Recently, I received a rare clinical insight. A wake-up call. However, it was not in the treatment of a person.
Rather, it was in the care of our beloved rescue dog, Chloe. Chloe is 11, or as our kids like to say, “77 in people years”. Chloe has always been a handful, with a load of interesting behaviors she picked up before we adopted her, like barking incessantly at delivery trucks and dogs walking by the house.
Now here you go again, you say
You want your freedom
Well who am I to keep you down
It’s only right that you should
Play the way you feel it
But listen carefully to the sound…
–Dreams, written by Stevie Nicks
Here is my new head shot for work. Like it? I do. It’s pretty nice. Thanks again to Jen Geer Photography for making the process fun, quick and easy.This post really isn’t about my headshot, but that’s how my day started.
Our eldest daughter Tasia starts school at the University of Michigan in about 2 weeks. This summer has been a blur of getting ready. And by getting ready, I mean materially, but more so emotionally. It has been like a mini-roller coaster ride as we experience each related milestone. Orientation:
I don’t talk about it a lot and I have certainly never written about it. “It” is that twelve years ago, we lost a baby sometime between 16 and 20 weeks of pregnancy. I still feel a stab of pain as I type that.
Do you remember the show Green Acres? It was in reruns when I was a kid. The premise was that a New York lawyer (Eddie Albert) drags his protesting socialite wife (Eva Gavor) to a rural farm outside of the town of “Hooterville”. Hilarity ensues.
We just returned from a week with my parents in Florida. At 80, they continue to amaze; fully independent, active, and enjoying life. But there are changes. My mom’s ankle is now giving her trouble. She visited a specialist who took one look at her X-ray and solemnly pronounced his best medical opinion: “your ankle is all whacked out.”
