- I’m going to the doctor tomorrow morning to have my right hand examined. About six weeks ago, I injured my wrist during karate, and it’s still not OK. In fact, when I shake hands with anyone with a reasonably strong grip, my first instinct is to scream like a little girl. So, on the advice of my bevy of hospital nurses, I’ve agreed to see my physician, and probably have my hand X-rayed. Let’s hope the worst-case scenario from Karen — surgery and a pin — do not come to pass.
- The Day of Joy has come and gone. On September 22, my dear friends Emilie and Dr. Jon exchanged their vows in Beverly Hills, Mich. The reception, at the Southfield Inn, was exquisite. Truly, this was a world-class event, and I had a lot of fun. I welcomed the chance to renew my relationship with college friends Rob and Dave, and I got to dance a bit with Emilie’s mother (both of her parents are cool, although I didn’t get to formally meet Jon’s parents). And despite that Tony was the “head” usher, I did get the chance to serve as the late-night-substitute maid of honor, but stories about the circumstances are probably not appropriate for a family-friendly blog.
- Speaking of Tony … he recently moved into a new office space, which he’s sharing with three other solo practitioners. It’s cool to see how he’s really getting into his law practice, and I must admit to a fair amount of pride in his accomplishments. The only downside to seeing his new professional digs was that I met the woman with whom he’s sharing space — a nice lady, to be sure, but with such a firm handshake that, with my damaged wrist, she very nearly made me cry. Seriously. And Tony found that to be immensely funny, curse him.
- I recently glanced back at some of my recent posts, and I’ve detected a propensity to wax eloquent about a certain amount of personal or emotional disaffection. I think that this is not really a fair characterization of where I’m at, and I think I’ve isolated the reason for my occasional lapses: a lack of sleep. I’m frequently exhausted and listless not because I’m channeling my inner emo ragdoll, but rather because I’m not getting adequate restful slumber. I started to figure this out when the earplugs I occasionally wear (to mute my upstairs neighbors), one morning, were no longer in my ears, but were resting peacefully on my bathroom counter, and I had no idea how they got there. But between the random noises and the spiders crawling on my legs at night, it’s no wonder my REM cycle gets interrupted. So, I just need to solve a much easier problem to engender, I expect, a return of energy and enthusiasm.
- I *am* excited about October, though. I’m going to a conference in Jacksonville, Fla., in the middle of the month. I’ll be home for the weekend, then I have a Monday through Thursday vacation planned in Las Vegas with Tony. He got a great deal through Harrah’s — hotel, food, and the works are comped — and all we need to do is show up. So I’m flying us out. It should be a great time.
- I turned 31 on the 15th. Had a nice lunch with my mother, and a fun dinner with Tony. Betsy bought me lunch with a group from the office on the following Wednesday. Not as bad as 30 was, but I’m somewhat less than pleased to see the “age” indicator increment one.
- I’ve started voice lessons with a private instructor. I’ve already had two sessions, and I’m having a lot of fun with it. There’s plenty of room for improvement, though. On the other hand, I did have a single piano lesson in late August, only to be told by the teacher that I didn’t really need lessons; all I had to do was just practice, because I had the fundamentals of music theory and keyboarding already mastered. Whoda thunkit?
- Well, I’ve successfully navigated my first real, sustained experience with an emotionally disturbed person. I had met a young lady about a month ago. She has a lot going for her — she’s smart, funny, attractive — but haunted by demons that bedevil her soul and lead her into a lot of self-destructive behavior in terms of interpersonal relationships. I had to completely cut off all communication two days ago, which is a shame. I wish her the best, but I can only take so much of getting late-night text messages expressing suicidal desires — and having to call the police to do a well-person check — before I opt to part company.
- I’m starting to figure out why people who do prison ministry like it so much. The men with whom I interact behind the walls are not what I expected, and their questions and comments challenge me in ways I failed to anticipate. This is good.
- I’m seriously thinking I’m going to take up yoga and kendo later this fall.
All for now!