Month: November, 2012


Boundaries: I never knew what they were. Never even thought about them, if you want to know the truth. Growing up, the youngest of six, with two parents—and a grandfather at one point—in a tiny, tiny house, one does not get much privacy. Or an idea of boundaries.
I credit Becky Shank with teaching me about boundaries. However, like one who comes to a realization later in life, I have to think about setting boundaries; it doesn’t come naturally. I am lost in admiration of those who can set them easily and without much thought. Kudos to you.


Microsoft Word: An Appreciation

I grew up, in a way, with Microsoft Word. I’ve learned its ways, its ins and outs. I have my favorite features. Now that I blog, I love Word Count—it makes my life so easy. Thesaurus—my best friend. Cut, copy, paste—they have such simple beauty. Insert. View. What more could one ask for?
I never wanted to love something created under Bill Gates—he IS the EVIL EMPIRE—but love sometimes happen where you don’t want it. I didn’t have another love before Word—no WordPerfect, no AppleScript—just Word, my first love. Love of my life.


What will happen to happenstance? Shall we ring the death knell for the happy coincidence?
When I read the newspaper every morning I scan it to see what’s going on in the world. Sometimes I come across a story that catches my eye, piques my interest, and I read.
At the library, I peruse the shelves, searching for something that interests me. Sometimes what I want to read is the book that catches my eye—whether it be the cover or the author or the size or the title. You never know.
In our world of cyber-everything, happenstance doesn’t happen.

Not a Thanksgiving Essay

Sometimes I have bad thoughts. They may be so bad I don’t even want to admit them to myself, never mind say them out loud to anyone else. Maybe my therapist, but even that is iffy.
Emailing with Nancy a few weeks ago I confessed some of these thoughts. Her reaction was mild and reassuring. She told me, “Not being Catholic I don’t feel guilty about having bad thoughts. As long as I don’t act on them.”
Geez. When is the Catholic girl in me going to fade away (die?)? When will I be fully free?
Be gone already, girl!

Small Town Girl

I love small-town America although I’ve never lived there. I’ve lived in suburbia and city, never small town. Yet I have the idea of small town life in my head.
In a picture of Miriam and Drew as cheerleaders I fantasize they are in a small town, but they are right here in urban DC.
When I go to the polls to cast my vote, I visit with neighbors I haven’t seen in months and pretend that I live in a small town.
I’m a city girl; I know it. So, why this fascination with small-town life? Connection, baby, connection.

On Being a Bitch

When I was in high school, I think that I had a bit of a reputation for being a bitch. I hated it. I tried to explain to people that I was just saying what I thought. Oh, the horror of speaking one’s mind—especially in high school.
Now, I peruse Pinterest and the word “bitch” is all over the place and proud of it. This morning it was “Yes, I am a bitch and I smile when I conquer.” I still don’t like it. That is NOT me. But, yes, I still speak my mind. I can’t help it.

Friday, November 9, 2012

I got nothin’ this week. Many of you are suffering or helping others who suffer. People are cold, hungry, living in emergency shelters, out of gas, out of hope. Me—I’ve had an ordinary lousy week. Annoyed at coworkers. Confused about relationships. Worried about finances. Run of the mill stress that people in NY and NJ might be happy to take on.

I’ve buried myself away from the bad news, but this morning’s paper had the scorched landscape of Breezy Point front and center. It reminded me of the Ninth Ward in 2006. Sometimes life is too much, too cruel.

Guilt and Regret: Part Three

En Finale (I’m done):
I have guilt—huge guilt. So big that it can take up a lot of space—in my brain and in my heart, making them both ache.
I have regrets. Big regrets. Things that I would do differently if I could go back with the wisdom I have now.
Yet, I have learned from many of my mistakes. They make me the woman that I am today. So how could I change them? Life would be no easier.
I like the me that I am today. I channel Adele: “Regrets and mistakes, they are memories made.”

Guilt and Regret: Part Two

The second thought:
Are regrets the natural outcome of guilt? A long-ago boss/friend said, “I don’t believe in regrets.”
Again, I ask, how is that possible? Regrets just ARE; you don’t conjure them, they simply exist. Like your feet. They are, whether you want them to be or not. (For me, anyway.)

What I have come to understand with age: it is what you do with your regrets that matters.
Ben and I debated this and we agreed to agree:
It’s okay to have regrets in life as long as you learn from them and don’t let them cripple you.

Guilt and Regret: A Series of Three 100 Words

To Begin:

Guilt has been my companion from the very start. I don’t remember a day when he (he?) was not by my side, coloring my actions and decisions. Perhaps guilt was born the very same day at the very same time that I was. Maybe we were twins.

My brother one day said, “I don’t believe in guilt.”

You might as well say, “I don’t believe in air.” I can no more NOT believe in guilt than I can not believe in my own existence, the existence of the sky, the beauty of the earth. I envy his freedom.