Radio Silence

Really, Julia Cameron? Really? I think I’ve been pretty good about opening my way of thinking about this touchy-feely stuff, as uncomfortable, yet surprisingly useful as it’s been. I hung in there when you asked me to find my inner child. I didn’t roll my eyes at phrases like, “The snowflake pattern of your soul is emerging.”  I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but I’ve even caught myself whispering an affirmation or two to myself in the past few months. But the top of page 87 in Chapter 4 of The Artist’s Way is just about where I draw the line. You want me to STOP READING (temporarily)? Now that’s just straight up crazy, lady.

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Geek Love

I can’t help myself. I love geeks. I love how they effortlessly use multivariate calculus to optimize life’s every day situations (is it scientifically more effective to brush teeth with a mechanical toothbrush?). I can always spot a geek in a crowd because he or she favors t-shirts with obscure references that I have to go home and Google so I can be in on a joke I still won’t get. In fact, I love geeks so much that one asked me to marry him awhile back and two geeklings later, I’ve never looked back.

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A Mother’s Sole

I keep a ridiculously uncomfortable pair of shoes in my closet for no good reason other than to remind myself that I can still wear them. Anytime. If I so choose. And I do. Not because I have delusions of looking 10 pounds thinner, having the peaches-and-cream skin of a 20-year old, or even feeling younger. Ok, fine. I do have delusions about the skin thing. I digress. I wear the shoes because every time I visit my grandmother, I realize that being a mother ain’t what it used to be.

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The Great Escape

I had been waiting for 28 minutes. In the disjointed accent of a robot,  a woman’s automated voice declared more loudly than necessary, “Now serving number Z100 at Station Number 8.”  I swear to you, on the 4th floor of City Hall, the heavens opened up and a choir of angels sang the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s Messiah. I gathered my things, which included one toddler and a Tolstoy-sized stack of paperwork and rushed 20 paces to Station Number 8.

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