This makes me laugh

in a good way.

And so does this . . . Rudy has produced great spin on his using taxpayer money, funneled through other New York City department accounts, to pay for security while he cheated with his mistress:





Via Talking Points Memo.

This makes me sad

and scared.

Remember May?

May is the daughter of two of my dear friends here in Dallas. She is funny and smart and cute and altogether delightful. You would never know she suffers from Tuberous Sclerosis (TS), which causes benign tumors to form in organs throughout the body. The last time I asked you to support May's parents in raising money to fight TS through our local marathon, I was delighted when they asked me questions like, "Is David in Utah one of your friends?," after so many of you so generously offered your support.



So far, May’s TS has manifested itself as a couple of tumors in her brain. Her health has been good this year: her medicine seems to work pretty well. However, every three months or so, May “outgrows” her dosage, experiencing a handful of seizures that lead her doctor to up her prescription. Her parents hope this current dosage can keep her seizure free for a while, but only time will tell. You can learn more about TS in this wonderful article about all that actress Julianne Moore is doing for the cause.

As I mentioned before, Scottish Rite Hospital in Dallas is a huge help to May and her parents. The research they do there as well as the information that they provide has been terrific for their family. Scottish Rite has even hooked their family up with other families dealing with the disease, sending them to camp together annually to ensure they remember the support they can offer each other. Most importantly, the help Scottish Rite offers is entirely free, as the hospital is entirely funded from charitable donations.

A week from Sunday, May's Team will again run in the Dallas White Rock Marathon in an effort to raise money for Scottish Rite. If you have a bit of spare cash, I cannot think of a more worthy cause than this wonderful hospital that makes life so much better for so many people, including my dear little friend May and her parents. You can pledge support for the runners here--as you can see, they have a little way left to reach their goal. Think you can help? :)

Thank you for your consideration!

Thanksgiving Update

I hope you all had a great Thanksgiving Day. Our meal was wonderful and unexpectedly quiet as a result of last-minute cancellations by my brother and cousins. The bright side of this was that I was able to enjoy the longest uninterrupted conversation I have ever had with my uncle, a great guy whom I do not see often enough. Having arrived a bit early, I was even able to enjoy a private visit with my aunt and uncle while I constructed a salad. (No, the world has not ended, as I did not actually "cook" anything . . . I merely assembled pieces of a salad). By the time my Mom and I returned home, it was after 5 pm and I was exhausted, having only slept for a few hours before catching my early morning flight to Chicago.

On another note, there is something strange about waking up in one's childhood bedroom. There was a period of time between high school graduation and my father's death in which I did not sleep in this room, because I always stayed with my Dad when back in Illinois. But now, by default, I stay at my mother's house, which is also the only house I ever lived in as a child. The room has now been painted, the Shaun Cassidy and Parker Stephenson posters are gone and there is a new and much more comfortable mattress on the narrow twin bed. But still, I cannot shake the feeling of being watched here by ghosts of my childhood. Being here returns me to the silence of my childhood, where feelings were never discussed, except for jotting them down in my diary.

Thoughts for another day, as I go off to take my grandmother's boyfriend to breakfast . . .

Pre-Thanksgiving Tidbits

Here is the fastest trip from Fort Worth to Dallas that you've ever seen, as viewed from the police car chasing a totally insane guy who would not stop:



Via Unfair Park.

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Returning home for Thanksgiving . . . first major holiday at home in as long as I can remember. I'm trying to think of it in a positive way. I'm only going for three days, leaving Sunday back here to regroup. Wish me luck!

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Flight tomorrow at 6:45 a.m. Eek! Among the books making the journey with me is a book about the technical aspects of my camera, one that I've been meaning to study for a while. It is possible that what pushed the book onto my "to take" pile is my desire not to look like a fool with this guy I find interesting who is a talented photographer. Hm.

On a brighter note . . .

I had a weekend jam-packed with things I love to do, including but not limited to several hours of service to my favorite civil rights organization.

After that, a glorious day and a lovely drive from Dallas to Central Texas, where I was able to catch up with a friend, try a new food (an Indian dessert) and even learn a new skill: XBox 360 (though I am decidedly unskilled at it, I have learned).

Now knocking out some work before conducting training sessions all day tomorrow. But I'll have a 3-hour drive home in which to try to think of something interesting to write so as not to make another post like this one. :)

Of birthdays, and departures, and vows.

One day earlier this week, I was leaving work for the evening when I noticed several police cars and a good bit of police tape at the far end of our parking garage. The scene was too far away for me to see what was going on and the security guard I passed on my way out would not tell me what had occurred. It later became clear that our property owner's "sound bite" on the incident was that it was a "medical emergency," as one rep after another used that phrase and looked uncomfortable when asked what happened in the parking garage the other night. My mind is nothing if not inquisitive, and I embarked upon a mission to find out more about this incident.

Yesterday, I found an offense report at the police department's web site indicating that a 62-year old man had committed suicide by shooting himself in our parking garage just after 5 pm that day. I cannot stop thinking about this man. My thoughts and feelings have included sadness that he felt the need to end his life prematurely, wondering what caused him to do that and worrying about his family.

Today, I found his obituary. Reading it gave me a great sense of relief that he appears to have had a loving and wonderful family and a life that included many happinesses. It also makes me wonder even more what could have led him to the hopelessness that would permit him to commit suicide. I have considered leaving a note of support for his family at their online guestbook, but I have not yet figured out what I should say.

Today would have been my father's 65th birthday had he not died 9 years ago. When I learned of my father's death in that long distance telephone call from my brother, one of my first questions was whether Dad had taken his own life. Although my brother said no, I do not believe I truly accepted that until I actually read the autopsy report blaming a heart attack for my father's death. Dad struggled for years with the depression with which I so often grapple as well, though it was only after his death that I learned from family friends that he had, for a brief period of time while I was in high school, been hospitalized due to his illness. I was upset that no one had ever told me this; I think knowing it would have led me to treat my father more gently and with greater patience. I realize I should have done that anyway, but nonetheless, I wish I had known.

This is the hardest time of year not just for me, but for many, many people. I have thought a good bit this week about what nice thing I can do for Phil's birthday. Here it is: Instead of acting abruptly when encountering less-than-cheerful folks, thoughtless drivers or less than stellar customer service, I will make sure I offer a cheery or supportive word and try to leave their day a little brighter after our encounter, because who knows what struggles they may be having? This is a small thing to do, but I know from being on the receiving end of such kindnesses that they mean a lot when someone is feeling sad or hopeless.

Peanut Tales.

Everything you ever needed to know about the kind of people one finds in law school is right here, in this thread on AbovetheLaw.com.

The back story is that apparently, a student at Villanova's law school has a peanut allergy. She decided to be a visiting student at Fordham this year, and the Villanova dean sent a sympathetic email to the Fordham dean, not realizing that he was actually emailing an entire listserv of deans, deans who are not really all that into discretion, and one of whom leaked the email to a blog read by many.

In the comments thread that follows, you will see there are people sympathetic to the peanut allergy, those who are disdainful of it, some cynics who think the girls is faking it because peanuts only appear to bother her when she actually knows they are present, and others who simply do not want to give up their peanut butter sandwiches. A few Villanova students deny that any "peanut party" occurred after the girl's departure, though someone says they simply were not invited to said peanut party.

It's a rough world, law school land.

Weekend and the Week Ahead

I meant to work this weekend and instead did fun things . . . saw a movie that made me think about whether a person is better off with their own parents or better parents, went on a house tour that included a church being made into a modern home and ate some excellent hummus. One of the best parts of my weekend was reading the Sunday New York Times nearly cover to cover. If there was only one thing I could keep about my weekends (assuming I could always spend time with my dogs), it would be reading the New York Times. Thank goodness that all of the good papers have not gone away in this age of corporate imperialism in the media world.

Phil had a 40th! birthday on Saturday and made an intriguing request for birthday presents. He asks that we each go out of our way to do more good or less harm than we otherwise would have, and report back to him. It's a great idea, birthday or no. It also makes me feel better to know that others would have to consciously think of this, as sometimes I feel as if I'm the last one figuring it all out.

Go forth and have a great week!

Change of plans.

I realized that I have been censoring myself on this blog. Perhaps a more accurate term would be "not writing."

I've been holding back from writing things that are not upbeat enough or that you may not find interesting or that may not be perfect enough to pass my own ridiculously high bar. I have felt worried that people are tired of me using this as a virtual diary. But I did not begin writing this for an audience, and I need to write about the things that are going to help me grow as a person, because, well, that's what I need to do. I need to write every day because it makes me a better writer. I need to stop censoring myself. So, I hope you all will hang around, because I have grown to really like you, but if you don't, I understand.

Some random things:

• I feel lucky to have a housekeeper who surprises me by unearthing a few of my little-used Halloween decorations and displaying them in my house, then putting them away after Halloween.
• Walking through a Sears store this week, I was catapulted back to my childhood, in which any family trip to the mall began and ended with the Sears store . . . I found myself remembering how hard my parents worked, at jobs they were not that crazy about, in order to give my brother and I a better life. I'm going to remember that the next time I am having a bad day at work and am tempted to hate my job.
  
• I may be growing up, in that I would previously have agonized when a person with whom I work once again reveals himself to be an asshole, but this time, it bothered me for thirty seconds and then I moved on, glad I don't have to live with the karma that will be his.
• Certain things that are really good have fallen away from my life over the last few years . . . such as reading books for pleasure, working out and boys. I want to change that.

The Cheneys Support Racist Country Clubs

I'm sure this is shocking to you. But I feel obligated to report what Dallas' daily newspaper studiously ignores.

As reported on the "Unfair Park" blog of Dallas' weekly newspaper, the Dallas Observer, during the visit to Dallas last week of Vice President Dick Cheney, his wife Lynne held a book signing. Lynne Cheney chose to sign her new book at the Dallas Country Club, reportedly the only country club in America that still refuses to admit blacks or Jews. Dallas Observer writer Robert Wilonsky hypothesizes:

Guess since the book is "Cheney's memoir of her childhood in Casper, Wyoming," she wanted to capture that all-white experience she grew up with. And Cheney as a congressman was one of the few to vote against the MLK holiday.

Dallas' weekly newspaper had, of course, reported recently on the membership of two Dallas mayoral candidates in this country club (one of whom is now our Mayor, unfortunately), but apparently doesn't see the roles of the VP and his wife as being quite as high profile as Mayor of Dallas.

Be sure to check out the Unfair Park post, as it also contains an adorable picture of the Cheneys' dogs' Halloween costumes. Perhaps Dick is on his way to Pakistan right now to help his and Shrub's beloved Pakistani President Musharraf beat the crap out of lawyers protesting his coup of his own administration and unconstitutional overthrow of the supreme court poised to rule on whether he had lawfully won the last election.

In case you are wondering,

I was NOT the heckler escorted by security from Dick Cheney's speech in Dallas yesterday. But I did notice a black cloud hung over our fair city the entire time he and his wife were in town.

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Who does this sound like?

“Rudy can fall for people big time, and sometimes qualifications are secondary to loyalty,” said Fran Reiter, a former Giuliani deputy mayor who now supports Hillary Clinton. “If he gets it in his head he trusts you, he is extremely loyal.”

I'll give you a hint: in the linked story, he is pictured with Bernard Kerik. Electing Rudy Giuliani is the single worst thing that could happen in the 2008 election.

There is one less woman in professional baseball.

Although I love the sport of baseball, one of its dirty little not-so-secrets is the sexism. I tolerate this because I love the game so much, but it is sometimes quite hard to stomach. There are some very talented women holding a variety of positions in the game of baseball, but too few, and rarely at the levels they deserve.

This is not surprising when one hears comments like the one Cubs manager Lou Piniella made to a New York Times reporter earlier this year in this exchange:

Q (reporter): On the other hand, it might be nice if baseball moved into the future by including more women in its ranks. Do you think a woman could be a good manager?

A (Piniella): If she had a good bench coach, why not? I would think she would need a good hardened professional baseball guy that would help her with the x’s and o’s during the ballgame. Someone who knew the intricacies in and out of the game.

And he was serious.

So I was saddened to learn tonight via the ever-informative Bleed Cubbie Blue that Ria Cortesio, pro baseball's only female umpire, was let go this week. Her dismissal is especially startling given the status she had attained:

Cortesio started this season as the top-ranked umpire in all of Double-A. If there had been an opening in Triple-A, it would've been hers.

There were no vacancies and when the new ratings by minor league supervisors came out in mid-season, her ranking substantially dropped. So, too, did her chance of getting a promotion and possibly making it to the majors someday.

A move up would have greatly changed her status - umpires in Triple-A are under the auspices of major league supervisors.

"I don't know if they wanted to make a call on me in the majors," she said.

Cortesio umpired a spring training game between the Cubs and the Diamondbacks this year. I wish I had seen that in person, as it may be a long time before another woman has that opportunity. I hope MLB proves me wrong.

Help, the U.S. government has fallen into a rabbit hole and it can't get up . . . .

You may ask yourself, what on earth would lead a governmental agency to have to make this pledge about its press conferences:

Paulison pledged yesterday that FEMA will give at least one hour's notice of news conferences, will not prevent reporters listening in on a telephone conference line from asking questions and will allow only reporters to do the questioning.

Well, this is the kind of pledge an agency must make after it:

• announces a news conference about 15 minutes before it is to begin, making it unlikely that reporters could attend;

• sets up a telephone conference line so reporters can listen, but prohibits the reporters from being able to ask questions during the conference;

• in a conference televised live by cable news channels, the agency spokesman stands behind a lectern and calls on questioners without disclosing that he is calling on his agency's own employees;

• the spokesman gives replies reading more like a publicity piece, in which he emphasizes that his agency's response to this week's California wildfires was far better than its response to Hurricane Katrina in August 2005.

No, you are not imagining it: this is America, George W. Bush-style. I'll bet this episode made Karl Rove really sad he isn't a part of the administration anymore.

Texas is the new Chicago

How so, you ask? Well, our Legislature employs curious voting methods, while at the same time insisting that we little people show our left kidney to prove we are not engaging in voter fraud:



Via Fort Bend Democrats.

New York was wonderful!

Here's a pic . . . will write a real post later:



Cloisters Column and Colors, by me.

My Hometown

No, not New York, silly! My other hometown . . . back in Illinois.

Imagine my surprise to see that someone has photographed and written about an store there that is very familiar to me. It is one of those stores, literally on Main Street, that represents what downtown in a small town used to be. The owner is honest and nice and hard-working. The store is useful and important to the people who live there.

Check it out!

New Friends

So I'm at a client's conference for their key outside lawyers who do what I do. It's sort of an odd scenario, in which those of us who compete for their business are all thrown in a room together for about 24 hours of meals and conference-y stuff. However, the conference was great and I learned a lot and enjoyed spending time with my client. But perhaps most surprising to me is that I made some great friends among the competitors I met at this conference, guys with whom I think I will truly keep in touch.

It seems like after a certain age, you stop expecting that you'll make new friends everywhere you go. When you meet kindred spirits with whom you can have stimulating conversation, it is a pleasant surprise.

We stayed downstairs talking for way later than we should have and I'm now debating whether to sleep at all before trying to catch my 6:00 a.m. flight.

Can body chemistry change?

I'm curious about this.

For my entire adult life until about a year ago, I could drink alcoholic beverages without being any worse for the wear unless, of course, I overindulged. But about a year ago, I began noticing that even drinking an innocuous glass of wine left me feeling lethargic in the morning and affected my mood to a considerable degree. When I realized this occurred every time I had a glass of wine and was not an aberration, I decided not to drink except on the rare occasions when it is socially required. But now I'm thinking that even then, I'll find away around it--I simply feel better without it.

Just thoughts . . .

In Texas,

we now have a do-it-yourself death penalty (saves time! no trial!) for run of the mill burglars. See someone in your garage, taking your tools, posing no physical threat whatsoever to you? Take his life! Because it cannot possibly be worth as much as a lug wrench.

Ugh.

Travel Time.

I've been all work and no play--with very little sleep--for the last several days, but today there were filings galore, and now I'm ready to play. There are three days of business trips beginning tomorrow, to Minneapolis and New York. While I adore the clients I'm visiting and look forward to seeing them, I must confess that dressing up and being on my best behavior is one of my least favorite things to do.

After that, there will be three days of pure pleasure in New York City. I was going to be "good" and come home for the weekend, but then I thought, "I'm there and probably won't get back for a while, why not enjoy it?" I need to get back some of that centered vacation feeling and am hoping to find it there.

These are things I saw last time I was in my beloved NYC, in May:

Outdoor Chair Art:



New York Public Library Reading Room:



I'm looking forward to seeing little Freddie, also known as the "Love Pig":



How can you not feel happier just by looking at his picture?

Have a wonderful week, all!

Saturday Links

I just slept for 12 hours (in a row), in what constituted a desperate attempt by my body to stave off exhaustion-induced insanity. I could sleep more, but have to go to work now.

But first, some fascinating (to me, anyway) links:

Via Susan: "Hillbilly How-to: Practical uses for your old computer pieces"

Among my favorites is the monitor-turned-squirrel-cage.

Via Kottke: He moderates a match of Layer Tennis

For people who enjoy art, design and competition--sort of a battle of the creative nerds.

And for a Saturday brain twister . . . via Chris: Which way do you see the dancer spinning?

I see clockwise when I look at it directly . . . cannot imagine her spinning any other way.
But when I read the article and just see the spinning dancer out of the corner of my eye, it appears that she shifts into counterclockwise mode . . . interesting!

Off to brief . . .

Tidbits.

Here's a story that is heartwarming and chilling all at the same time:

Instead of going directly to his mother's kitchen for the home cooking he'd been denied while serving 14 years for a rape he didn't commit, Ronald Gene Taylor's first order of business after getting out of prison Tuesday was to confront the mayor at [Houston] City Hall.

"I think there is a lot of people who have the same problem I had [being convicted for a crime he did not commit, when DNA evidence was available to exonerate them]," he told the standing room only crowd in the City Council chamber. "There are a lot of people who can't get help because they don't have the finances. Something needs to be done."

Recent DNA testing on the rape victim's bed sheet revealed that another man with a history of sexual violence committed the crime.

Mr. Taylor served 14 years for a crime he didn't commit due to the Houston police department lab's "mistake." While he was in prison, 8 of his aunts and uncles died. A fiancee waited for him; she waits for him now in Atlanta.

Oh, and the man who actually committed the rape? He won't serve a day for it, as the D.A.'s office missed the deadline for the grand jury to indict him.

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On a happier note, from the "What a Guy" file, I love finding handy things a person has taken the time to create with no monetary reward in mind. One such thing is this seat selector created by Joe Siegler, a Texas Rangers fan. You can click on any section in the Ballpark at Arlington, where the Rangers play, and see a photo Joe took of the view from that section.

If only they had this for all ballparks!

The world feels really empty to me right now.

On a personal level, anyway. I feel lonely. The source of this feeling is not clearly known to me. Have I driven everyone away? It feels as if the wheels could blow off everything at any moment. Also, I'm going to miss my grade school reunion this weekend because I have to work. I feel as if I am letting down my classmates and expect to regret missing the outing.

More significantly, I might have written before about a dear friend who is serving a lengthy prison term. I learned today that a substantial reason for him getting a terrible defense at trial was that the U.S. Attorney's office pressured his former employer to stop paying his legal fees, under a threat that the company would be indicted, too. This makes me so sick that there are no words. Despite all of the terrible things the Bush Administration has done to our government, I have relied on an abiding faith that this, too, shall pass and that our system was built to withstand such low points in the Executive Branch. But knowing this could happen--that the U.S. Attorney's office would do it, that the company and its lawyers would go along with it--so shakes my faith in our system that I don't know what to do. His trial counsel won a $2.5 million dollar verdict against the company earlier this year for its failure to pay his legal fees. But my friend remains in federal prison.

I'm trying really hard to think positive thoughts right now.

And so a long winter begins.

The Cubs were swept by the Diamondbacks. I have no words, other than those of the late MLB Commissioner Bart Giamatti, speaking about the game of baseball:

It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. You count on it, rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops.

(Via Bleed Cubbie Blue)

Be safe this winter, Cubs team. We'll get them next year.

RALLY TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Friends, my Cubs need your help. You see, they are down 2-0 in a best of 5 series, and today's game is literally a "must win." I will be in section 218 of that hallowed place we call Wrigley Field, cheering them on with 40-or-so thousand others. If a miracle can happen anywhere, why not at Wrigley Field?

Sing it with me (credit to Steve Goodman for the Cubs anthem):



(Via the Peoria Pundit)

Go, Cubs, go,
Go, Cubs, go,
Hey, Chicago what do you say?
The Cubs are gonna WIN today!

She's going straight to hell, Part II

If there is indeed a "hell,"

Dana Perino is headed directly there:



The "nonverbal cues," as we lawyers like to call them, are extraordinary. Shifting eyes and head, looking down during the worst of the lies, tripping over her words like few White House Press Secretaries have done in recently memory. How do members of the Bush Administration sleep at night?

Sorry I haven't written much:
I'm worried about my Cubs.
I'm in a state of annoyance at work--yet again--despite my new positivity approach.
I'm pretty much in a "If you have nothing nice to say . . . " mode.

Hopefully, I'll snap out of this and be motivated to write again soon.

Some news . . .

The Chicago Cubs are going to the playoffs !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Search term.

Someone came to this site yesterday via this search: "psychiatric care for Cub fans." I know how you feel, my friend, I know how you feel!

Who's that hiding in the corn?

This is a preview of the story I intend to post next:

Please think good thoughts.

You might remember May, whose cause you so generously supported not very long ago. May's dad, who also is a very good friend, is scheduled to have bypass surgery tomorrow, probably around mid-day. The surgery is expected to be routine and successful, but it would be great if you could please keep my friend Dan in your thoughts.

UPDATE: The surgery was both routine and successful--yay!

Have you met Popeye?

If you haven't, you should. These words of his struck a chord for me, and they may for you as well, fellow busy people:

I’m also starting to see how the pain of exhaustion helped distract me from other kinds of pain that were part of my life. It’s not as much as I’m “taking my life back” as much as it feels as though I’m claiming a life that I think part of me thought I really didn’t deserve.

He's a wise one, that Popeye.

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From another corner of our fine country, Raul writes about an evening of unexpected bonding with strangers that began like this:

After a few minutes a very tall girl with long brown hair who I would later learn was a Parsons design student, broke social convention, turned to her fellow benchmates, and said, "My God, wasn't today beautiful." At first she just got a few quiet affirmations,"yeah, gorgeous", "best day yet" etc, but then a young woman in a business suit again broke social convention and revealed personal information: "It was so nice, when I woke up I decided I didn't want to feel miserable about anything, and broke up with my boyfriend. I ditched him at 7:30 in the morning. He didn't know what hit him."

(Via Kottke)

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Sometimes the person singing a song is more important than the song itself. That is certainly true for Dustin. Listen to him sing:



and then read his story. By the way, he won the contest and will be singing the Seventh Inning Stretch at Wrigley Field in a few minutes, just a day past the 10th anniversary of Harry Caray's last singing of that hallowed song.

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Jay has done it again, this time busting the U.S. Treasury with looking to him (or a successful wager on the N.F.L.) for a solution to the growing national debt. That's odd, I thought Republicans were the fiscally responsible ones. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

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Because I'm better with pictures than words, here is a weekend photo for you:

Please, oh please . . .

tell me that people who are truly evil, who lie, who hurt others, who think only of themselves, will face some sort of karmic retribution at some time.

Please tell me this is true.

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On another note:


This doesn't mean I actually decided to support Kucinich--it reflects the results of this quiz.

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Petraeus wants a pony?

This is one of the most clever things I've seen in a while:

Via Susan at Kiss My Big Blue Butt, we see one of the slides General Petraeus used in his presentations to Congress last week about all the work left to do in Iraq, even though we are "winning" the war that was "mission accomplished" several years ago.

Susan then points us to the genius work of Cleek, who had some fun with this chart.

If you don't click and look at both charts, you'll be sorry!

Something strange.

Near the end of my vacation, I stayed at a pretty little inn on the western side of New Hampshire, near the White Mountains. By the time I arrived, I was feeling tired from a very long day of driving through northern Vermont, Canada and northern New Hampshire. I gratefully settled in for the tasty meal the female innkeeper arranged for me to have despite my late arrival time. Afterward, I wandered into this comfortable and lovely library, craving the opportunity to curl up on the leather couch and read for a little while:



I was startled to see that nearly every book on the shelves of this library is also found in my own home. Nearly my entire collection is here . . . from Ayn Rand to Anne Patchett, from Presidents' biographies to "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood." Even the small set of DVDs found on one shelf is a subset of the movies found in my home. This wasn't a small library, really--the book-lined shelves were on several walls. So, odd that I felt as if I were looking at my own bookshelves.

When I passed the check-in desk on the way to my room, I asked the innkeepers, "Whose books are those in the library?" And the male innkeeper said, "They are mostly mine. Why?" And of course I explained, but I think we both felt a little awkward about this, for reasons I do not pretend to understand.

At breakfast the next morning, the female innkeeper said how nice it was for them to have a solo traveler, as she and the male innkeeper are single as well and don't meet that many solo travelers. The male innkeeper came out to visit with me after I ate the breakfast he had prepared. He was wearing one of those white chef's jackets that makes every man who wears it look charming, but he would have been cute even without it. We chatted briefly, but I felt shy and wordless and did not do much to prolong the discussion.

My friend S thinks I should follow up in a friendly way, perhaps with an email forwarding some photographs I took of the inn. What do you think?

Oh, and if you are wondering who is sitting at the chess board, here is a close-up:

A Vacation/Political Adventure

As you know, I was very interested in participating in some good old-fashioned New Hampshire primary stumping during my vacation. As you also know, I had some trouble locating the Democratic candidates so I could do this--who knew that campaigning was best conducted in secret? Left with no alternative, I resorted to attending a meeting of a different sort on the last full day of my vacation: I participated in the Seacoast Republican Women's Chili Fest. Actually, "participated" may not be quite accurate, in that I was reluctant to give a dime to any Republican group, so I ate no chili and drank no drinks. Instead, I listened, watched and talked to people.

Here is what I learned:

Well, it worked.

I had hoped to come back from vacation with a plan for my life. I did, though not quite in the way I expected. Instead of a step-by-step plan for my career, which is what I had in mind, I came back with something different.

At work today, more than one person told me I look very rested and peaceful. I've taken many small trips and even a few lengthier vacations before, but never before have people said this upon my return. I spent a good bit of time today thinking about this. If I appear rested and peaceful, my appearance matches the way I feel inside, even after I was reminded this morning of a certain aspect of my employment which I totally despise.

Here's what I came up with: I believe I appear peaceful because I feel in touch with myself again. I feel a renewed sense of confidence that I will survive whatever life throws at me--I once knew this for sure, but had forgotten it. I know there are some things I need to do for myself in the short term which will help me accomplish the things I want in the long term, and I have committed to do those things. I feel more focused. And perhaps most importantly, I feel a zen sense of calmness that comes from knowing the things that bother me most right now do not matter in the long run, that I won't care about them at the end of my life, whenever that may be, and that things truly work out for the best in the end.

I think these girls, whom I saw while photographing a bridge in Vermont, know that:



And I'm hoping their photograph will help me remember it, too.

I'm going to use my last few hours of vacation

actually vacationing . . . but I do have a surprise ending to the trip to share with you! I'll write it on the plane . . .

Happy Sunday!

Sadly, the vacation is winding down.

I have reveled in the fresh air and the trees and the mountains and the interesting people and things to see and the delicious food in Vermont and New Hampshire. My only motivation for returning home right now is that I miss my dogs terribly.

This probably doesn't speak well for my overall level of satisfaction with my life. I have not yet spent as much time on introspection as I wanted to, but I'm hoping these next two days at Lake Winnipesaukee will do the trick.

Here's what I did tonight:

Arrivederci, voce bella.

As I drove away from Shelburne Farms today, there were tears in my eyes.



I was sad to leave, but the tears formed when I heard that Luciano Pavarotti died this morning. Immediately, I found his rendition of Nessun Dorma on my Ipod and listened to it several times. If you haven't heard it, please listen:



Hearing Pavarotti sing live was on the "Life List" I carry around in my head, and now that item will never be checked off. I'm sad for me, and sad for the world because that gorgeous voice is forever silenced.

Heavenly

Today was pretty relaxing. I didn't drive much . . . just to downtown Burlington to check out the pedestrian mall. There I bought my major souvenir of the trip. I'll take a picture when it arrives and post it for you--I'm pretty excited about it! While there, I also had a nice panini sandwich for lunch and eavesdropped on a man talking about where all the police speed traps are around town.

After returning to the Inn, I saw a video of different times in the history of the place. It is truly amazing that it was restored to this beauty after being in a state of near-ruin. I love old buildings! I also took a tour of the grounds. A math teacher was our volunteer leading the tour and she was a great guide. Dinner tonight was a special event. It was a "Vermont Fresh Network" dinner in which there was just one sitting, with multiple courses designed to show off the products grown right here on the grounds and elsewhere in Vermont. I enjoyed it thoroughly, except for the pig's belly, where I lost the battle of mind over matter. We were seated with other guests at a big table and it was nice to have actual dinner conversation after so many meals alone on my trip. And now I'm relaxing with the Cubs game and trying not to remember that I have to leave this lovely place tomorrow. I will definitely come back. I'm considering seeing if a group of friends would like to come here for Labor Day weekend next year, as it would be a wonderful place to spend time with a fun gang of friends.

More soon . . .

I'm not sure if there is a heaven . . .

but if there is, I think I may have stumbled upon it today. You never would have known it from the way my day began--early, with work obligations, which took much longer to wrap up than I would have liked. So it was not until nearly 3:00 p.m. that I was leaving my B&B.

I set off for Bennington, determined to have a quick look at the town and find a pleasant place for a belated lunch. Lunch was very nice--I enjoyed an open-faced crab sandwich at an old train depot with beautiful wood paneling. I quickly viewed the very phallic Bennington Monument, snapped photos of three covered bridges and was on my way north to Burlington. I had already traveled the eastern north-south road, so I chose the western, which took me over the border into New York. The landscape was rolling and beautiful, though not quite as charming as that of Vermont and New Hampshire. Before long, I was within 30 miles of Burlington, and that is where the magic began.

The sun was beginning to set. Finally, I understood where the phrase "purple mountain majesties" comes from, as the western mountain ridge began to appear purple in the shadow of the setting sun. At the top of a hill, I suddenly had the breathtaking view of Lake Champlain, lit until it glowed by the setting sun. I was soon near the inn that was my destination, but I did not realize it and accidentally drove past. After a few miles of tree-lined road, the trees disappeared and I was on a road just a few feet above the lake, with a shipyard on my right and the lake on my left. The view--of the mountains and the water and the setting sun--left me breathless once again. I gazed and snapped photos and gazed some more. Finally, I called the inn for directions, thinking my cup of magic was full and that I should call it a day. But when I went to turn the car around at the shipyard entrance, two beautifully delicate deer were in my path. I looked at them in wonder while they gracefully walked away.

I then found the inn . . . more on that later. But suffice it to say that if a person ever wanted to dream she was a princess, this would be an excellent place for that.

Aw, you guys!

Thanks so much for the sweet birthday wishes! Here is a covered bridge picture to tide you over until I post more:



It is the Cornish-Windsor Bridge, which connects Vermont and New Hampshire over the Connecticut River.

P.S. Color me annoyed: I tried to find out where the Democratic Presidential candidates would be for Labor Day weekend, thinking they might be in New Hampshire campaigning. I wanted to hear them speak in person, and for obvious reasons, they rarely bother to come to Texas. I could find nothing on their web sites about them being here, other than that Barack Obama's people would have a table at the Hopkinton Fair. I attended the fair on Saturday and searched exhaustively, but found no table. Imagine my disappointment when I learned that Hillary (and Bill) were at Hopkinton the day after I was there and that Barack was in New Hampshire today. ARGH!

What a wonderful birthday.

I awoke early, knocked out a bit of work and then hit the road. Visited a flea market about which I was curious. There I bought four baseball cards for Cubs players, which cost a total of 70 cents. The old man who sold them to me said, "You smell really good," which for some reason made me smile more than once today. I enjoyed talking with another old man about the baseball bats he was selling, which included an old Roger Maris model. We agreed that we both honor him as the true home run record holder, notwithstanding any who claim to have passed him.

Brunch was at a maple sugar place . . . it reminded me of Pennsylvania breakfasts when we visited my mother's extended family, which were marked by a holder with six different syrup flavors on the table. Even the coffee beans had some sort of maple roasted flavor. The afternoon was spent seeing how many of southern New Hampshire's covered bridges I could locate and photograph. A few proved elusive, but many were captured.

There was the smell of pine and the occasional smell of animals as I drove through hills and even one little mountain. The air became crisper and cooler and ultimately I crossed a river and entered Vermont. The curved road gave way to a driveway and a white New England kind of house. Inside, there were wood floors and comfortable chairs and a nice innkeeper with a faint New Jersey accent, efficiently showing me to my room.

After a brief rest and freshening up, I stepped out into the dining room and took a seat at a round wooden tavern table. My table was perfectly situated across from the kitchen entrance and a small bar, providing the perfect vantage point from which to watch the husband and wife innkeepers tend to their dinner guests. I settled in with the Sunday New York Times and enjoyed a few pleasantries with the couple at the next table. When I took my first sip of wine, I quietly gave thanks for all of the wonderful things the past year has brought. In my next breath, I vowed to make this year count, to be a little nicer, a little more thoughtful, to do well at the things I do and to squeeze the most living that can possibly be lived out of a 12-month period.

And now I'm cozily curled up in a four-poster bed, smelling wood smoke and watching the leaping flames of a fire and feeling the satisfaction of a day well-lived.

Boston to Bedford, N.H.

I'll fill in some details later, but here is what I have done so far:

• Actually make a 6:55 a.m. flight, albeit with very little sleep
• experienced first flight delay due to plane malfunction in quite some time
  
• land in Boston and spend first 30 minutes on a call for my civil rights organization
• find my rental car place (not the airport one--the city center location was much cheaper)
• begin driving to New Hampshire, veering off for a detour when I saw the main highway was an unpleasant parking lot
• find the inn with very little trouble, enjoying the quaint New England houses along the way
  
• find myself in the middle of a wedding at the inn (literally)
• tear myself away from a comfortable, homey room to go to a New Hampshire Fisher Cats game
• attended game at a nice little park where they serve "Chowdah"
• explored downtown Manchester, N.H. for just a bit
• ensconced in comfortable bed back at the Inn, and no way am I having a wakeup call--nibbling warm cookies left by Inn staff

Happy Labor Day, all!

The Letter.

I fly out at 6:55 tomorrow morning and am wondering how I will get everything done--including packing--before then. But before I hit total whirlwind mode, I wanted to jot something down about the old-fashioned letter.

I don't have a vivid memory of many things from my childhood, but one thing I do remember is my mother teaching me how to write a letter. She drilled me on the importance of good penmanship, grammar and spelling, as well as paragraph structure. As a child, however, most of my correspondence was limited to short and simple thank you notes. Then I moved to Texas for college and found (after my long distance phone card privileges were sharply reduced due to my abuse of such privileges) the best way to keep in touch with my friends who chose Midwestern schools was by writing letters. So we wrote lengthy tomes about everything under the sun, mailing them off at least once, but often two or three, times per week. I wish I still had those letters!

My friends and I don't write those kind of letters anymore. I suspect this is because we think we are too busy to write and now have cell phones that don't charge extra for long distance calls. But I realized this week, on reading a lengthy and satisfying birthday letter from my aunt, that I miss both writing and reading letters. For me, the pleasure of writing a letter lies in the choice of a solid and comfortable pen, beautiful writing paper and, most of all, thinking about what will make the reader laugh or otherwise read with interest.

My aunt lives in the town where she and my mother were born, a tiny village of 400 found about 80 miles southwest of Chicago. Reading her letter reminded me of the pleasure of a detailed glimpse into the life of someone you care about, presented in their "voice," which you can almost hear as you read their words on the page. Here is a little example of this:

I got me a new phone with call ID. I got so mad at [J and B (her teenage grandchildren)] calling & hanging up. J says it's B and B says it's J. A few days after I got it I had a hang up. I looked & it was a Colorado no. If I didn't have caller ID, I would have blamed them.

She wrote of a summer of corn and beans and fresh tomatoes. She talked about how she misses my uncle, who died almost two years ago, and how he used to be the one to take care of the yard. She asked when I will come home at Christmas time again. These latter items are things my aunt and I would never discuss quite like that in person, but somehow they fit just fine into a letter. I think I'll write her back from Vermont.

Bits and Pieces

Here's a really exciting example of what my favorite civil rights group has accomplished in Texas. We are so proud of the team that brought about this victorious settlement! (that's a funny phrase, isn't it?)

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After more than four months of working with it, I have finally become accustomed to my laptop. There are still many things about it that are counterintuitive and mysterious, mostly due to the vagaries of Windows Vista. But I love that I can pick it up with one hand.

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I just emerged from the trenches of preparing for a big deposition. Yesterday I learned in that deposition how a multi-lingual person with two MBAs and an undergraduate degree from the University of Michigan manages to be fired from every job she has ever held as an adult. Intriguing, maddening and sad all at the same time.

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Gee, did anything interesting happen while I was in my deposition? It even inspired Betty to write this wonderful poem! And here's another interesting item that came to light.

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Dallas recently had a change of mayors. This article about the correspondence the departing mayor received at the end of her term is intriguing. If I had written her a note, it would have said, "I'm sorry you didn't finish fixing the potholes."

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I would like to find one of these mailboxes to hang next to my door. It will be a celebration after my house is finally fixed.

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On Friday, I leave for 10 days of exploring the nooks and crannies of Vermont and New Hampshire. My trusty camera will accompany me. Among other things, I vow to be more judicious and more creative with the photos I take. I'm tired of returning from trips and sifting through 551 boring photos to find 3 I am proud to post! Oh, yeah, and when I return from the trip, I will be one year older.

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P.S. The girl in the post below had a chance to redeem herself by answering again. Here's what she said, and her explanation for the meltdown.

This HAS to make you feel good about the future of the "U.S. America"

Excuse me while I grab a bucket.

At the ceremony where he received a key to the City of San Francisco, Barry Bonds said:

"Love was giving me that strength," Bonds said. "You the fans, the city of San Francisco -- that is why I'm the player I am today."

Please.

Writing from Lubbock, Texas . . .

. . . where I wish I had brought a camera, as I have seen so many things I would love to photograph. Also, I feel as if I have entered a mysterious land in which it is still 1950.

Why? Many reasons. Among them:

(1) desperate for morning caffeine, I entered "Starbucks" into my rental car's navigation system, which revealed two locations 5 and 7 miles away and a third 102 miles away;

(2) people ride bikes around town while wearing normal clothes, rather than skin tight biking outfits like those found in the Tour de France;

(3) locals do not lock their car doors and even consider leaving their keys in the car;

(4) the Hertz shuttle service takes a person approximately 100 yards from the airport to the parking lot found just downhill; and

(5) when a handsome manager employed by one's client is assigned after dinner to help the out-of-town attorney locate her hotel, he looks puzzled to find her in the driver's seat of her own rental car, intending to drive herself with him as a passenger.*

*If you're wondering, the nearly 38-year old General Counsel for her state's civil rights organization cheerfully said, "Oh, you'd like to drive?" and handed over the keys without argument.

Anniversaries and A Decorated Office.

I realized this week that this summer marks a number of anniversaries for me. Twenty years since I moved from Illinois to Texas to begin college. Fifteen years since the summer I spent with the man who set the benchmark for me on what love is. Ten years since I moved to Dallas as the result of a transfer with my former firm.

Thinking about these anniversaries has brought a mix of emotions: nostalgia, anger, the sweetness of one's first grown-up love and disbelief that I have survived for so long in this conservative Southern city among them. I cannot help but believe that the convergence of these anniversaries makes this a sort of milestone year for me. I have finally grasped some long-sought after prizes and now is the perfect time to sketch out what I want my life to be, then turn the wheel in that direction.

I will think about this in a few weeks, while I explore the nooks and crannies of Vermont and New Hampshire during my fall vacation. But for now, I'm enjoying the open vista before me.



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On a less deep note, the re-decorating of my office is nearly complete! It began with firm-provided loaner furniture and a very dark little corner. It now looks like this, with only an end table, some art on the walls and a bit of tidying up left to do:





This is one of my two identical lamps . . . I love them!



I am proud that I have made such significant changes so economically.

The Emasculating Puff

"To my warped mind, the puff screams out emasculation."

These are the words of my friend J, regarding his discomfort with his girlfriend leaving a puff in their shower. Then he explained why the shower mitt, to which she has now converted, does not bother him as much. I'm guessing that the extreme wonder, bordering on hysterical humor, with which I listened to this story is just one of the many reasons I remain single at age 37.

Tidbits

The luck I brought to the Cubs while they were in Houston was not good luck, that's for sure. Spent time there with my college boyfriend and his parents, reminding me of the power of a prospective mother-in-law to turn the tide on a relationship by the mere prospect of spending the rest of one's holidays with her. Hoping to have a healthier relationship with the Cubs for the rest of the season, in which I have more balance in my life. :)

This heightened relationship with my favorite civil rights organization brings with it interesting speaking opportunities. A few weeks ago, I spoke to a group of Sikh teenagers about knowing their rights. Today I'm talking to a group of journalists from Bangladesh about anti-immigration legislation.

I read a book start to finish this weekend: John Wood's Leaving Microsoft to Change the World: An Entrepreneur's Odyssey to Educate the World's Children. It will probably not surprise you to know that I was enthralled by Wood's story of stepping off the Microsoft treadmill to found his own non-profit, which is now called Room to Read. I love their strategy, which is to work through heavy fundraising by both employees and chapters of volunteers to provide books, libraries, schools and scholarships for children. So far, they are in six Asian and two African countries. Another key aspect of their growth is that they only provide these items with a contribution from the local people, whether in the form of money or labor to build the buildings. This ensures an engagement and commitment to care for and expand upon their work. Wood's story, along with the success and positive approach to his business, is so inspiring.

The remainder of my weekend was taken up trying to move all of my digital photos to this laptop from my old laptop and storage device, a task much more difficult than it first appeared. But now I believe my digital photos are all in one place. Here is an example of what I now have access to:



Have a wonderful week!

Here is what you need to know about Chicago Cubs fans.

Tonight, the team lost to the Mets in a game that could have put us into first place. But the game was special for another reason--Mets pitcher Tom Glavine became the 23rd man ever to reach 300 major league pitching victories. And after the game, Cubs fans chanted, "TOM-my GLAV-ine!", loudly and with feeling. We care about our Cubs. But we also love the game of baseball and its history. That, my friends, is the essence of a Cubs fan.

I'm off to Houston tomorrow afternoon, to watch my Cubs play the Astros three times. I am delighted by the prospect of the road trip (I'm literally driving to Houston) and feel like a kid going to a summer baseball game. Oh, wait--I am a kid going to a summer baseball game! I'll be wearing this new jersey, having reconciled myself to the fact that Mark Prior, whose Cubs jersey I have worn for years, is not coming back anytime soon, if ever.



Wish us luck!

Inspiration from The Playmaker

Typically, baseball is the only sport that can bring a tear to my eye. But this morning, I found tears flowed freely while reading Michael Irvin's NFL Hall of Fame acceptance speech, given in Canton this weekend.

Here's a snippet, but you should read the whole thing:

I sat right here where you are last year and I watched the Class of 2006: Troy Aikman, Warren Moon, Harry Carson, Rayfield Wright, John Madden, and the late great Reggie White represented by his wife Sara White. And I said, Wow, that's what a Hall of Famer is.

Certainly I am not that. I doubted I would ever have the chance to stand before you today. So when I returned home, I spoke with Michael and Elijah . I said, That's how you do it, son. You do it like they did it. Michael asked, he said, Dad, do you ever think we will be there? And I didn't know how to answer that. And it returned me to that threshing floor. This time I was voiceless, but my heart cried out. God, why must I go through so many peaks and valleys?

I wanted to stand in front of my boys and say, Do it like your dad, like any proud dad would want to. Why must I go through so much?

At that moment a voice came over me and said, Look up, get up, and don't ever give up. You tell everyone or anyone that has ever doubted, thought they did not measure up or wanted to quit, you tell them to look up, get up and don't ever give up.

Supposedly, Irvin delivered this inspirational speech without even using prepared notes. Amazing!

You can't make them.

A few months ago, some friends and I attended a Bright Eyes concert in Dallas. I already loved Bright Eyes from their "I'm Wide Awake It's Morning" album (is it still called an album?), but my friends were Bright Eyes novices. Excited to introduce them to the wonderfulness, I said, "I want you to love it!" while one of my favorite songs was being played. A tall, nice looking young man standing nearby said gently, "But you can't make them love it."



It was one of those kinds of quotes that has stayed with me, even though I typically have a terrible memory for such things.

Only in Texas and O Happy Day News

Only in Texas:

Newspaper subscribers are about to receive Bibles with their papers. Yes, you read that correctly: Bibles. What do you think about that?

I find it silly, bordering on offensive, but this guy quoted in the story, does not:

"It's disappointing that anyone would object to getting a Bible, which is the best read book in the whole world and has been for hundreds of years. They have the right to do with it what they want to," he said. "Do they object to getting a bag of Quaker oatmeal or Tide detergent or an AOL disc?"

On a related note, this spoiler from Joshua Newman made me laugh.

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O Happy Day:

Team W L Pct GB
CUBS 57 49 .538 -
Milwaukee58 50 .537 -
St. Louis 50 54 .481 6.0
Houston 46 61 .430 11.5
Cincinnati 45 63 .417 13.0
Pittsburgh43 62 .410 13.5

The Clearest View Yet: An Update!

After appealing to a higher power the decision I complained about below, that decision was reversed! As of today, I am the new General Counsel for my favorite civil rights organization in the state where I live. And I cannot imagine feeling happier or more fulfilled!

Goodbye to a Houston legend

R.I.P., Marvin Zindler.



If you didn't know him, you will not be sorry that you took a minute to read about him.

The Clearest View Yet.

Today I learned that my firm will not permit me to accept the expanded (but still volunteer) role offered to me by the statewide version of my favorite civil rights group. It was a flashy title and I feel so honored that they offered it to me. I wanted so badly to be able to accept. The reason the firm gave is a vague, bullsh*t version of "Not that I have any problem with [Your Civil Rights Organization], but gee, what if a client got mad about it?" It doesn't matter that the new role is, if anything, less visible than my current role--the title sounds important and relevant and that is all they needed to hear.

After my initial flash of anger subsided, an unexpected sense of peace came over me. I realized this makes my decision easy. It is not a decision I will act on tomorrow, or probably even next month, maybe not even within the year. But it is a decision that I now see as inevitable. I feel excited, not disappointed. This is what I am meant to do and if my firm has to (albeit completely unintentionally) push me out the door to do it, so be it. I am patient and focused and I now know that my dream is possible and I will make it come true.

Educational Video

Do you think this will help us educate people on their civil rights related to cop abuse?

Beautiful Flower

Focusing on the lovely parts of life . . .

Contented

The last three days have been a whirlwind. I spent two of them in San Antonio on business that included several very intense meetings. However, I stayed with friends there and had a lovely evening with them and their kiddos. Arrived home last night, to complete preparations for today. "Today" entailed a 6:00 a.m. visit to the office and a 7:30 a.m. flight to Lubbock, followed by a day's worth of deposition, from which I just returned.

Typically, this would leave me feeling exhausted and worrying about what awaits me at the office. But I feel calm, on top of it and satisfied that I have done solid work for my clients over the last three days. And while doing that, I have somehow touched base with the humanity I have felt was lacking.

As I'm fond of saying, these are baby steps . . . but important ones!

An update from the trenches of depression

Just wanted to post a brief update. I'm sorry I haven't been posting more, but my attention has been turned so far inward lately that I have had little of interest to offer anyone, unless you are charmed by self-analysis mixed with serious mood swings.

I am perplexed by the level of unhappiness I am experiencing, because "on paper," my life is amazingly full. I should be on cloud nine given all the good things in my life, not the least of which are the rapid expansion of my responsibilities related to my favorite civil rights organization, recent work successes, my wonderful and supportive friends and the ability to indulge my beloved baseball and travel passions on a not infrequent basis. So why will I not permit myself to feel happiness, even taking action or inaction that seems destined to ensure my unhappiness?

This weekend, I read a book called "Living a Life that Matters" by Rabbi Harold S. Kushner. After being immersed in his introductory chapters and their focus on integrity and the need to live a life that matches "who we are," I found myself skimming the passages about the Bible. I haven't completely given up on the idea of God, but the Bible does not feel to me like the place where either God or the key to unlocking this existential crisis may be found. I quickly realized that I do not need a book to know that the legacy I am creating right now is not the one I want to leave behind.

Sadly, it seemed as if I stumbled upon an epiphany--at least a partial one--while watching an old episode of my beloved Sex and the City series, in which Carrie accuses Miranda of being so judgmental that she simply cuts out of her life the people who disappoint her. It doesn't take a television critic to see that Miranda imposes those same exacting standards on herself, serving as her own worst critic. Surely, my life would be lighter and happier if I could loosen up, both on others and myself. I believe I have done that to some extent in recent months, but certainly not enough. I feel haunted and overwhelmed by the number of broken or simply faded relationships with family, friends and others who matter to me. The prospect of rebuilding those bridges is a daunting one, even if it is possible to do so, which I am not sure is the case.

Last night I caught up with my friend J. who, upon hearing a few anecdotes from my life over the last few weeks, insisted that I immediately make three (not just one--three) appointments over the next week with a trusted advisor who has helped me in the past. This may have scared me more than anything else that has happened recently, but it also gave me hope that J. thinks there is help to be found. I need to hope for that, too, as the foregoing clearly indicates that this is bigger than me.

Just musing . . .

Another exciting Sunday . . . photos of dogs and a master bathroom

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Cool video.

This video explains the anatomy of a home run, from a physics perspective:



Via Susan at "Kiss My Big Blue Butt," a lady in the true style of Ann Richards, Molly Ivins and those who love them.

Zoo Visit!

More pictures here.

Things I miss about home

1. corn fields stretching as far as the eye can see
2. quiet, cool basements
3. nice Midwestern people with funny accents
   
4. a slower pace, a simpler life
5. knowing the back roads like the back of my hand
6. spending time with people who have known me for my entire life
7. being able to identify which family lived in every house on my street
8. exploring out of sight corners of my little town
9. the old library that was my home away from home
10. Tastee Treet soft-serve ice cream cones

It probably isn't a sign of success

when a person drives home from work on a Friday night, tears streaming down her face, because she cannot think of a way to kill herself that will not endanger her dogs or cause others to experience pain.

Past that now. But desperate to find some way to be happy. Sooner rather than later.

Happy Fourth of July!

I am feeling a bit wordless at the moment, so I'll leave you with these quick thoughts:

Here is a funny little combination of patriotism and baseball.

You've got to love Josh Marshall's quote, "Paris Hilton did more time than Scooter Libby." Do you feel grateful on this most patriotic of national holidays for the freedom of privileged white men, especially those who perjure themselves, in light of Scooter Libby's commutation of his prison sentence and, possibly, of his supervised release as well?

Have you noticed that the Chicago Cubs have now won 9 of their last 10 games? Go, Cubs!

Happy 11th Birthday, my little Kip!

Searching one's soul

Something happened last night that caused me to slow down and think. I can't talk about the specifics, but they probably are not that important anyway.

What is important is that before searching my soul, I had to locate it. I have never felt more out of touch with who I really am. I have never felt more out of control of my life. I have never felt more strongly that I must stop doing things that sabotage my effectiveness, happiness and well-being. Unbelievably, one aspect of last night's situation--running unexpectedly and improbably into an old friend who helped to make it so much better than it otherwise would have been--even made me seriously rethink my agnosticism. Miracles certainly will never cease.

I am not writing this so you all, kind-hearted people you are, can tell me not to be so hard on myself. In fact, I agree with you. One way to be less hard on myself is to stop doing things, or not doing things, that directly cause my life to be harder.

I spent all of today sleeping, thinking and freshening the one bit of the world I felt I had control over today: my bedroom/bathroom. I feel the need to slow down and do one thing at a time, think carefully and be true to myself. I will try very hard to do that during the busy work week, which is much harder than on a lazy, rainy Sunday.



Flower at Seattle's Volunteer Park Conservatory, by me, June 2007.