Yours truly (right) with author and friend, Claire Bidwell Smith (left--and moderately preggars) Most months, the first is a sometimes glaring, sometimes dreaded number appearing in the first square of the calendar. Some months it approaches more brazenly than others. The first of this month (March) has been on my radar for a while for a couple of reasons. March 23 would have been Ken's and my 11th anniversary together, and also serves as a reminder that last year on that da

It was a clear and sunny day in Chicago today. After sleeping in, I rolled out of bed and headed to my favorite coffee shop for a few hours of writing and maybe some prep for the upcoming work week. On the way I passed a new retail curiosity which billed itself as a "child centered spa experience" (THEY forgot the hypen, not me.) I shuddered at the thought as I passed only to reach my destination to find it closed…for business! I had mixed emotions about it. What I liked abou

I really enjoyed writing last week's blog . And it came at just the right time. I began the new year with a grand cleaning and organizing project around the apartment. I'd gone through every room, touched practically everything and pulled out and donated miscellaneous and sundry things. After I'd finished up I sat down in my organized office to work on the book I've started about Ken, sharing stories from our life together and the lessons he taught and the joys he brought. Tu

I grew up in the church--or rather I grew up in a church. No, my parents weren't a pair evangelical ministers--they were a pair of…other "colorful" nicknames throughout the years. I grew up in a church because my dad stumbled upon one for sale in rural town he'd driven through on his travels working for the state of Indiana. Unlike a normal person who would have just started a secret second family in this ideal isolated hamlet, he actually relocated my mom, two sisters and m

I have always loved the idea of sitting at a coffee shop and clicking away on the keys of my Mac to some stunningly witty piece I was working on, but in truth sitting alone has never held much fascination for me. Alone at home is one thing. Alone in public has always been quite another. Same with restaurants and movies. I've still yet to see a movie alone, but is still something I hope to accomplish. The lure of writing outside the house is just that--to get away from the sa

Last year after Ken had surgery and was recovering from 12 weeks of chemo, we were optimistic about the future. So much so, I decided to write a book, documenting everything he and I had gone through. As a chronic journaler who keeps a detailed calendar and diary, I had plenty to draw upon. I began pounding away at the keyboard in the evenings--sometimes in my office if he was sleeping--and sometimes sitting on the couch with him in the living room as we watched TV and talked

Every so often I stumble across a neatly folded red t-shirt tucked way back in my closet when I'm organizing or looking for something. I'm always compelled to unfurl it, unfailingly get lost in memories. It's my two-thousand-dollar t-shirt. I've never worn it. I'm not even sure I've ever washed it, but I have considered having it framed because of the price. In spite of the sage words of my grandma, I never liked to stand out, preferring a safe place huddled in the masses. It

Like most small town kids, I had a 25" console television in my bedroom when I was growing up. I was a shy, introvert who spent hours alone, entertaining myself. But no matter what I was doing, the boob tube was on, beckoning me into one zany adventure after another. I made many friends in the land of make believe. At the top of my list are two people: Steve Austin and Jaime Sommers. Jaime (yes, that's how she spelled it) was one of my closest childhood friends. Steve Austin

Today felt like the beginning...of something. With Ken's Memorial Soiree a jumble of fond memories and feelings, today the remnants of my out-of-state family left to return to their lives in California. There was nothing standing between me and my future. It was a good day overall. Cleaning, laundry and prepping for heading back to work per a traditional work schedule tomorrow. But it was also a bit...paralyzing. I've learned to just keep putting one foot in front of the othe

I returned to work yesterday. It was a daunting feat, but a necessary one. I'd submerged myself in alone-time last week to ensure I could feel the full gamut of emotions I needed to feel. I gave them their due. I kept busy but allowed myself moments/hours to feel what I felt. But by Sunday I was ready to go back to work—or at least be “out and among.” To be busy and distracted and productive sounded like a wonderful idea. And it was. A couple of well-wishers stopped by my des

A friend recently likened dealing with kenan's terminal cancer diagnosis to a staircase. Each change in his condition defines the "new normal". But before this new normal is accepted there is shock, denial, pain, and then acceptance until the next "step" comes and the process is repeated. I thought it was simple and brilliant. It really described my experience. Sometimes these steps occur without any warning. It's more like stumbling down a staircase on roller skates then wal

(Ken booked ended by my folks on the left, and his folks on the right.) It's a funny thing to be gay and fall in love in one's early thirties. Your personality is pretty much fully "baked". You know who you are for the most part, and have an established group of friends. This was the case when I met kenan. We both lived in Chicago, away from our families (coincidentally) so it took quite a while for me to meet all the members of his immediate family, and likewise for him to

The other day, I had a rare luxury. Ken was insistent upon taking his folks and aunt who was visiting for the afternoon for a trip to Michael's to pick up some craft supplies for one of his several current projects. Everyone seemed to be on board. I asked about my role in this adventure, and was kindly instructed that it was a gift for me...to give me time alone at home. The gesture was supremely sweet and so appreciated. "Alone time" is something I'd grown used to not gettin

I think the journey with my husband kenan's cancer has been the most important one I've ever embarked on. Though not about me directly, it certainly has impacted my life and how I view the world. I've danced around the subject in previous blog entries, but wasn't sure if--or how much--I wanted to write about it "for public consumption." But after his week-long stay in the hospital a few weeks ago, and learning the cancer had reached a point where nothing can be done except to

In a previous blog I lamented my iPad purchase, declaring it overhyped and underwhelming. So I happily returned it, thinking I was free from its touch-screen grip. However, it wasnt that simple. It never is with me. I am a lover of anything that "organizes." I had a Trapper Keeper in 1980. A DayRunner in 1990. A Handspring Visor Deluxe (Palm OS) in 2000. A Dell Axim (Windows Mobile OS) in 2003. A BlackBerry in 2006. An iPhone in 2008. My need for centralized organizatio

Last week, after finishing the first draft of my novel, I started writing about a bullying experience with a kid from high school. (To be clear, I was the one being bullied...I know...shocker!) Tonight, I just finished the fifth version and sent it to a writer friend for her input. I was so excited to send it off and get her esteemed opinion. But as soon as I hit "send," I could feel my heart beating heavily. The knot in my stomach that evokes this experience--reserved now fo

I guess I would remiss in writing a blog about writing to not pronounce the completion of the first (and very rough draft) of the novel I started writing as I accepted the challenge presented by National Novel Writing Month . Like my decision to commit to going to a personal trainer twice week beginning in October. I've written a couple of terrible novels in my life, beginning at 13, but this is the first time I went about it in a very different way: by picking subject matter

After saving the money, and waiting a year, I finally bought an iPad on Tuesday. And I returned it two days later. Although my Apple Store return experience was as easy--though less joyful--as purchasing something, I thought owning an iPad would be a transformative experience, but I just "didn't get it." Steve Jobs told me I needed an one! And no one wanted to believe him more than I did. I believed it when I converted to Mac. I believed it when I got my iPhone. But the iPad.

My parents owned a "variety store" when I was third grade--maybe after and possibly before, but I know for certain I remember going there in third grade. After school my sister and I would walk from elementary school ten minutes to the block-long business district known to everyone then as "uptown" to spend time there until Mom closed up shop at five and took us home. Sometimes my friend Marie would offer me a ride on her banana-seated bike, in which case my nine-year-old laz

I rarely buy complete albums in this day of iTunes and digital music. But, I've been waiting YEARS for an album to be available via iTunes (and incredibly lazy for not just buying the CD that sat on my Amazon wish list since 2002). I got the cassette of "Amplified Heart" when I worked at the now-defunct music chain Coconuts in the mid/late 90's and fell in love with it from the second i pressed the little indented arrow on the play button. It quickly became the soundtrack of