Nuance and Neuroses

Captain's log. 1:30 a.m. Goofy (the cat with the bladder crystals) is running low on food. Good thing I ordered more online. The special kind for urinary health that costs $60. Hmm, 17.6 pounds of food is heavier than I thought. I'll pour some into a smaller container so it will be easier to manage on a daily basis. What do I do with the rest of the bag? If I leave it on the floor, Jack (the cat with the seizures and demonic food lust) will rip it open and eat until he can't feel feelings anymore. Okay, there's a small space on a shelf in the entryway closet. The bag is too tall, but I'll zip it closed and see if I can shove it in sideways. Shit, it's stuck on something else on the shelf. While holding the 17-pound bag with one hand, I'll haphazardly shove the other thing out of the way. Wouldn't want to start over. "Guess that bag wasn't as zipped as I thought," I thought as a half a pound of the expensive special food rains do...

I was just at the baby shower two weeks ago. I still have the Amazon tab open confirming my order of newborn diapers and a hooded bath towel. When something unspeakably tragic happens to someone who doesn't deserve it - and there are some things no one deserves - there are no words to make it better. When two lovely, kind, truly good people who are eager to be parents get to spend just four days with their precious baby, what do you do? What do you say? What do you feel? For me, the answer to the last question is "a lot." Despair. Anger. Heartache. Disbelief. Helplessness. Hopelessness. Somehow guilt snuck its way in there too. Why did this happen? How could this happen? I am not a religious person. I don't even know if I believe in God (but I'll capitalize it just in case). If you believe that everything happens for a reason, that's your faith and that's fine. But if you tell me that a car accident that causes the loss of a premature newborn is ...

Okay, maybe not thirty. But at least six. For me, Valentine's Day has never really been about romance. At each stage of my life it has been about a different kind of love and a different kind of lesson. Right in the Childhood: Treasure Hunts  When my brother Brady and I were kids, Valentine's Day was one of my favorite holidays because my mom would send us on a treasure hunt around the house. After handing us the first clue, it was up to us to figure out where the next clue was. Each rhyming clue would send us to the next location until finally we reached the treasure - usually a basket with candy and stuffed animals. Maybe some heart-shaped sunglasses.  Childhood Valentine's Day was all about family love, with Brady and I giggling and racing and shoving each other out of the way to find the next clue. And adding one more notch to my lifelong love affair with words and wit. Elementary School: BFFs and Social Landmines  While the merits of this practi...