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

“So, tell me how you think the death of Curt Cobain will impact music,” a reporter asked me. I stared blankly. “Let me get the manager.” I mean, I knew he died, and it was tragic, but I didn't have a prepared statement for the media. I was only part-time. My early days in Chicago, where I moved on my own a couple of years after college, were filled with the kind of swirling chaos that made sense in your twenties. What also made sense was that in addition to my low-paying, ful

I love a ritual—especially one that involves handwriting, nostalgia, memory keeping and self-reflection. In January 2022, I started a new ritual, aptly titled “New Year’s Day Cards.” At the end of every month, I’d write out a note to myself. It might contain wins or losses, highlights or lowlights, observations or just tiny things I wanted to remember. As I’d planned since New Year’s Day 2022, I sat down and opened the sealed envelopes at breakfast on New Year’s Day 2023 in m

As soon as the calendar turns to January, June 1 has traditionally been a magnet for my attention and emotion since it became the day Ken died in 2011. But this year May 1 leapt out at me. And I was surprised to realize that May 1 marks ten years since Ken and I moved back to Chicago from Los Angeles. As impossible as it seems that Ken died at all--let alone five years ago--it seems even more so that it was ten years ago we packed up and raced from the West in three days in

Today is my sister's birthday. It always has been. As long as I've been on earth. It was the first thing I thought of today when I looked at the date on the calendar to medicate my dog Kallie, per our morning ritual. (I sent my sister a card the other day and texted her this morning.) But there was something else about today that look a little longer to make itself known to me: it was fifteen years ago on this date when I first laid eyes on Ken  at a little bar in Ravenswood

I've felt the pull of this day for a couple of weeks. Uneasiness and my  social impotence returned, leaving me tired and usually in the desire of no one's company. For someone as far down the path of grief as I consider myself, I'm more than a little surprised when I find an impending Ken-related milestone still throws a wrench into the works. He would have turned fifty years old today. Fifty. Odd. Fifty seems so young to this forty-seven year old--let alone forty-five whic

I didn't dread today. And that didn't surprise me. It didn't take me by surprise. And that didn't surprise me either. I feel something very special. Ethereal. When I look at the date March 23. No matter what font it might be written in, it explodes In my mind's eye with color, depth, texture, and enormity in every direction.  It was Ken's and my second and most meaningful encounter . After March 23, 2001 we were never apart again. Well, until he died on June 1, 2011, but I'v

The Northeast has been brutalized by snow since the start of winter. Last weekend, it was our turn in the Midwest. It snowed here in Chicago, leaving us with an average of about 20 inches of wet, drifting snow. To be honest, I was kind of looking forward to it…since it was really our first of the season. And because my Chow Kallie loves to play in the snow. As we walked Sunday night, surrounded in all directions by white, I got lost…in another blizzard ; one I wrote about fo

When I’m feeling a little under the weather, I drink hot tea. I don’t really like it under any other circumstances. I remember my mom drinking a lot of it when I was growing up. And still does. For me, back then it was mostly a warm, dark vehicle for tons of white table sugar. I'm lucky. I don't get sick very often. Sometimes, even before I realize my throat is getting scratchy or I'm sounding a bit nasally, I seek out the little "Colonial" (as I call it) tea cup and saucer.

I published my  previous post  without thinking that I still wanted to write about 2014. But I'm a sucker for the statistical fireworks show Wordpress.com puts on for me. So, we're a few days into 2015. I rang in the new year in bed. Not because of any tragic reason—though I am a those who subscribe to leaving amateur night to amateurs. To be honest, I was kind of sad to see 2014 go. It was a good year; one fraught with exciting firsts for me. Becoming a homeowner was the b

TO: Steve Austin and Jaime Sommers CC: Oscar Goldman, Director, Office of Scientific Intelligence, Dr. Rudy Wells It's been a while, hasn’t it? You might not remember me, but we worked together for a while back in the 70s (see photo). Though I wasn't quite as well known as you two were, I held my own in areas specific to espionage, Big Foot hunting and Fembot control. I was the youngest agent in Office of Scientific Intelligence (OSI) history, if you'll recall. Yes, my...

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end" are lyrics to a song I always found profoundly deep (and from which I took the name of this blog). There was a time when I had the blind luxury of pondering its meaning as I sang along in the car, but discovering I was living it during Ken's illness and death was a true FML moment. For a while I found the song--and these lyrics--taunting, reminding me of something so painful and obvious. Now, I just find them indiffe

As stated in my previous blog , the place I'm buying is smaller than my current apartment. I haven't really packed much yet. It's been a lot of going through things and deciding what will/will not be making the journey to the place/my new life with me. And therein lies the chafing emotional rub. Early in the process of looking at condos and deciding on one to put an offer on, I knew I needed to thin things out. Early attempts resulted in short circuits and overloads ending

I'm moving. Aside from the Christmas cheer in the air there is also one of excitement. For change. And an equal measure of dread for the same. The normal dread of change. As well as the other kind: the kind that finds me packing up and purging things from my life with Ken in the apartment where we lived together the longest. Saying goodbye to the place where we said goodbye. Not an easy task. I remind myself of lots of things. Constantly. This isn't--in fact--the place whe

I can't believe it's only been three years I've been pouring my heart out into the ether of the internet. It seems like I've always been blogging. It certainly saved my sanity during the insanity of the last few years. But it also has served as a venue for sharing my brand of humor. I've linked a couple of my favorite blogs below to mark the occasion. The Dime Store of Broken Dreams If You Build It, They Will Come (like it or not) The Unflattering History of Sports (and me)

Sharing this again from last year.

Change can be difficult for most everyone. I don't love it. Ken was adept at handling change, and instrumental in my process of dealing with it. I've learned to manage it on my own--out of necessity--though old habits of inflexibility appear from time to time. Thinking of how he would handle any given situation is equal parts helpful and frustrating--because I have never possessed the kind of patience he had, and I so miss his myriad talents for caressing my soul. The annual

Writing my previous blog and looking at the photos I inserted into the post reminded me of our first year in LA. And of the first home Ken and I ever shared together. We didn't live together in Chicago for the year-and-a-half before we moved West (thinking of now makes me wonder how I could stand not waking up next to him every day), but it's something we were both looking forward to. Having access by default to each was a concept we both were very interested in. No more bri

During Kallie's recuperation, her physical freedom has to be limited to ensure she doesn't injure her newly post-op knees. Crating her is preferred, but my girl never appreciated being crated. The only time it worked was when I brought all 9 lbs. of her home from the breeder as she snuggled quietly in the crate in the backseat on the three-hour ride home, making only intermittent squeaks. After that, time spent in the crate was anything but quiet. Being 80% housebroken when I

It feels like I'm standing on the edge of a great precipice. And I've stood here before. As I mentioned in a previous blog , my pup Kallie Kismet is scheduled for knee surgery tomorrow. (Coincidentally, date happens to fall on what would have been Ken's and my fourth wedding anniversary--in Iowa). She'll be in the hospital overnight, and when she comes home the following day will need a lot of TLC as she heals and regains strength in her legs over what I'm told is an eight-w