bedside table, via Kottke, from the Safe: Design Takes on Risk exhibition at MOMA
A very interesting blogger sleuth, also via Kottke

Bowling

During my trip to Chicago last week (sadly, no one won my guessing contest), I happened to pass this bowling alley. My grandmother, who loved bowling with her co-workers and friends, took me here many times. I loved hanging out with her, trying to bowl just a little bit better than I had the last time and the ritual of everyone talking about the visit by "Cora's grandchildren." Just seeing this sign brought back some wonderful memories for me.

I think of my Grammie often at Christmas time, as she always made things special. She decorated her house to the nines, including a working small train and village at the foot of her Christmas tree. She cooked and baked, making the best pies and fudge ever. Most importantly, she hosted the entire family on my mother's side at her house (which, for good measure, truly was "over the river and through the woods") for a meal, gift exchange and overall fellowship that formed the foundation for the holiday.

At least part of the reason I have traveled the last few Christmases, but not gone home, is that it is hard for me to be there without her and the special something that she brought to the holidays. Next year, I will try to begin my own traditions that she would have loved . . . decorating and being diligent about gift-buying, etc. But this year, I will just go to New York City and enjoy the beauty created by others.

Regrets.

Thirteen years ago, I had fluffy hair left over from the 80's, was finishing up my first year of law school and smiled nearly all the time. I was head over heels in love with the guy who had become my best friend earlier that year. Our relationship was at once intense and light-hearted; we spent every spare moment together. I knew that, with him, I was totally and utterly loved for who I really am. Likewise, I knew and loved him with an utter lack of boundary that is impossible to describe with words. When he asked me to marry him a year later, I said no.

There were complex reasons for why I turned away. Simply put, I felt it was the noble thing to do under the circumstances. This did not make it easy; seeing him daily in all of the classes we had arranged to take together would have caused me to drop out of school, had my father not threatened to beat the crap out of him if that's what it took to prevent me from throwing away what I had accomplished thus far.

I'm not sure why I am writing about this tonight. I have never in the last 13 years regretted the decision that I made. But tonight I found myself remembering what we had with some tears of sadness instead of the warmth and pleasure that typically accompany my sporadic thoughts of him. There is really no point to this story, but I wanted to write it because whether sad or happy, it is one of the most beautiful facets in the prism that is my life.

What she wrote.

Who? Sarah. Read it. It's what I hope to be writing by this time next year.

If you were wondering why

I want to leave Dallas as soon as possible, this item from today's D Magazine FrontBurner goes a long way toward explaining it:

AN EXPENSIVE HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL GAME

Was the trip to Tyler worth it to watch HP trounce Marshall 59-0? The man to ask, I'm told by an alert FBvian, is oilman Bill Shuford. Shuford chartered the Mavs jet to fly 50 to 60 people to Tyler. There they were met by a fleet of stretch Hummers (driven from Dallas) that took them to the game. Atta boy, Bill.

Tim Rogers · December 12, 2005 01:15 PM

Yes, you read it right: the man chartered a jet to fly 50-60 people the vast 105-mile stretch between Dallas and Tyler, Texas. There these humanitarians were escorted to a stadium in stretch Hummers so they could watch the Texas state high school football championship game. Not that there are people in the world, or even Katrina hurricane victims in our own state, who could have used the money for something other than high school football.

This depresses me.

Meet May.

This is May:



She is the youngest daughter of two of my dearest friends, and she was born during the 2002 Winter Olympics. She is one of the funniest people I know. May is creative, too. Most kids who write their name on a wall just write it--like this: "May." But May is unique. She wrote her name in purple crayon spanning three walls, and in reverse, so it looked more like abstract art with a single initial on each of the aqua blue kitchen walls.

Why am I writing about May, you ask? This email from her Mom explains why:

"The CT scan does not show a normal brain.  Your daughter has Tuberous
Sclerosis which causes epilepsy, autism and mental retardation."

This was our introduction to Tuberous Sclerosis Complex (TSC) when in
June 2004 our then 2-year-old daughter, May, was diagnosed.  It sounded dire
and only got worse as we learned that TSC can cause benign tumor growth in
almost any organ, including the brain, heart, lungs and kidneys.

After the devastating initial news and the many tests that followed, we
discovered 2 wonderful things.  First, and most wonderful, is that
May's condition is relatively mild with "only" brain involvement and
epilepsy.  Her seizures are currently under good control with medication and she
has no developmental delays.

The second piece of wonderful information was that Texas Scottish Rite
Hospital for Children, right here in Dallas, has one of the few clinics
in the country specializing in TSC patient care and research.  Because
this rare disease can be so variable and can involve many different organs,
having a clinic that can comprehensively handle May's case is a true
blessing.

But it gets better!  Scottish Rite Hospital is 100% charity supported -
they don't even have a billing department.  We pay no co-pays, we deal with
no hassles over costs, we have no in- or out-of-network concerns.  The
burden this lifts from our shoulders is much more than financial:  May's
condition can be overwhelming enough without adding the management of medical
bills.  Scottish Rite is free to any child in Texas and specializes in
orthopedic issues (like club foot, arthritis and scoliosis) as well as learning
disabilities.

On December 11 I am running the Dallas White Rock Marathon, aka "The
Rock".  "The Rock" proceeds benefit Scottish Rite and I want to help.  Please
join me in this endeavor by sponsoring my run - did I mention it's 26.2
miles? Did I mention I've been training for months?  Months.  Long runs.
Aching knees...but enough about that.  If you click on the link below you will
go to my pledge page where you can make a donation directly to Scottish
Rite.  I'm calling the site MAY'S TEAM and I hope you will join.

I'll write again next week, confessing to my time and how I'm
recovering.  Feel free to forward this to anyone you think might be interested in
helping out.

Thank you very, very much,
Sandy
Here is the link you can click on to help May and others like her who rely on the excellent services of Scottish Rite Hospital.
Anything you can do will be received with gratitude!

UPDATE:  Sandy raised $2960 in support of Scottish Rite Hospital, nearly doubling her original fundraising goal,
which was $1500.  She and her family are very grateful for your support.  And she has bounced back to her
everyday energy level post-marathon, which she completed!  Thank you so much for your generosity.

Serendipity

I made a note below about a strange serendipitous event that occurred this morning. Those events continued throughout the day!

First, on my way to my business meeting, I encountered a cab driver who was the closest thing to a prophet I can imagine. She was a chatty African-American woman, and we immediately exchanged compliments, with her admiring my briefcase and me noting how refreshing it was to have a female cab driver. Before long, she was talking about how people who are not happy or find that their lives are not working for whatever reason need to look within themselves, not at external circumstances. I cannot remember for the life of me how she got onto that topic; I know only that I did not give her clues about how own angst. By the time I stepped from her cab into the brisk winter air, I had vowed to look within, viewing my own quirks and issues as a puzzle I need to solve and work around, rather than fatal flaws of which I am ashamed and that I ignore.

So at the end of the long day, I emerged into a world of swirling snow with nary a cab to be found. I tried for a bit to hail one, trudged on and waited for a while in a hotel's cab stand line until I realized there was no cab in my foreseeable future. I decisively whirled around and headed in the direction of my hotel, with the wind at times whipping snow in my face and the snow at times being piled so high that I could barely drag my bag through it (the bag was too heavy to pick up and carry and I was worried I would slip and fall under its weight). While walking through this wintry wonderland, I thought about whether I wanted the change I've been seeking badly enough to move to New York, where surely this situation could occur again. As I walked past a crowd of well-dressed people at the entrance to my hotel, with ice hanging from my hair, the lenses of my glasses completely obscured by water, hoping the snow wouldn't melt through the bag onto my laptop, I knew the answer to that question: Yes. Yes! YES!

After I dried out and warmed up and ate a little dinner, and the immediate effect of my adventure wore off, I ran across this on my beloved Overheard in New York web site:

Take a Moment to Love New York

Hobo: Stop! I don't want any money, I don't want anything. I just want you to look. You will never see this again in your life!

He points to a window sill where he has four quarters standing on their edges.

Hobo: Isn't that beautiful?

--Christopher & Bleecker

Overheard by: gizzard

I don't know how to explain my reaction to this, but it moved me and I think it is beautiful and I cannot wait to live in the city where this can happen.

It may seem that my first story above contradicts the others, but I don't think so. I am not looking to a move to New York to "fix" my level of happiness in my life. Rather, I want to live my life in sync with my progressive values and the other things I hold dear, which I can only do by listening closely to my heart and reconnecting with what kept me happy during the happiest time of my life--my 20's. While I know I could find some of those things in Dallas if I wanted to, I want to go to New York, where finding those things will come more easily.

The Dallas Morning News is SO impressive.

No front-page breaking stories on deaths in Iraq, or on in-depth investigations regarding Dallas' city council and other political messes, but we do have this story at the top of their web site (the virtual "front page"):

White House: Bush daughter not engaged

06:39 PM CST on Wednesday, December 7, 2005

Associated Press

WASHINGTON – First daughter Barbara Bush was wearing a ring on the third finger of her left hand Wednesday, but the White House said she is not engaged.

Susan Whitson, spokeswoman for the first lady, said the jewelry that the 24-year-old had on during a visit to Children's National Medical Center with her mother was not an engagement or wedding ring.

Whew! I am SO glad they put that rumor to rest--otherwise, how would I have concentrated on work today?

Where's Lisa?

I am in one of my favorite cities, staying in a room in one of my favorite hotels ever, from which I have a fabulous view. I am staying here due to a business trip but will squeeze in visits with people I know as well. As if that was not enough, the Cubs made a trade today that I think bodes well for their future. What more could a girl want?

First one to guess where I am gets to ask any question at all and receive an honest answer. Yes, I realize that isn't much of a prize, but I'm sadly in need of some comments and willing to do anything to try to generate one! :P

More later . . .

It's later, and here are a few other notes from the road:

My hotel room contains one of the most comprehensive selections of personal items and snacks for sale that I have ever seen. For instance, one offered item is this:



What is it, you ask?* It is an "Intimacy Kit" and contains "2 prophylactics, 1 package lubricating jelly, 2 obstetrical towlettes." A very practical offering, I think, with the added bonus of a high-faluting and amusing description of the contents.

On a wholly unrelated note, as I returned to my room with Starbucks coffee this morning (as my room contains an "Intimacy Kit" but no coffee maker), an older man got on the elevator and he was wearing cologne that reminded me a lot of that worn by my high school boyfriend. The scent brought back fond memories, but also made me wonder if this means I am getting old. Or perhaps it just means that everything comes back into fashion at some point. I prefer to think the latter.

Sometimes the synchronicity of things amazes me. I had selected the "local paper" option for morning delivery to my room, and was a tad disappointed to see that I had instead received the New York Times (which I love, but which does little to tell me about entertainment options in the city I am visiting). But what did I see was the front-page story on the NYT today? An article about the very organization for which I would like to work, and the man who leads it. Interesting reading, and I am so glad I didn't miss the article.

*You may be asking what this is due to the extremely low quality of the photo I posted. Sadly, in the mad rush to the airport that required me to hastily and severely cut down the contents of my bag to permit me to drag more work along, my beloved digital SLR camera did not make the cut. So I must make do with nothing but a cell phone camera. It occurred to me only later that I could have removed my camera from its bulky bag and cushioned it among my clothes. Drat.

UPDATE: If you look here, you will see some clues as to where I spent the latter part of my week.

Mortified.

Last night, I trekked to far north Dallas to attend a cocktail party hosted by one of my colleagues and his wife. In recent years, I have become somewhat shy about attending such functions, probably because I don't feel as confident regarding my appearance as I once did. So even though I very much like this colleague and his wife and was interested in meeting their friends and seeing where they live, it took every ounce of moral fiber in my body to resolve to go, prepare to go and push myself out the door to this event.

By the time I reached their neighborhood, I was grooving to an 80's music mix on the radio. One song in particular ("Boom, boom, let's go back to my room," a definitely underrated musical achievement of the 80's) warmed my heart, as it brought back fond memories of the time when my high school boyfriend and I won a dance contest at the lake where my Dad lived while whirling around to that tune and others. I began to feel more "partyish" and by the time I reached my colleague's neighborhood, I was happy to be there and looking forward to joining the party.

So you can imagine my surprise when I reached his beautifully decorated, holiday-lighted home and saw not a single car parked out in front. I drove by slowly, but saw no people mingling inside with cocktails as expected. I saw another car pull up to the curb, but its passengers bore the same puzzled expression I had and they quickly moved along. Sure, I was "fashionably late," but not that late, I thought, "The party can't be over yet, can it?"

I called my friend Sandy to see what etiquette dictated that I do, and to find out if she had any bright ideas about what may have occurred. Thinking there may have been such a small turnout that my friends went out to a bar instead of hanging at the house, she suggested I call my friend's home and cell phone numbers. I did, receiving no answer at either, and left a message on his cell phone explaining that I was in the neighborhood, after running late from a dinner, but was hoping to pop in at the house or catch up with them if they had gone out for drinks.

Heeding her request for an update because she was curious about this conundrum, I dialed Sandy's number again. She asked, "What exactly does the invitation say?" So I read her the part about joining them for cocktails on "December 3 exclamation mark" (3!) Sandy queried, "Is it possible that is a number one, meaning December 31?" And then it all became clear, my face reddening at the mere thought of having appeared 28 days early for a cocktail party. I began to imagine all the jokes at work and my inability to ever live down this perception among my colleagues that I am flighty and not altogether bright. I began pondering whether I could pay off this colleague not to disclose my silly mistake. I began wondering if I could super-speed my departure from private practice to do civil rights work.

"Ah," I thought, "yet another chapter has been added to the book of "My Embarrassing Life Experiences," one that many, many people will enjoy reading before all is said and done." I drove home with significantly less grooving to the radio.

Postscript: Later in the evening, I received a call back from my colleague. Rather than ridiculing me, he sounded very nice and was apologetic for the mixup, as he knew my drive to his house is a fairly long one and he felt bad that I had made it for no reason. Apparently, I wasn't the only person who read the invitation that way, as someone else had sent their regrets earlier in the week about not being able to make it on Saturday night, but he said it had not sunk in for him until receiving my message that people actually thought the invitation was for a party this weekend. I explained how my mortification had been compounded by the fact that I realized he would probably think after hearing the voice mail I left that I had simply been in his neighborhood and was stopping by spontaneously for an uninvited visit. We laughed about the situation and he promised not to tell anyone from work, with no payoff necessary, so all is well that ends well.

The smile that hides

This postcard from Post Secret struck a chord with me:



During some of the times in my life when I have been most unhappy or upset, I have been surprised to find out that no one around me knew how I was feeling and that they actually believed I was totally happy. It is amazed how we--especially, but not solely, women--are trained to play the role of a happy person at all times.

This blog is my attempt to keep it real somewhere other than in my everyday acting role.

Resolutions.

I thought I would get an early start on my New Year's Resolutions . . . perhaps because I'm planning to skip right over the end-of-the-year holidays, treating them as bonus days off work that permit my little jaunt to New York City.

Anyway, my resolutions are all designed to make me the architect of the life I would dream about if only I made time to do so . . . and include:

(1) I will make a concerted effort to stay in touch with friends . . . there are many very special people in my life and I simply do not do a good enough job of keeping up with them . . . and I love when I do catch up with them, like when I saw my various friends in Northern California over Labor Day.

(2) I will make choices that are good for me, with respect to food, and exercise, and dating. When I sense that someone or something is not good for me, I will run as fast as I can, instead of making excuses or leaving myself open to harm of any sort.

(3) I will make time in each week to work on my dreams . . . time to do the networking and volunteer work that will help make my work dreams come true, time to fix up my house and otherwise handle my affairs so that I am ready to move to New York as soon as I can find a way to make it happen, etc.

(4) I will do things that feed my soul, like engage in the hobbies (photography and writing) I love, spending time absorbing art and music, bonding with my dogs, traveling and reading books that make me think.

(5) I will continue to build on the good financial progress I made this year, saving money and avoiding debt so that I am in a position to make the life changes I crave.

(6) Last, but not least, I will do what I can to heal the relationships I have which are broken, with my family and others. I know my life will be richer for it.

These are just my off-the-cuff ideas. I wil continue to let this marinate.

Must get: Mr. Clean Magic Eraser

After all, everyone seems to be talking about it all at once! Here and here! Of course, the acquisition of this item may require actual housecleaning, not my forte.

Here's how to learn more about this Magic Eraser.

XO

I once bought these letters to give as a gift to someone I was dating:



We broke up before I ever passed the gift along, and I have since installed them as part of the eclectic group of items that makes up my home decor. An A/C repairman once mistook them for sorority letters; I corrected him without letting him know how far off the mark he was at connecting me with any sorority.

The letters have actually come to mean something very different to me now; they certainly are not a reminder of the person for whom they were originally intended. Now they remind me to love myself and to be gentle with myself. I had no idea how hard I am on myself until a few years ago, when I actually shared some of my blaming thoughts and feelings with a few trusted friends, only to learn that they felt I was not giving myself any credit for the good things. Not only that, I wasn't cutting myself any slack at all as a human being who makes mistakes and bad choices sometimes, and who cannot control much of what goes on in the world.

I have worked hard since then to change the way I look at things, with varying success. But as I try to tip the scales in the other direction, I think I have already seen a measure of success just by being aware of these tendencies in myself and working to change them.

Why Bush won, at the price of 50 cents

I rarely buy the Dallas Morning News, because I find it difficult as a matter of principle to fork out my hard-earned quarters for a Corporate Media Arm for the Administration, posing as A Newspaper With Unbiased and Informative Journalistic Efforts. But yesterday I found myself out to breakfast with nothing to read, and that just won't do, as I am nothing if not addicted to reading while I eat (alone). I purchased a copy of the Dallas Morning News, knowing darn well what I was getting into.

So, let's take a look at the editors' decisions concerning yesterday's Dallas Morning News, shall we? Buried inside the front section were the following very important stories:

"Indictment portrays Padilla as minor figure in conspiracy," the story about how the Administration has "held [Juan Padilla] without charges at a navy brig since 2002 after being labeled an enemy combatant," only to now charge him on minor conspiracy charges linked to plans "to support radical Islamic fighters" everywhere but the U.S. (page 7A).

"Dismissed FEMA chief starts consulting firm," a story about Michael Brown, the worst disaster-responder ever, now charging money to advise people on how to respond to disasters (page 2A).

"Lawmakers who helped tribes took donations," a story about the ever-widening Abramoff scandal. This one explains that "more than a dozen members of Congress intervened to help Indian tribes win federal school construction money while accepting political donations from the tribes, their lobbyist Jack Abramoff or his firm." (page 10A)

Well, of course, there is a limited amount of front page space in any paper. Surely the really important stories took up that space, right? What important stories, you ask, did the Dallas Morning News choose to include on their front page? These stories:

"Video downloads aren't like peas in an iPod yet," a story about the "highly competitive" market for MP3 player downloads, in which each download is available only through different competing markets. (Above the fold--top story)

"Down to the wire," a story about the Cowboys/Broncos football game, which takes up more space than any other story on the front page, including the story titled, "Suicide car blast kills 30 in Iraq." (Above and below the fold)

The icing on the cake of this oh-so-entertaining installment of the Dallas Morning News? The day's featured letter to the editor (printed in a box, with an illustration), from a John Kevin McMillan in Austin, Texas. Mr. McMillan wrote about a story regarding the only finalist for the University of Texas' presidency, a man who is currently the dean of the law school. The article he writes about referenced, among other things, the dean's affinity for the television series "The Simpsons." Here is Mr. McMillan's take:

For a law school dean to admit that he greatly admires that show is tantamount to confessing that he does not truly believe in law and order.

The Simpsons is one of the most anti-American and decadently destructive television shows I have ever seen. It is heartless, dizzying, schizophrenic and headache inducing. It revels in anarchy, chaos, flippancy, entropy, fraud, incompetence, lawlessness, juvenile delinquency, heartlessness and crass consumerism, accompanied by rampant materialism.

The characters' reckless misadventures suggest that Americans are mischief-prone sensation-seekers hellbent on pursuing whims in the guise of having a "lifestyle." Deeper religious or moral values and a level-headed consistency of conduct are beyond them.

As a UT alumnus, I am dismayed to see the UT System Board of Regents is considering no alternatives to William Powers, Jr.

When I read the second quoted paragraph above, I thought Mr. McMillan had segued into a complaint about the Bush Administration. But I'm guessing that this guy voted for Bush, as he seems more concerned about the content of a television show (is UT not teaching its students the difference between "reality" and "entertainment"?) than he is about the incompetency of a much more important group of folks than the Simpsons.

As web sites like Daily Kos show, many, many of our fellow Americans are well-informed concerning current events. But next time you encounter individuals who are not aware of simple facts, such as the fact that weapons of mass destruction have yet to be found in Iraq, thousands of deaths after our invasion for the status purpose of there being weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, you need look no further than papers like the Dallas Morning News to figure out how they could not know.

I find myself feeling oh so thankful.

On the eve of Thanksgiving this year, I find myself feeling thankful. Thankful for my health, and that I did not have to have surgery, and that certain functions of my body should not be affected in the future. I am thankful for my good friends, who comfort me in times of crisis and make my life fuller by letting me share in their lives:









I am thankful for the opportunities I have had to travel this year. My life is richer for having seen . . .

this sky from my friend Kent's porch in Houston:



the New Mexico winter sky:



a rainy day in Massachusetts:



gorgeous art on the Harvard campus:



a veteran at the JFK museum:



my favorite French cafe in NYC:



view of the Arch from my hotel in St. Louis:



Lions at the Chicago Art Institute wearing White Sox caps during the World Series:



the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago:



Dog beach in Chicago:



Fall color in Boonville, Missouri:



lovely San Francisco:



I am thankful for two of the great loves of my life, baseball and the Chicago Cubs, without which I would not have had these experiences:





















I am thankful for my ability to interact with people of all kinds, like . . .

boy at Fenway Park:



this little girl in Luckenbach, Texas:



Cubs fans at Wrigley:




I am thankful for the simple beauty I have been privileged to witness in my everyday life, like these views from my house or very near my house:







There is oh so much more to be thankful for . . . this list merely scratches the surface. But I feel content today, thankful for this overflowing cup from which I drink.

A new favorite blog of mine.

I recently stumbled upon a new (to me) blog, called "The Big Yellow House." I think I found it via a ring of home renovation web sites, which serve as my poor computer geek's substitute for HGTV, now that I have gone a year without subscribing to cable/satellite television.

Anyway, Chris, the mother of the family that resides in the Big Yellow House, is also the writer of the House's blog. And she is a very good writer. When I read her blog, I feel like I'm living in the "Please Don't Eat the Daisies" house, only with an even larger family. After a few perusals of her blog, I was trying to count the number of children Chris has. This was no easy task, because she typically writes about only a few of them at a time, referring to them like this: "my third son" "my daughter," etc. But when they aren't all mentioned in the same story, it is hard to figure out where the counting stops (I refuse to blame my own lack of analytical ability, as this type of question is one I typically ace on standardized exams--she said defensively).

But finally Chris had me stumped, and I had to know how many kids live in that house (or more accurately, how many kids Chris so smoothly manages to manage every day). So I just posted a comment and asked her if she truly has seven kids, with one on the way (which was my best calculation after many attempts)? She kindly answered my question, but I found myself strangely disappointed when she said she "only" has seven, but that there will be no more on the way--"ever" (she said emphatically).