The Blog

What’s next?
July 11, 2018

It is very scary to overhaul your life and anyone who tells you it isn’t is a liar. When I got frightened I made a list of things I could do to advance my dream. The list was filled with tiny things -- make one phone call, send two eMails, whatever. But I didn’t freeze up.

If I was so hysterical I couldn’t even make a list, I cleaned the bathroom. It’s hard to worry really successfully when you’re cleaning the bathroom. After it was sparkling I was probably not one bit closer to my dream. But at least I had a clean bathroom.

That’s New York City librarian turned Florida harpist Mary Jane Ballou, demonstrating a principle called “the next right thing.” Big changes are scary because they’re big, duh. So break them down. Tackle those smaller steps the same way you eat an elephant -- one bite at a time.

When you’re making a big change, a friend once suggested, focus on what hasn’t changed. One thing that never changes is what you have to work with -- this moment, and this moment only. Dig into it with enough abandon and the future might take care of itself.

I never fancied myself the kind of person who would beg for drugs when I had a baby. Even back then I was almost as health-conscious as it was possible to be. I wanted to be awake for the experience, really awake, feeling everything.

I got my wish, even though I’d quickly changed my wish once I realized how much labor hurt. The hospital in my small town wasn’t set up for epidurals. I’m glad I didn’t know that until the big day. I would’ve dreaded the big day. I wanted to feel everything, as I mentioned, but I wanted the option of opting out of that feeling. By not knowing I wouldn’t have it, I accidentally proved ignorance really is bliss.

When the contractions started in earnest and I had a better feel for how painful this time would be, I made a dandy decision. I powered through them with the goal of Darrell not noticing I was having them! It worked. A few hours later the nurses told me I was making this look easy.

It hadn’t been easy, and the difficult part was only the beginning. Katie was born, appropriately, sunnyside up. But mastering phase one gracefully gave me a lot of confidence for phase two.

I chose how I wanted to look back on this most important afternoon in the life, and that choice transformed the experience. Crying and complaining wouldn’t have helped, after all. I let myself feel what I was feeling -- ouch, ouch, and more ouch!! -- but I didn’t spoil anyone else’s day.

It wasn’t so much that I pulled it off. It was realizing the memory I made was largely up to me.

Magic.

What is heaven?
July 5, 2018

Have you ever stopped to consider how much beauty there is in longing?

City SlickersIn the movie City Slickers, Curly -- played to Oscar-winning perfection by Jack Palance -- tells Billy Crystal’s character, Mitch, about being in love once. He was driving a herd across the Panhandle, and saw a woman working in a field about sundown. She stood up to stretch her back. She was wearing a little cotton dress, and the setting sun behind her showed off her figure.

Mitch wanted to know what happened, and Curly told him he just turned around and rode away: “I figured it wasn’t going to get any better than that.”

Mitch was incredulous. “You could’ve been with her.” Curly said he’d been with lots of women.

“Yeah,” Mitch countered. “But she could’ve been the love of your life.”

And Curly said, “She is.”

I get this little ache inside when I think about that. Don’t you?

Stale Cheetos. Fruity Pebbles. And coffee. If I wrote a million billion words I don’t know if I could adequately communicate how much I love -- and miss -- those three things. In that order.

Try it sometime. Slice open a big bag of Cheetos. Leave it open on the kitchen counter overnight. Feast on the stale deliciousness as soon as you wake up, and when you’ve had enough (trust me, it might take a while), pour yourself a bowl of Fruity Pebbles and add the milk. The perfect dessert, in my opinion, for the perfect breakfast.

You’ll feel a little queasy at this point, which -- if memory serves -- was the yummy, addicting point. That’s when you pour yourself a big mug of really strong, really hot coffee. If the coffee’s strong enough you’ll undo a lot of the damage from the Cheetos and the cereal.

I’m actually powerless over love like that, one reason I won’t touch Cheeto dust or venture into the sweetened cereal aisle or take even one sip of Darrell’s coffee. What remains? The memory of a great love affair. I’m glad I sowed my wild oats (so to speak). I had my fun. Now I’ve changed my definition of fun. I love foods that, as Dr. Daniel Amen says, love me back.

You?

You may remember me talking about getting a degree in civil engineering, as if that was a bad decision. And, depending on the metric you use, it was.

There are other ways of looking at it, though.

I graduated with a B average and passed the exam that would’ve paved the way (so to speak) for my Engineer-in-Training certificate. Considering how much I hated the material, and it me, that was a monumental display of grit -- which is a gift that keeps on giving. I’d chosen the major with the highest prospects for the most money when I graduated, and learned that if you don’t know where you’re going you may as well not arrive broke. If I didn’t like engineering I could still become a writer without going back to school -- but if I’d majored in creative writing and caught the engineering bug later, more education would’ve been required. There’s a lot to be said for doing the wrong things in the right order.

My summer internships in road construction, railroad design, and manufacturing management were a lot of fun in every way except the actual work. I knew by the time I graduated I wanted nothing to do with engineering. I accidentally sidestepped the sunk cost problem before I ever heard the term, saving me many more years of unhappiness. I went into a general management program with a big company after I graduated. The work didn’t make my heart sing, but it gave me so many windows on the world -- and I learned a lot about what I was good at and what might be fun to focus on someday.

I’ve often joked about what a silly decision it was to major in engineering, and this post is my way of retiring that storyline. If you keep referring to yourself as a joke and keep referring to your decisions as silly, would you be surprised at how difficult it is to take your dreams seriously?

When we don’t even have friends in ourselves, who needs naysayers?

One question I get a lot is whether I fast -- and, if so, why. And how!

I fast. I don’t do it to lose weight, though many people find it effective for that. I do it because, as my friend Alex Lickerman points out, “Evidence is accumulating that it can produce a myriad of other health benefits.”

I’ll let Alex take it from here.

Dr SeussWhen Katie was minus however many months I took seriously the suggestion to help her be as comfortable with Dad’s voice as mine. You know how it goes. The child’s never not with Mom. The sound of her voice is life itself.

So I had Darrell record some Dr. Seuss books on a cassette tape -- remember those? -- and I played it next to my stomach under a sweater on weekday mornings as I prepped for my (then daily) talk show. She was kicking a lot by this point, but when I turned the recorder on she stopped. When I turned the recorder off she almost always kicked me, hard, in what I imagined was protest.

Katie’s the most voracious reader I’ve ever known. As a toddler her favorite word was again. If we read a book to her once we read it hundreds of times, and I’m not kidding.

Did it help to read to her before she was born? Who knows? But we’re sure it didn’t hurt!

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photo courtesy of Katie Anderson

When I was a brand-new cocktail waitress I kept the other waitresses and the bartenders supplied with wine to enjoy after our shifts. That’s because we couldn’t serve customers wine from the bottles I’d opened.

It took me a while to realize you don’t have to muscle the corkscrew down through the cork -- which only mangles it, of course. You just position the corkscrew correctly (a bit of an art in itself), then gently twist.

Don’t have to look far for the life lesson in that one!