It happens every September. That
moment when I notice how the sky has taken on a brilliant blue hue that happens
only in fall. The angle of the sun hits in a way that makes everything glow.
The air takes on a crispness even when the temps are high.
It’s at that moment each year when
my heart sings, full of joy I can hardly contain. Maybe it’s because I was born
in October, but fall has always been my favorite season. The world seems at its
When I entered my 40s two years
ago, I ...
universe is at it again. This time in the form of an out-of-the-blue call from
a former colleague I haven’t spoken with in more than a year. He and another
former coworker were in town on business and wanted to see if I might be able
to get together for a drink or dinner.
It was a
last-minute request, and my schedule wouldn’t allow for it. Still, we chatted
for about 20 minutes, and it felt great to catch up. We’d survived some
difficult work challenges together over the years, and I realized how much I ...
When my husband suggested a staycation
earlier this year, I was skeptical—and a bit bitter about the prospect. It’s
been a number of years since we’ve had what I would call a vacation getaway.
However, a backyard vacation made the
most sense given that we didn’t want to leave our aging cat alone for an extended
period of time, and we have a basement we want to remodel this year. So we set
some ground rules: no checking in with work, no excessive computer use, lots of
dining out so there wouldn’t be a kitchen ...
It’s been four months since I wrote a
blog post—and here’s why. I’ve been searching for the elusive key to happiness.
Now that I’ve found it, I can share. The key (at least for me) is boundaries.
Sadly, boundaries are my Achilles
heel—and I’ve developed one hell of an aching foot (not just because of my
plantar fasciitis flare up). In fact, due to my inability to erect boundaries,
my entire body is suffering and so are my mind, the cleanliness of my house, my
friendships, my family and my own happiness.
Anyone who’s known me for more than a
week probably knows I am a bookworm. Give me an hour of precious free time, and
I’ll quickly bury my head in the world of words.
It took years before my husband
finally realized that when I’m deep in a good story, he no longer exists to me.
And should he persist in trying to get my attention, he deserves the fury he
may unleash for pulling me so cruelly back to reality.
One of my best childhood memories was
the regular trips to the public library with my ...