I used to sprint the two blocks to her house with the speed of an Olympic athlete—even if it was just to sit on the giant house-length front porch to wait for her to finish eating dinner. Then, once we were together, we were off for an adventure. And it was a different one every day. One without computers, tablets or smartphones. The only technology involved was the kind our imaginations could invent--far superior to anything Silicon Valley can offer today. I wrote about Caro

Most of us have taken the time to connect with our friends and family more than usual during our time in self-isolation. It's really opened up fascinating dialogues--ones which wouldn't have occurred in the "old normal." While Marco Polo'ing with a friend, sending positivity back and forth through our weekends and workdays alike, she said one of her goals for that day was to "protect my energy." And I immediately understood what she was saying. We're all living inside of a no

I’ve been thinking a lot about Fridays lately; how much I love them. And look forward to them. How they feel like a warm cocoon after a challenging week of work. And how drastically my feelings about them have changed since I wrote The Pinch of Fridays in 2012. I’ll never forget when Ken was diagnosed with cancer in 2009. For all the reasons. It changed everything. His path—mine. Irrevocably. Mine shifted drastically to that of caregiver where my world revolved (rightfully)

Today, a friend at work (my birthday twin--date, not year) wished me a happy last-day-of-my-forties. I’d never thought of it that way before, but the first thing that came to mind was “Good! Get me the fuck out of my forties!” thinking of it, of course, as the decade where I lost Ken . But upon further reflection, it’s a decade full of as many highs as lows—-more, even. Of course, Ken is foremost on my mind when I think about my forties. It started with him--literally waking

It seems like I've always had this blog; that it has always been here to engage me and calm me and focus me and distract me. But I haven't. I've always written for those reasons, but it wasn't until 2010 when I started doing so in this blog. To think about it now, my life is starkly different to when I started this blog in December 2010. I was married to  Ken  and he was battling his second cancer diagnosis in as many years. And I was trying like hell to write about--think a

My love, June 1, 2015 means it's been four years since you left this world. No matter how much time passes, it doesn't really make sense to me. Our life together is so vivid and textured, it only seems like a blink of an eye since we met, let alone fell in love and lived 10 incredibly happy years together. I hope it always feels that way. I've learned a love like ours is too powerful—too potent—to stop or fade away. It can't be contained by time or space. It's enduring. Ete

Today is Ken's birthday. Of all the annual milestones throughout the year, this one hurts the least because it's said in the present tense. It  is Ken's birthday. Not was. I welcome any opportunity I can speak of him in the present tense. It will always be the anniversary of his birth on September 21, 1965. And--luckily for both of us--some thirty-odd (very odd, some would say) years later our paths crossed--setting us down an amazing and important path together. Part of th

There is part of me that has great appreciation for easy, quiet days--particularly bright, early summer mornings. It's these kinds of mornings when it's never clearer to me how lucky I am to be who I am and to have what I have and to love whom I love. I greedily devour times like this and steep in all the goodness in my life--which, of course, includes Kallie. She has her own way of expressing the same types of feelings: It's always striking to me that when I'm up and out-

I had the coolest dream last night. I was part of an elite espionage team on some kind of dangerous mission to stop some bad guy from doing something...well...bad. Unfortunately, our team of assassins wasn't getting along and during the mission we broke up, each of us going our own way and trying to get out of wherever we were without getting killed. It was one of those rare dreams that is so unusual and different and fun, you can't help but remember it--even be excited about

I still check Ken's email. I'm not sure why. I just like knowing it's still there and active. And it's still something I monitor on his behalf should anything of substance ever arrive. It's one of the more mundane ways I honor him. I've long ago archived all the emails that he sent and received personally--or ones I sent on his behalf. Now I just check the inbox from time to time and delete the spam or long-ago-subscribed-to newsletters. One day last week I clicked on the lo

I woke up yesterday morning to what was the twelfth anniversary of when I met Ken--when my life changed direction in the subtlest yet most dramatic of ways. I knew it was coming but as it got closer, it slipped my mind. For someone who is date-obsessed, I'm not sure how that happens. Or maybe I am. As I lay there, ensnarled in my flannel sheets and the quilt Ken's grandmother made for him for his high school graduation, I let all the memories this date invokes wash over me. I

My friend Mindy came to town from Portland for a visit this past week. Though we talk and text regularly, I hadn't seen her since she came to town to support me and attend Ken's soiree in June of 2011. We met in 2003 when I got a job at a chamber of commerce where she was already working. It was a friendship that was so easy to slip into--like a comfortable pair of slippers. She's fits into the category of women who are intelligent, kind and caring. And she holds a place in

It's difficult to believe it's been three years since I’ve been to Southern California--specifically for Christmas. Even more difficult to believe: that it was a trip made without Ken and that it’s my second Christmas without him. In so many ways it felt so normal and so "usual" for me. And for that I'm incredibly grateful. But when I reflect on that very topic of things being "okay" for me, I credit Ken's bravery and generous spirit, as well as a lot of hard work on my end,

Since writing about our last adventure together , I've thought a lot about all the ones Ken and I shared that came before. Particularly, I was reminded of the bold decision we made in packing up our lives and driving cross-country to relocate from Chicago to LA in the fall of 2002. When I met him in early 2001 Ken had been planning to move to LA to be closer to his brother, sister-in-law and nephews--and, of course, to pursue his acting career. His plans went off the rails a

A creature of nostalgia, I can't help but call out today as another special anniversary in my mind and my heart. As mentioned in an earlier blog, last May the instant Ken saw Katie's PadLo tattoo on her shoulder, he said, "I want one" with an impassioned tone. It was part demand, part plea, and completely undeniable. Though most of his pain was being well controlled by methadone and a host of other assisting drugs, I was terrified for him to go through any more physical trau

(A rare paparazzi shot, catching vintage badasses Denise and Ron (circa 1990) arriving "on the scene.") I read a blurb recently about a study conducted on a group of "truly happy" people to find what--if anything--they had in common. The study found that those surveyed only shared one trait: the strength of their social relationships. I'm not exactly sure how "truly happy" is measured and what metrics would actually reveal that, but I found it fascinating nonetheless. And i

I can't believe the mild winter and seemingly early spring we've experienced in Chicago this year. Up until this winter, we've had increasing amounts of snow, culminating in last winter's February 1 blizzard. I was talking to a friend at work recently about this amazing weather. I brought up the power of "the promise of spring." The anticipation and excitement of warmth and sun. Rebirth, really. There's a walk I like to take when the weather is decent. It's not even mid-Marc

This week marks the one-year anniversary of the my first blog . During the intervening year--as I promised myself--I've written at least one blog per week. It's an accomplishment that fills my writer's heart with more than a little pride. When I began blogging in December, 2010 I told myself it was mainly to gain some exposure on the blogosphere and to begin building a public voice as a writer. But early on I knew I was fooling myself. Ken's illness and subsequent death has b