Ten on Thursday (or, shut up at least I update)

Don't You Worry 'bout a Thing, or sometimes you just can't explain it
I love my classes at the gym. I've resigned myself to the fact that Laurel's Hip-Hop class is a bit too advanced for my 43-year-old feet, but Donna's Salsa-Funk on Monday nights just gives me so much joy. And sometimes, the music she chooses is almost too perfect, like she's reading my mind. "Since You 'Been Gone" the week the divorce was final. "Don't You Worry 'bout a Thing" when finances weigh heavy on my mind. There are moments when it's all I can do to not weep openly in the middle of class. There are other moments when I just let the tears fall. It's so freeing, so cathartic, and I'm surrounded by friends, by amazing energy that fills my soul while moving soothes my body. It's amazing. Come visit me on a Monday night, and we'll go together. It will change your life.

You Can't Always Get What You Want, or this is gonna need to be taken in
I need new clothes. I have no money. Today I am wearing pants that I can take off without unbuttoning them. They sag in all the wrong places. So this weekend, I'm getting out the sewing machine. I can't really wear them like this anymore, so if I ruin them while trying to re-make them, oh well, right? While I'm at it, I may add belt loops to my too-big jacket so maybe it won't look so ridiculous. I know it's a good problem to have, but I can't really embrace it with a new wardrobe ... so I'll simply adjust things as I can, and the world will just have to understand.

Sleep Like a Baby, or slumber is an elusive bitch
I've been having a rough time sleeping. Went a couple nights without much in the way of actual rest, and those of you who know me also know that this is a recipe for disaster. No amount of coffee can make up for it. It's just ... bad! So last night, I unhooked from the world. I didn't go to the gym (although I did walk at lunchtime,) and I made myself a wonderful dinner - blackened salmon, rice (not Rice,) peas and broccoli, with a glass of white wine and a glass of water. I served myself at the table with a beautiful place setting, cloth napkin and some light reading. Listening to Nickel Creek, I relaxed into my meal. After dinner, I ran a hot bath with oodles of bubbles and candles and more music, and at 8 p.m., I shut off the phone. No computer. No television. No phone. Just me and a book to read and paper on which to write. In the quiet, I'm able to hear myself think. It was wonderful. I will be doing more of that for myself over time.

Somewhere Only We Know, or hit the road, Mags
I have a horrible hankering for travel and the budget to maybe vacation in Schaumburg. These run at rather definite cross purposes in my life. I long to camp in the Grand Canyon, cruise the Mediterranean, eat my way through Italy and see Mt. Rainier once again. Instead I will likely enjoy some time at my friend Amber's in Lake Geneva. And that's okay, because a little time a bit away from home is better than nothing. But that won't stop me from checking out travel books at the library and dreaming of where I'll go next. Wanna come along?

Like the Way I Do, or shut up and let me write!
I'm a reasonable person. Okay, most of the time. And in a perfect world, I would work in a little office with mocha-colored walls and a comfy chair overlooking the Caribbean. It's not a perfect world, so I work in a cubicle that wants to be in France (complete with the Eiffel Tour lamp) and the din of craziness all around. But for the love of Pete, stop asking questions. "Do we capitalize the W in Web?" "Is Hostess a proper noun?" "Do we call it National Conference or just Conference?" Any of these questions could be answered by checking the corporate style guide. Which I wrote. So you would stop asking me. But asking out loud every 10 minutes or so is easier than looking it up. It just isn't the most comfortable working environment for moi. I know not everyone works the way I do ... some of you thrive in noisy newsroom surroundings. But that's not me, so if you really need me, tap on my shoulder because I'm wearing headphones.

How Do You Like Me Now, or the cellulite polka
Over the past 12 months or so, I've really done well as far as my health is concerned. I started off with about 100 pounds to lose, and I've taken off about 50, so half of what needs to go is gone. But half remains. *sigh*. Not gonna beat myself up - it's been a good year, and we're trending in the right direction - but damn, I really do need to kick the plan into gear again. So this week, with the help and encouragement of good friends, I have once again started logging my food and activity. I've continued walking almost every day at lunch - even yesterday, when it was damn cold outside! So I'm thinking one solid habit each week or so to get me back in the swing. This week: Water. Getting my eight glasses a day is a challenge, but I'm remembering Ryan's advice: Get out of bed (or "attack the day" as he puts it) and drink a big glass before you do anything else. I'm trying.

Smooth, or free is a really good price
Linda, one of the managers at the best store in the universe, Lush, called me today to ask if I was still interested in coming in on Saturday for a free facial. "Is it okay if I don't spend money," I asked. Linda knows I'm poor. "Come on in!" she said. "You entertain us!" So at 2 p.m. on Saturday, my skin will be pampered, at no cost to me. Although I may have to get another one of those Karma bubble bars. Have you smelled me lately? Really, it's almost unfair.

Yes, I know, it's not ten, but it's something. Becky.

Something about the love of good friends

What an absolutely beautiful weekend. Blue sky, sunshine ... springtime is breathtaking here in Chicagoland. Winter is now officially behind us, and not a moment too soon.

I didn't do it on purpose, but it would seem as if this weekend was a time for me to not only remember how beautiful the world can be, but revel in the love of good friends.

On Friday night, Eric came over to have dinner and catch up. Although several conversations included the phrase "I swear, I will kick you in the head," we really had a marvelous visit. Too soon, it was time for Eric to head home (in Practically Iowa) but not before I promised I would spend part of my Saturday sitting in the yard drinking coffee and writing.

So when Saturday morning rolled around, I jumped into my jeans, threw on a sweater and brewed the coffee. On my way out the door, I wrapped a scarf around my neck, put on my sunglasses and a floppy hat and grabbed my basket of stuff to be returned to the library and headed out. Walking around town, sipping my coffee and reveling in the beauty of the day, I felt ... European. Really. My town doesn't feel like smalltown USA. I can walk to the market, the library, the movies, live theater, great food ... anything I want, I really can walk to. And with my basket and my scarf and my coffee, I felt like a character in a movie. You know, the end of the movie where the leading lady finally figures out that her life is just fine as it is so she takes off by herself on walkabout? That was my Saturday. It was a great day to be me.

Especially as night fell and Patrick called to say he was in the neighborhood and he was coming by to use the bathroom. Yes, I was the victim of a drive-by peeing. I haven't seen Patrick in months, and he swept in, hugged me, took brownies for the road, and he was gone. It doesn't take much, really, to fill me up with love. It's worth it just to squish his face and get a hug and look him in the eye and soak up who we are. If necessary, I'm set now for another month or so.

Then today, Amber drove down from Lake Geneva to spend the afternoon. We wandered around town, had lunch at the Grand, wandered a bit more, sat in the sun, shopped for shoes (she got two gorgeous pairs) and then she had to head home. So it's been an eventful weekend, filled with friends and me wandering about town and great food and walks down memory lane and brownies. Sometimes it's hard to believe that I have friends who will drive an hour or so just to spend time with me. Sometimes I wonder if I deserve that. But then I remember, I'm also the one they feel comfortable enough stopping by for a quick potty break, because they know they're always welcome. Besides, do we ever really deserve the people who love us, or do we just love them back?

In the final analysis, at least when it comes to my nearest and dearest, I think that's really quite fine.

Some on Tuesday

Do You Have to Let it Linger, or the jig is up
It's St. Patrick's Day, or if you're a Rathunde kid, Uncle Patrick's Day. I'm not Irish, but I am a Rathunde, so I celebrate. I enjoyed corned beef and cabbage over the weekend, and tonight I will toast myself with an icy glass of Bailey's while I settle in to nurse my sore knee (overdid it at the gym, perhaps?) If you've a hankering for a smashing cup of Irish coffee, come on by. But don't pinch me, lest I be tempted to prove I am wearing green.

Don't Stop Believin', or really, I can dance
I wanted to curl up and go fetal at the gym last night. Ever have one of those days when your coordination seems to have up and left? That was me, last night. I looked a little cute, but I just couldn't get my body to follow the required moves. I couldn't stand to look in the mirror, because a horribly uncoordinated girl would've been looking back. I left class a little early, because I'd reached the point of diminishing returns. But I stuck around, went to Salsa/Funk, and rocked my white suburban ass. Holler.

Gone Again, or every spring I feel it
One month from today will be the five-year anniversary of Mom's death. It sucked. And every spring, I remember watching spring training baseball with her, planning to go to a game when the regular season started. Plans that never quite panned out; there were other plans, bigger plans, I suppose. So each spring as that day approaches, I think about the people who helped me survive that time. People who loved me from Oregon, Tucson and California, from Wisconsin or the far away land I know as Jacksonville. And yes, even the ex gets a wee bit of credit here; he was my rock at that time. He held me up when I really thought I was going to fall apart.

Do I still miss her? Yes, but not in the same way. I still grieve for the unanswered questions, but I am at peace knowing that I've had amazing people at my side all the way.

Golden, or has it really been 12 years?
Twelve years ago I was in New Orleans. That's right ... by a stroke of luck, St. Patrick's Day fell over Spring Break in 1997. It was my good fortune to spend this week with some of the finest people on the planet. It was their bad fortune to get Headcase Maggie for the journey. But some of the time ... most of the time ... it was awesome and nearly perfect.

We spent a few days in Memphis with Grandma Rice, during which time I had the only real argument I've ever had with Mike. I'm sure neither one of us will ever forget it, or the fact that it solidified us as brother and sister. That's when we became family. All too soon, our time in Memphis was over, and we headed for New Orleans.

It was magical. We stayed in this awesome little guest house, Mike, Rae, Andrew and I, right in the middle of the French Quarter. I was so unsure of myself back then. How sad at age 29? I doubted everything. But I had to live through it, and once the hangover subsided and my friends were still there, loving me ... it just didn't seem to matter. We explored the city. We drank hurricanes. We played catch from our balcony down to the street. We appreciated the psychedelic mime. We ate croissants and beignets and drank coffee and loved each other. One of the best weeks of my life, some of my favorite memories ever. Sometimes it feels like such a long time ago, but I can still smell the frying oil at Cafe du Monde. I can still taste the chicory. And I can still feel the love.

Unwritten, or sorry, I've got nothing more to write
It's not that life is boring, really. It's just that I don't have ten things that beg to be told this week. I figure four solid stories are better than ten that kinda blow, so I'm just gonna leave it at that. Until next time, gentle reader, this'll have to do!

Anon

So last week, I had an interesting anonymous comment left to the blog.

Now, I don't like anonymous comments. I believe that if you're going to say something, you should own it. Say it out loud. Live out loud, ya know?

But this person elected anonymity, and I don't know or care who it was. That being said, however, I've chosen a rather small number of invited readers who can check in and read what I've got to say. Obviously, you're one of them. I'm sorry for the added annoyance of having to sign in, but I was at a point where I needed to either edit myself heavily, or limit readership to those who won't judge.

I chose the latter.

Thanks for being a positive influence in my life, for loving me and my flaws, and for being part of my life, out loud.

Divine spontaneity

It's been a week. Not just a week, mind you, but one of those weeks that seems to take more than five days hard work out of ya.

There's a woman in my office who always feels the need to edit my stuff, which would be fine except she likes to make changes for the sake of making changes. No, my copy's not wrong, she just likes to make her mark. It makes me want to rip off her head and spit down her neck.

So when Thursday night rolled around, I really needed a margarita. I also really needed to work out. How fortuitous that Cute Brian could meet me at Fuego, but not until around 8?

It felt good just to walk into the place. Some day, I want to hide in their bathroom until after the place is closed (gee, that sounds familiar) and just drink my way through the tequilas behind the bar. Bottle after bottle of perfect goodness! We ordered margaritas. Well, I did - CB instead ordered the girliest thing on the menu, a Rosa Colada. It's pink and shake-like; where'd I find this guy, anyway? So he proceeds to order this and then proclaim his deep desire to watch Ultimate Fighting on the television to the left of the bar.

To say the man is an enigma s a gross understatement.

We ordered nachos (delish!) and relaxed into our easy friendship. I love this guy. Laughing with him, telling each other what's going on in our lives ... it offers a distraction from the tough stuff and support to get me through it. It's also something we give away pretty freely, which is a good thing, because at 9 p.m. Shakespeare called, and we told her to join us.

She's smart, so she did. By now, CB and I were on our second 'rita each and Shakepeare quickly caught up, and ordered some mole-drenched goodness to boot. The conversation flowed, trains of thought were derailed and hilarity ensued. We laughed ourselves silly talking about the important and the mundane, and came up with a few important rules.

1) You can't choose where the magic is.
2) We're just some f#(%ed-up intergenerational not-for-profit.
3) Sometimes, to Choose Awesome is to Choose Commando.

When we all finally stumbled back to my place - because we were laughing so hard we could barely walk, not because we'd had a few too many - everyone came up to Chez Mags for more conversation, more laughs, and a nice coating of cat hair. I don't think any of us were quite ready to say goodnight yet, but soon enough it was time for them to head home and me to head to bed. But I couldn't drop off to sleep without thinking to myself how incredibly lucky I am to have friends who are willing to give in to my impulses and get their spontaneous groove on with me. The best of times are often made without plans.

And we all shine on

There are periods of time during which I lose motivation. Times when I don't feel creative, so it's hard to write. Times when I feel sluggish, so it's hard to get to the gym. Even times when I'm just cranky, so it's hard to be a good friend.

During those times, it's more important than ever to put my thoughts on paper, show up at the gym, and be with my friends. It takes more effort, but it is so worth it in the end.

Take last night, for example. I had a meeting after work, so I knew I wouldn't get to the gym until late. Plus, there's been some emotional stuff on my plate and it's been hard to be my best self, to put on the stretchy pants and shake my groove thing. But I keep showing up, knowing that when I leave I will feel better than when I arrived.

Last night I got on the elliptical trainer and turned on my "Shut Up and Sweat" playlist, set to play at random. The playlist is made up of songs that make me feel good, have enough beats per minute to get me going at a steady clip, and make the workout positive. The first song that came up? "Instant Karma" by John Lennon.

Who in the hell do you think you are?
A superstar? Well, right you are!
Well we all shine on
like the moon and the stars and the sun
Well we all shine on
Everyone, come on!

You couldn't wipe the smile off my face. It was a perfect moment in which the music and my soul were in perfect sync. Regardless of my problems and issues and emotions, I could choose to rise above. I could Choose Awesome.

The trend continued. Everything that randomly popped up fed into the already amazing feeling. "Mercy" by Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers, with its chorus of "You already shine ... " reminding me of what Lennon said; "Read My Mind" by the Killers - "Woman, open the door, don't let it sting, I wanna breathe that fire again." And yeah, "Bring Me to Life" by Evanescence, inspiring me to move and tapping into my ... um ... very female side at the same time. Song after song guided me through an amazing hour. Six miles, 700 calories, pure heaven.

And then I ran into Shakespeare in the locker room. We did a little catching up while she got ready to head upstairs for her workout, and it served as a reminder that we're all in this together. We may have tough days, but we can still listen. It's funny, but my friends are teaching me how to be a better friend. I'm better at being there for them, because they're there for me. I'm able to show them the positive side, because they've shown it to me. And yeah, sometimes I even believe that I'm pretty Awesome because they thought so first.

So it's true what Lennon said ... we all shine on.

Ten on Tuesday

1) Smell the Roses, or wow ... you seriously smell good
Shakespeare took me to my favorite store for the first time on Saturday. Lush, purveyors of everything wonderful, has transformed my life. Or at least my sense of smell. She treated me to seriously good Karma (my new signature scent) in the form of soap, shampoo and bubblebath. Get your nose over here - you're not going to believe it!

2) Shut Up and Drive, or sorry 'bout the hole in the pavement
Saturday was a very Shakespeare day. After we selected new running shoes for her (from a guy named Hakuna Matata at Dick's Sporting Goods) we went back to Chez Shakespeare for wine, cheese, chocolate and bubble bath. Yes, it's true. Then, she graciously drove to St. Charles where we met up with Acoustic Alternatives, people we both know but not part of our collective past. Eric was there with his friend Jeff, and the whole crazy group of us had a fantastic time, right down to the pizza and the chillin' and the music videos on Jeff's lovely television. It wasn't until the drive home - in the wee small hours of Sunday morning, in the rain - that things took a turn. Jess' tire didn't fully deflate until Sunday afternoon, but there it was. Damned potholes. But we were thankful we made it home safe.

3) Here Comes the Rain Again, or have you heard spring lately?
It's raining right now. It rained last night. And after months of snow and ice, the rain is a welcome change. I love water; sometimes, when life feels crappy, I'll symbolically bathe. Wash the bad stuff away, ya know? Or I'll take a walk in the rain, or share a quick goodnight kiss in the rain, or just sit and watch it fall outside my window. It brings wonderful, beautiful things, this rain. Sound sleep, peaceful thoughts and ... dare I say it? ... May flowers.

4) Workin' for a Livin', or hey, aren't you supposed to be dead?
Remember a few years ago on 24 when Edgar died? Well, a new guy started at my office on Monday. His name is Edgar. Swear to God, I can't call him by his name, because he's pretty much dead to me. I can't keep a straight face, it just makes me laugh.

5) Almost Like a Song, or sometimes I just can't get it together
My niece Aubri participated in a vocal competition last Saturday. These are the things aunties are supposed to be at; events at which I'm supposed to cheer. But recent events involving my car and my checkbook have caused me to consider very carefully the wisdom of travelling too far from home, so I sent my spirit instead. And ya know what? The little shit kicked vocal ass, and she's going to compete at the state level. At age 14. Sadly, she's not a blood relative, so it will be hard to take credit. But I'm still gonna try.

6) As Time Goes By, or what's the point in what if?
There are so many things that I wonder about, playing the "what if" game. What if I hadn't gone to Madison for 4th of July in 1998? What if I hadn't tried out for the fall play in ninth grade? What if I hadn't thrown Mike the keys, or learned to make margaritas, or stayed out until dawn in the parking lot of the pizza joint? What if I'd gotten my Master's, learned to drive stick shift, had the nerve to call him?

The answer is always the same: things would be different. Not necessarily better, or worse, just different. For now, I am content to realize that everything is as it should be, that the choices I make day to day are pretty much on target with who I want to be, and what if really doesn't get me anywhere. For the most part, it's a pretty stellar life. Ya can't go back, so ya might as well go forward, run down the hill, careening forward into whatever the future brings, knowing that the people you choose to share it with will be there with a margarita and a high-five and a hug.

7) Mexico, or please quench my thirst for travel
I've been writing a lot lately about Mexico, because that's where our company incentive trip will be headed next year. It pulls at me ... that need to get a stamp in the passport, to see the world, to open myself up to the possibilities of what's around the bend. For now, I have to be content knowing that I won't be going further than Geneva for vacation any time soon, but I will dream. And in my dreams, I have terrific red luggage and a traveling companion who makes my toes curl.

Back off; this is my dream.

8) Hey, Jealousy, or yeah, I think it'd be all right if you crash here tonight
I've said it before, and I'm surely not done ... I love that I have friends who will come over and make themselves at home. They know that what's mine is theirs, whether that's the bathtub (although please leave my awesome Karma bubbles for me!) or the coffee or the couch. On your first visit, you're a guest. After that, you're family. Move in. Stay. Nap. Nosh. Just be.

9) Take Good Care of My Baby, or how 'bout a little good health around here?
My CharlieDad isn't kicking anyone these days thanks to an infection in his leg. My sister Jenn's white cell count went haywire since her last appointment with the good doctor two months ago. So come on, folks ... nobody else have anything go wrong, at least for a little while.

10) Summer Breeze, or "I'll take what I'm not feeling for $500, Alex"
The window is still duct taped in the up position, and will be for the foreseeable future. On the upside, I can see out of it, and my car isn't full of water. I'll take it.

Ghetto fabulous

Driving home from work yesterday, spring was there. No longer taunting like a teenager playing hard-to-get, this time she was there, right on the other side of my car window. So I did what any other red-blooded Midwesterner would do: I rolled my window down a wee bit. And when I needed a little less springtime air, I hit the button to roll the window back up.

ZhhhhhggggNO. Seriously, that's the sound it made as it took the window all ... the ... way ... down. So I called my dad and left a message. Really, what could he do from 40 miles away? Honestly, it was a little bit funny, right? And the humor wasn't lost on me. Neither, however, was the rain in the forecast. Needed a solution.

Call Cute Brian.

Riding in on the white horse is not his style. However, reassuring me that, one way or another, getting the window covered was in the cards, most definitely. So he came over, looking devastatingly handsome in the summer haircut and crisply pressed work duds. Seriously, he's not known as Cute Brian because he's ugly. Anyway, we run to the hardware store for duct tape and plastic, and we're gonna patch that puppy up. But instead, Maggie has a stroke of genius: needle-nose pliers. I wedge them down into the doorframe, and pull up the offending glass.

Hot damn, the girl does something right!

A little duct tape later, it's (almost) as good as new. It looks a little odd, held in place as it is by copious amounts of duct tape. It doesn't roll down, so drive-through windows and/or drive-up ATMs are a thing of the past. But there's enough going on in my life right now that a little thing like a malfunctioning car window isn't even on my radar.

Some day, I'll get it fixed. Or at least find out how much I'm gonna need to save before I can afford to get it fixed. But for the time being, I'm tooling around town in a very loud, very fabulous 1998 Jeep Cherokee.

Ghetto fabulous, John calls it. No, it's Maggie Fabulous. It's what you do when life hands you limes: you make margaritas.

Ten on Tuesday's Almost Over

1. We are Family, or who are all these people?
The weekend offered opportunities to spend time with people I love. Most of them happened - including a relaxing time with Clan Rice/Carlson/Bathje and spending a lazy Sunday at my Dad's house, mooching his washing machine and a little lunch along the way. At each of these visits, I was greeted at the door with hugs and love. I can't help but be touched by the way these people love me, whether my blood runs through their veins or not. Put us in a room together, and we'll be the ones loving each other.

One of those opportunities was a miss. I didn't make it to Patrick's mom's for dinner on Sunday; wires were crossed, numbers were lost and contact wasn't made. I hate missing his birthday, because he always works so hard to make mine special. Perhaps, this year, it simply wasn't meant to be.

2. They Say It's Your Birthday, or shake it John!
Today is my Johnny PB's birthday. I adore him. He surrounds me with love. Last night at the gym, Donna called him up on the stage to dance with her doing one of the last numbers of the night. I could watch him dance for a living! He's adorable. He has a groove thing, and he knows how to shake it. I am so glad he's my friend. Happy birthday, my darling John!

3. Something in the Way She Moves, or did you say dainty?
Shakespeare made it for the second half of Hip-Hop last night. Holler! We learned a new routine, and then finished off the one from last week that almost killed me. I work really hard in class. I also fail a lot, but it's so much fun I just don't give a damn. So I finish a combination last night, end in such a way that reduces me to gales of laughter and Shakespeare tells me the way I move is dainty. No one has ever referred to anything remotely concerning me as "dainty" before in my entire life. I am marking this on the calendar.

4. Suddenly I See, or I'll be damned, I can grow.
Not much new on the financial front, except I know I am improving my situation. By summer I will no longer be living paycheck-to-paycheck. Last year at this time, I tackled my health - getting better physically for my own well-being. This year, it's my financial health. Each day, the picture becomes clearer. My future is going to be bright, even if I got a late start.

5. Heart in Hand, or brother can you spare me a couch?
I started back in therapy last week. I have some grief issues that are still hanging around after the many losses over the last several years, and I don't necessarily feel the way I handled them was the healthiest it could have been. I feel capable of the work it will take to return to a healthier emotional state. It's a good feeling.

6. I Get By With a Little Help from My Friends, or thanks for pulling me back from the ledge.
Simply put, I have the greatest network of friends that have ever been bestowed upon a human in the history of the world. When Jeannie, my therapist, asked me about my support network, I started to cry, because I didn't know where to begin. One of the things I am committed to is getting better at allowing you to help me through the tough times. Thank you in advance for picking up the phone.

7. Seasons of Love, or please can we put the top down?
Spring is out there; I can smell it! So I know that, some day before too long, Cute Brian is going to call and we're going to take a drive when it's still not quite warm enough to be out with the top down, but we'll wear jackets and turn up the heat and manage as long as we can. Springtime is a fickle mistress, and I am taken by her every year. Please, come back to me!

8. The Weight, or does the scale trend the right way?
The Beautiful Helene this week told me she could tell I'm losing weight. Sadly, I don't see it. The scale doesn't agree. But I'll take it. I'll accept that as her assessment, and soak up the good feelings that come with it.

9. Already Gone, or bite me, I'm tired.
I know this is only nine, but it's been quite a day in quite a week, and I'm tired so I'm turning in. Thanks for reading, thanks for loving me. Send cheese.

Shake it up

My little world is a snowglobe this morning. On my way to work, the flakes were swooping and wooshing past me in a way that made me feel giddy and child-like. The photo doesn't do it justice, but it gives you some idea of what it's like to live in my snowglobe!

A most uncommon life

I've been taking more than my share of lumps lately. Sometimes, it seems, the universe stacks the deck against me in an attempt to see what I'm made of. It's given me gallbladder pain, financial woe, grieving friends and overwhelming emotional responses to all the above.

It has also, however, given me old friends who bring me cheese and let me cry, new friends who make me laugh at how preposterous it all is, family members who spend their commute catching up with me, offers to take me to lunch from 70 miles away, chicken and dumplings among the finest people in the world (regardless of whether it was bleeding or not) and an ex-wife-in-law who won't let me shoulder the tough stuff on my own.

Yeah, I'd say this is an uncommon life, for sure.

I returned to therapy last week, and during my appointment, Jeannie (that's the therapist; no, I'm not talking to Barbara Eden, circa 1967) asked me about my support network. And as I was describing it - you - to her, it washed over me ... the truth of who my support is. It's friends, it's family, it's friends who've become family. It's actors and Marines and writers and designers.

"Do you have people you can call when life spirals out of control?" Jeannie asked. "Several," I said, thinking of each of you and how you make up the most amazing buffet of lunatics and loved ones I've ever known.

So, consider this your warning: I've learned my lesson, and I understand that I don't need to support the universe squarely between my shoulders. I can, on occasion, pass it along to you, and allow you to hang onto it until I'm better equipped to pick it up again.

And, from time to time, I look forward to holding onto it for you, too.