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Any accounting of my physical being right now would have to start with the fact that I likely got a concussion last Thursday. Jeff surprised the back of my head with the front of his, and it left me seeing stars and nauseated for awhile.

Friday morning I felt especially scatter brained. Zumba, for any number of reasons, was brutal.

I think it would have been ok, except for the fall at the roller rink on Saturday. After the pain in my knee eased up a bit I noticed that a full-fledged headache (centered on my recent collision) had magically appeared where it had not been just a few minutes before.

All of that general body soreness after the fall kind of masked how I was reacting to having developed a decent gym pattern in November and early December and basically abandoning it for the last two weeks.

While I ate cheese by the pound.
While water came in a distant 5th on the lists of fluids I was consuming.

All of which is to say that I did the most logical thing a woman can do under the circumstances.

I stopped this morning at the fancy juice store.

Happy New Year – may 2014 have something you like in it.

A man in his 50s with his early college age daughter – they are laughing and talking.
A dad with his “I’m THREE”-year old daughter, taking turns with mom in the center circle.
A handsome man with a shirt that says, “i 8 sum pi and it was delicious” and his 5 year old making their way around.
Three teenage boys feeling completely at ease and cool.
All at the same place.


We were all at the roller rink.

Lots of new skaters with shiny skates. Lots of parents with kids the same age as ours trying to figure out what to do with the second week of break. Lots of fun.

I took a hard knee, but it didn’t break. Kiddo was getting the hang of it. It was grand.

I have now seen the Doctor Who Christmas special, which was the last show for Matt Smith. Even after 24 hours, I’m just pissed. I’m not the only one.

Now, I was never a rabid Matt Smith fan, he did a great heartbroken-old-man but day to day I was unmoved. I loved his interactions with Rory and with River. I never cared for Clara, and Amy I could take or leave. The Silence are an interesting idea — poorly delivered for the most part. NONE of these truths made me the target audience for the show.

It is true that a lot of the lose ends for the show have been discussed. Too many for a one-hour episode meant to be an emotional fond farewell (which is why they were each handled by a statement of truth taking 5 seconds with no … oh just fuck it).

Even as somebody who never really adored Smith’s Doctor — he fucking deserved better than this.

Doctor Who capitalizes on the anniversary special by hoping nobody will notice that the Christmas episode was stupid. I’m afraid, because I’ve been waiting for years to find out how Sherlock didn’t die and I’m worried that Moffat is going to fuck that up too.

(and I’m still mad about the Glee Christmas episode)

This is my Christmas Eve.
There are many others like it, but this one is mine.
My Christmas Eve was a great day.
My Christmas Eve with my favorite people.
It is my life.
I must master it as I master life.
Without me, this Christmas Eve is useless
Without Christmas Eve, well … then it is just Tuesday.
I must be true to this Christmas Eve.
I must be honest to my family, not the media which is trying to kill me.
I must discount the media before they tell me I do not know my family.
I will.
Before G–d I swear this creed: I am the defender of my family, we are the masters of our own peace, we are the saviors of our own lives. So be it, while we are alive, amen.

I sang, as part of a group, tonight. There are 105 of us in the chorus, the orchestra is about as large. The Concertmaster looks a lot like my FIL, but is not.

I am, in all honesty, a weak alto who would be a stronger tenor – but I don’t sing enough to be strong in any circumstance. I stay in alto because there are more people there and I hope my weakness doesn’t show. A strange paradox — singing in a weak range because being part of a smaller number in a stronger range scares me.


Firsts show was tonight, with a matinee tomorrow.

I glow and thrive in applause, in being back stage, in being in a pre-performance mode. I love it more than many, many things. If it was part of how I made a living I think it would make me very happy.

They stood up tonight. A beloved Standing O. I closed my eyes and smiled because I MADE THAT.

We are 5 minutes from leaving for my son’s first dance recital. He looks great, and is bouncing off the walls (while not talking about the event).

He is brave, and a leo, and sensitive, and shy in moments (like all 5 year olds).

I don’t want to introduce that he should be fearful, and I don’t want him to be surprised from the stage that there are people there.

I have found myself shying away from the word “recital” (apparently, a more feminine word in my mind than I thought. Funny, what you learn about yourself) but I am talking about my own rehearsals now — and how close nervous and excited are to each other.

Five has been a little rocky for him – he is quick to “Charlie Brown” (head hanging) as he figures out that not everything that happens around him is actually about him. I hope he loves applause as much as I do – but if he doesn’t that is ok too.

I am excited and nervous for him. My dancing dude. Break a leg!

There are two things I haven’t been saying since my work situation rearranged…

1. I really, really like this pace in my life. For now, it is a good thing.
2. It is not easy.

I would not change this at all right now, but here is what I am not saying –
1. I know that some of my dreams outreach my current skills, so I will make myself vulnerable by needing to learn (and the struggle and failure that comes along with new things).
2. I know that some of my ideas are a perfect fit for my brain, but may not translate to the outside world well, so I may build up my skills and STILL have something that doesn’t work in the end.
3. It is possible that it would work if someone else did it, and for reasons I don’t know it won’t be my version of it that works. (I saw the essential equivalent to Auntie Cards (an older project of mine) in the mass market within the year after I set it aside).
4. I am responsible for every choice between 8a-3:30p that I make. When the next step scares me there is nobody BUT ME to push me forward, I won’t get written up, I won’t lose face, it just means letting the whole project fail because I didn’t stand up and do the next step.
5. Sometimes I don’t know what order the steps come in. I don’t have a circle of people who are doing this, I feel alone.
6. I want to make sure that my family gets a better, stronger version of me because I have the actual time for self care — but we don’t really know what that looks like.
7. It is possible I look like a fool.
8. I don’t have a balance between work, home, personal, social yet that I think fits quite right.
9. I want those closest to me to be proud of me, years from now I want this to be a fun story we tell instead of one that ends in an awkward silence.
10. I’m trying really hard. I like it, I’m happy, but I am working really hard.

I was given a chance to fully express part of myself that I’ve never tried to do before. It is not easy. It is good. It is not easy.