In Vegas Placidus

I don’t suppose most people head to Las Vegas anticipating a laid-back, relaxing jaunt.  This most recent visit of mine, however, was surprisingly so.  The trip itself was put together somewhat haphazardly – not last minute exactly, but certainly not planned well in advance.  I simply had a round trip ticket with Southwest to burn sometime before mid-August, and, after considering several alternative destinations, ultimately settled on Vegas.  I put out the word to family and friends, inviting anyone to come along who could and who wanted to.  But after trying to coordinate schedules and finances, etc., it came down to just my sister, Karen, and me.  Well that was okay – we love each other and get along well.  We’ve traveled together before without incident.  So, we booked our flights (me, from St. Louis, she, from Austin), snagged a very reasonably priced hotel room at New York, New York, and began looking forward to our mini-vacation.


Things didn't get off to an ideal start, however. The night before we were scheduled to leave, I received a frantic phone call from Karen -- she'd lost her purse.  Or had it stolen.  Whatever the cause, the result was no purse.  Which means no driver's license, no credit cards, no cash she'd just withdrawn, and an early departure flight the next morning.  Yeah - I'd have been in a panic, too.  As it was, all I knew to do was try and help her calm down and come up with a plan.  Fortunately, Karen's pretty resourceful, and she had an old license, a passport, some other ID, her check book, and a couple credit cards she hadn't kept in the purse, so with some phone calls, and no small amount of angst, she handled the situation, and managed to make her flight the next morning.


My own flight was unremarkable, save for the fact that I cut the timing a little too close to save money by parking in one of the shuttle lots.  Glad I opted to park at the terminal, too, because when I got inside, I was rather surprised to see just how crowded the airport was at 5:45 a.m. on a Wednesday. What the heck?! Here I'd thought I was being all smart and savvy booking an early flight. Guess a few thousand other folks had the same bright idea.


I was slated for a brief layover and plane change in Phoenix.  When I got there, I texted Karen to advise her of my progress and check on hers.  "On the ground in Phoenix."  Imagine my surprise when the reply came back, "Me 2 - just now."  After agreeing on general flight times, we really hadn't discussed them in great detail.  Neither of us realized we'd be in Phoenix at the same time.  Had we coordinated that better, we could have shared the second leg of the flight.  As it was, she came and found me and we checked into switching her to my flight, but nixed that idea when advised of the up-charge.  So, after I arrived in Vegas, I still had an hour or so to kill before she caught up with me.  Cell phones and lap tops are glorious inventions!


We hopped a shuttle to the hotel and forked over the extra $20 for early check-in so we could throw all our stuff in the room and get down to relaxing.  I'd never been to New York, New York before -- it was...colorful?  In a kind of garish, jewel-toned way.  But nice enough.  And the restaurant selection was quite good!  We opted for lunch at Il Fornaio, and sat "outside" (in the fake sort of "outside" casinos manage to fashion), and enjoyed some lovely lunchy food and a glass of wine.  Karen was beat after the previous night's hassles so she decided to rest for a bit in the room.  I, on the other hand, couldn't wait to get out to the pool and the sun.  It was a little crowded out there, but I finally snagged a spot 'neath NY Squared's main attraction -- the roller coaster!

Ahhh - nothing like hot sun, cranked up hip-hop, and the sounds of screaming strangers overhead every five minutes or so to get that rejuvenation going!  Actually, it was fairly relaxing. A little boring, though.  My phone was about out of juice, and without Karen there to talk to, I found myself rather restless.  Eventually, she joined me, and we hung out for a bit before returning to the room and freshening up for our wild evening out.


Though we quickly established neither of us was much up for "wild".  A nice dinner and maybe a stroll seemed about all we could muster.  We wandered over to the MGM Grand and ultimately settled on the Nobhill Tavern.  It looked quiet and cozy.  The service was excellent and the food delicious, if a tad on the pricey side.  (Karen momentarily contemplated the Lobster Pot Pie special.  Until we were informed "market price" for it was $85.  I'm currently looking into investing in lobster.) 


After dinner, we went for a brief stroll along the strip.  We both had a couple of odds and ends we wanted to pick up at the drug store, and though it was still fairly warm out, it wasn't oppressive.  We saw lots of interesting creatures while we were in Vegas.  Yes, I do mean creatures:

We decided Chewy looked like he had a bad case of Mange.  Poor Wookiee! Maybe he just wasn't cut out for the desert. Although, he seemed to manage okay on Tatooine.  Maybe the crazy night life of LV finally caught up to him?

Anyone who's been to Vegas can attest to the wondrous sights one can see there, especially at night -- be they of the human, critter, or structural variety.  I thought The Monte Carlo looked very pretty lit up at night.  As did The Chrysler Building.

Yeah - I always thought that was the Empire State Building, too, but not long ago, during a Trivia Night contest, I learned that I'd been woefully misinformed all these years.  Both tall buildings in New York. But this one? Actually the Chrysler Building!


After an hour or so of strolling, we agreed to head back to our hotel for a drink.  We chose the Nine Fine Irishmen pub which seemed like a right fine and lively drinking establishment.  And indeed, it was.  There was an Irish band playing spirited Irishy music, and some fine Irish lasses river dancing and such.  Unfortunately, Karen and I were dog-tired.  We vowed to last until after midnight -- and we did.  But only just barely. 


Thursday morning, we awoke at a semi-reasonable hour and decided to avail ourselves of the "complimentary" buffet included with our stay. The only catch was that New York, New York didn't actually serve said buffet itself.  We'd have to head over to Excalibur or the MGM or Monte Carlo if we actually wanted to eat.  We settled on the Monte Carlo and moseyed over. The selection was plentiful, and like all good buffets, it possessed the most important ingredient of any meal: Bacon!

After brunch, it was time to shop. And shop, we did.  Very must. (H/t to Rev. Al.)  We started out in the shops at The Monte Carlo.  The first store caught our eye with its rather provocative name:

I won't mention what the t-shirts said. Never have been to an R-rated candy store before.  But, hey, Vegas, I suppose.  Next we moved on through City Centre, and eventually made our way to the Miracle Mile Shops at Planet Hollywood.  We wound our way through the entire complex, stopping to check out these shoes and that dress.  Speaking of shoes, this first pair I had to try on purely so I could take a picture of me wearing them.  They called to mind big white toasters.  Or maybe cinder blocks.

The second pair, I had to try on to know what it felt like to be six feet tall.  And...because I fell in love with them.  And...they were only $40 -- so I had to buy them!  Though I'm not exactly certain when I, or my ankles, will ever work up the courage to wear them. *sigh* Serious shoe love!

At one point, we passed by a bar which was actually called "Stripper Bar".  One thing Vegas is not: subtle!  Then we meandered into the Brighton store.  And, oh, they had such cute things!  Like, for instance, these really cool key chains.  Including this one.  Of a giraffe.  In a French Maid costume.  Or is it a courtier?  A dominatrix?  I'm really not quite sure. I simply know I was fascinated by it, even as I talked myself out of that impulse buy.  I certainly didn't need another key chain.  And it was almost as much as the shoes!

Finally, we were shopped out and decided to head back to hotel.  We stopped in at Gonzalez Y Gonzalez for a mid-afternoon Mexican snack. Okay. It was a full lunch. But we walked a lot that day.  And the margaritas?  Magnificent! 

After that, we were fat, happy, and slightly sassy, so decided some pool time was in order.  Which would have been fine and dandy had our hotel not decided to drain the pool in order to perform maintenance on it.  Instead, we were directed to the pool at The Monte Carlo.  (Sensing a recurring theme here?  Who knew Vegas casinos were so into out-sourcing?!)  Well, that was okay. Truth be told, the pool at The Monte Carlo was probably a bit nicer.  And the sky was the most spectacular shade of blue that afternoon...

On the way back to New York, New York, we ran into Gene Simmons.  (I hear he's endorsed Rick Perry -- don't tell my sis! ;) )

We also found the answer to that age-old question. (No, not, "Why do so many people insist on dragging their small children to Vegas, and pushing them around in strollers out on the Strip at  midnight?!")  "Where's the beef?!"

Karen and I had decided that Thursday night would be the night for our "nice" dinner.  Not that Wednesday night's feast at Nob Hill was remotely shabby.  I've a favorite restaurant in Vegas.  It's called Aquaknox, and it's located in The Venetian, which I've visited often, and yet I've never stayed there.  I do love the look of it, though.

I first fell in love with Aquaknox some six years ago.  I made sure we had my 40th "birthday dinner" there.  And so we determined that it would be Thursday night's treat, as well.  I'm not sure what exactly it is about the place that appeals to me so.  The food is quite good, and the service, typically, is as well.  I think most of all, though, it's the atmosphere and decor.  It's decorated in all these shades of blue and gives one the feeling of being in an underwater palace.  Or maybe just an underwater wine cellar.  Either way, it's a lovely place to dine.  And the food presentation is lovely, as well.  Just feast your eyes on this salad & on Karen's lobster/filet combo:

Om nom nom, indeed!

Once we'd finished our feast, it was off to a bar featuring dueling pianos to meet up with friends Jacque & Michele, who were also in town.  Was great to see them both, and we had much fun catching up and chatting -- though it was a bit loud in the piano bar.  Ultimately, we decided to head back to our hotel and hang out in "The Center Bar." Which actually was rather nice.  There were dancing girls on the bars here, as well, and it had a sort of upscale club feel to it.  Of course, no night would be complete without the obligatory attempted hit-on by boys with fake British accents.  Oh, I suppose they might have been real.  But when the one told me he and his buddy played "soccer," I had to call BS.  Besides. They were young enough to be my.....nephew.  Was wonderful to spend some time with the girls, though!

We actually made it 'til 2:00 a.m. Thursday night.  So proud of us and our wild exploits!  Karen had a late morning flight on Friday, so we got up and grabbed some breakfast in "America".  Interestingly enough, this restaurant featured a huge mural/puzzle/mobile replica of the United States, complete with cute little themes/concepts for each state. Some of these made more sense than others. Still, it was interesting to look at while we ate.  Most importantly, of course, it featured:

My arteries love me so. 

After that, Karen packed up her stuff and headed out to catch the shuttle back to the airport.  The only hitch with that?  You're supposed to call the shuttle company 24 hours in advance to confirm your reservation.  Oops!  (Karen informed me of this during her cab ride to the airport.  Fortunately, since I still had five or six hours, I was able to call and secure my own shuttle ride.)

So...I had time to kill in Vegas, by myself.  What was I to do?  Well, shop some more, of course.  And squeeze in some sight-seeing along the way.  Our hotel really did have some neat features on the exterior:

I also made a point to wander past the Bellagio, where I've vowed that I will one day stay!

Actually, though, I was on a mission at that point.  I wanted -- no needed -- to return to Brighton and adopt that giraffe key chain!  It had stayed with me for 24 hours.  I figured that made it no longer an impulse buy.  I also wanted to check out the Forum Shops at Caesar's Palace.  Have always loved those shops.  And there was this one little jewelry store where one day, long ago, I fell madly in love.  With a black opal ring.  I understand black opals are actually bad luck.  Go figure.  Still, it was a beautiful ring.  And despite its $3,000 price tag, I vowed that one day, I would return to rescue it. Since then, I've visited it several times and we've remained on good terms.  So, you can imagine the bittersweet sorrow I felt upon discovering that the little store, and the jeweled love of my life, were no longer there.  I guess it just wasn't meant to be.... 

The bizarro giraffe, however, clearly was.  So I found the Brighton store there and snagged one right up.  I felt a bit like that Russian dude in the commercial with the miniature giraffe sitting next to him. I haven't tried mine out on the tread mill, yet, though.  (If this makes no sense to you, and yet you're still reading, just nod and smile and take some solace in the fact that no animals were harmed in the writing of this blog.)

On my way back, I wandered through the Bellagio, taking pics of the spectacular panoply of whimsy.  Which, for some reason, reminds me -- I once saw Vanilla Ice in the Bellagio.  No really, it's true.  My sisters and cousins can attest to this.  Although, why the word "whimsy" brings him to mind, I'm not certain.  In any event, here are some of the shots I snapped while there:

And a special treat for all the chocolate lovers out there -- fountains of it!

Yeah. I'm not sure what else to say about that.

By this point, I was getting tired of meandering, and decided to head back to New York, New York so that I could grab some lunch.  And maybe actually find some time to gamble.  Yeah -- I'd spent 48 hours in Vegas at that point and not so much as dropped a dime into a slot machine.  I guess that would be more pathetic if I'd never been there before, but....well, no.  It actually is pretty pathetic regardless. 

I stopped back in at Il Fornaio, and this time, opted to sit at the bar, since I was solo.  God bless the lovely bartender lady who graciously plugged my iPhone in behind the bar for me while I ate, since, once again, it was almost out of juice.  I guess if I didn't live on the thing, that might not happen so frequently, but I do.  So it does. 

Finally, I decided to be bold and get out there and gamble.  There were several "Sex and the City" machines which had caught our eyes the previous day.  I decided to sit down and see what that was about.  Well, it was about three minutes of stupidity.  It's your basic slot machine dolled up to include all the SATC characters and themes.  But $5 still gets eaten by it just as quickly. 

Next, I moved onto video poker, where I've always had a fair amount of luck.  And, true to form, I ultimately ended that up by $7.  I thought about some Roulette, but all the tables were either empty or full.  I did spend about 20 minutes playing the video version of it.  Which frankly is rather lame.  I think I broke even there.  I never did get a chance to sit down and play some Texas Hold 'Em, which is my favorite.  That's almost as sad as the fact that Karen and I actually stayed in the hotel where the roller coaster is located and still never rode it!  I decided that the perfect amount of time in Vegas is three days and three nights.  Next time. 

It was about time for my shuttle to arrive, so I took one last look around and headed outside to wait for it.  In the sun.  In 100 degrees.  For 20 minutes.  Which afforded me a chance to take a couple more good shots of the coaster and the hotel:

And that, as they say, was that.  Yes, it's true.  I went to Vegas and shopped and sunned and ate.  I didn't even drink so much that I forgot any of it.  I barely gambled and never did ride the coaster which was right there in my very own hotel.  In fact, the biggest adrenaline rush I got came on the plane ride back home, when we hit a couple rough patches of turbulence.  And that's the kind of rush I'd just as soon do without.  For the next sixty years.  And then some.  (Have I mentioned I'm not a good flyer?  Yeah, well, I'm not.)  

And for those who've actually slogged all the way through this travelogue of mine, I'll simply say this: If you were anxiously awaiting some sordid, salacious tales, I'm so sorry to disappoint. This was, indeed, a very tame and surprisingly -- but pleasantly -- relaxing sojourn in Sin City. But I do thank you for indulging me and my storytelling!

:)

2011 - The Half Way Mark

At the beginning of the year, I resolved to do the following:

1) Drink more water.

2) Write more.

3) Keep your feet on the ground.

4) Love the people who love you and love them well.

5) Focus on what you have instead of what you don't. 

We're 6 months in, and it's time to take stock once again.  I'm going to go through the list and assign each item a letter grade.

1) B -- I started out strong on this one, but have fallen off.  Too much soda. Too much Red Bull.  Too much lemonade. (We won't mention the tequila.) Time to get back on the H2O kick.

2) A -- A solid "A" on this one.  I've written far more this year.  And shared quite a bit more of my inner goof than I probably should.  But I can live with that. I'm pleased with the direction(s) it's taken me.

3) A- -- I think, for the most part, I'm managing this. Aside from the whole splitting-the-chin-open incident.  Apparently, where I fall down (pun intended) is in keeping the rest of me off it.  Working on that.

4) A -- I'm sure there are times when I get so wrapped up in my worries I forget to let the people who matter most know how very much I love them, but I think -- I hope -- these have been few and far between. 

5) C- -- My greatest struggle.  It isn't for lack of trying.  It just seems I'm not negotiating the learning curve very well.  If I can bring this one up to a "B" by year's end, I'll consider the year a success.

Still, as always, a work in progress. A big thank you and much love to all those who are keeping me company on this trek. 

Father's Day

Earlier today, a friend suggested I be sure to let my Dad know how much of an influence he's had on me. My immediate reaction was one of, "Well, duh!" But then I realized this is not something I do nearly often enough.  My Dad's not the sort of guy who's particularly comfortable with the expression of emotions -- especially not the mushy sort.  I, in turn, have gotten in the habit of not expressing them to him.  And it's kind of a shame.  Because my Dad truly is one of the best men I know. 

He didn't necessarily have what I'd refer to as an easy childhood, (though if I were to bring that up to him, he'd likely dismiss it.) Still, he did well in school, and followed up college with law school. This, in turn, was followed by a two year stint in the Army.  If memory serves correctly, he graduated from law school, married my Mom, and headed off to basic training, all within a two week period in July of 1956. He has steadfastly supported my Mom and our family ever since. 

The memories I have of my Dad from my childhood are of a man who made up silly rhymes and songs and sang them to me. Who made a point to lift me up off my feet whenever we stepped over a curb. Who happily put my stuffed skunk ("Skunkie" -- go figure) on the steering wheel of his car and let him "drive".  Who took me with him to put up campaign signs for various political candidates, and instilled in me early on a keen interest in all things political.

Later, as I became a snotty teenager, our relationship became a bit strained. I know I was no peach to live with, and Dad, I think, always felt at a bit of a loss as to how to interact with me once I was no longer a little girl who giggled at his silliness. Still, he endured my adolescence without throttling me, and even had me come work for him in his law office the summer I was 15.  (All my friends were already 16 and gainfully employed.)  You might think that stint is what inspired my later decision to become a lawyer myself, but mostly, I answered the phones and read romance novels that summer, so I can't rightly say that it was.

There's no denying, however, that his career choice influenced my own. I don't know that I consciously thought of it that way when I chose to follow in his footsteps.  But I do know that within me has always been the desire to make him proud.  I know that I am certainly proud of him. He's worked hard all his life. He's been a good husband to my Mom. He's been a die hard Tiger fan and alum. He's always been active in politics and, though our philosophies no longer align, I greatly respect his dedication to his beliefs.  He's not only attended the same church for almost 50 years, he's given countless hours of his time to it, serving in multiple capacities.  He's turning 78 in a month and still goes out for a 3 mile jog (or, as he calls it, "chog") on a regular basis.

One thing that's meant so much to me over the years is how very many times when I've encountered someone who knows my Dad, the first thing they've said is, "He is the nicest man."  It's true. My Dad is nice.  He is kind.  He is a gentle man and a gentleman. And though he may not verbalize it well or often, I have no doubt that he loves me.  He has always been there for me, whether it was helping me find a job, or picking up my daughter on short notice, or helping me wrestle a lawnmower.  I'm sure that there are times he doesn't quite know what to make of me, but he never wavers in his support of me.  And I am so very lucky to have him as a father. 

Love you, Dad.  Happy Father's Day.

Honey Badger Don't Care

Many of you netizens are likely familiar with the infamous Honey Badger and his non-caring ways.  For any who aren't, I give you this: http://youtu.be/4r7wHMg5Yjg  It's well worth the watch. (Warning: Snappy Language; Mellivorate Culinary Violence.)  This viral video spawned the catchphrase "Honey Badger don't care." It even has its own Twitter hashtag: #HBDC. But for all its twisted silliness, it occurred to me this morning, as I conversed with my good friend Di, that perhaps there is a lesson to be learned from Honey Badger.

I've been characterized, at times, as a "Type A," and at others as an "Alpha Female."  I don't always see myself that way, though I can understand why I may be perceived as such.  In part, it comes with the territory of being a litigator.  Passivity and meekness don't really go hand-in-hand with courtroom advocacy. You're regularly called upon to do battle, albeit with wit and words, rather than swords, but it does require a certain degree of aggressiveness.  Then, too, I was brought up believing that I was capable of doing almost anything I put my mind to -- that with enough hard work, focus, and perseverance, I could achieve most any goal.

And that's what most of us are taught from a young age: Choose a goal; formulate a plan for achieving it; put your nose to the grindstone and go after it. No, you won't always succeed, but that's certainly the best recipe for doing so.  This methodology applies to virtually every facet of our lives: education, career, finances, athletics, artistic expression.  Wherever your passions lay, this is how you pursue them. 

Except relationships. There's something unique about the human heart that causes it to defy logic and throw all the regular rules of "success" out the window.  Especially from the female perspective.  Regardless of "how far we've come," there's something inherent to the male-female dynamic that makes aggressive pursuit of one's "goal(s)" unseemly, to say the least.  Visions of Glenn Close and bunnies aboil on the stove leap to mind. 

This doesn't, of course, prevent girls and women from doing just that.  But I've yet to see positive results yielded from that approach -- for anyone I know.  Instead, we are taught, either overtly, or by experience, to passively sit and wait for Prince Charming to come along and sweep us off our feet.  That love will only happen when we aren't looking for it to.  That, while it may be a laudable goal, it is not something we work towards.  (Never mind the fact that once found, it often does require work to not be lost.) 

Anyone who knows me well at all, or who's read enough of my blogs, knows I'm a romantic at heart.  Though life's bumps and bruises have taught me that fairy tales are just that, I still find myself drawn to that ideal.  I am hardly alone in this, I realize.  But to be honest, for me, it's become a liability.  Rather than focusing on what I have (which is so very much) instead of what I don't, I keep stubbing my toe on the threshold between the two.  And that, in turn, has caused me to lose focus on the things in my life over which I can reasonably expect to exert some control.

I've been called stubborn at times, too.  This is not at all an unfair characterization.  And I'm learning that there lurks inside me a stubborn child who, much like the 16 year old me, demanding a later curfew for my 17th birthday or nothing at all, seems poutily determined not to focus on and enjoy all the blessings God has given me unless I can have my fairy tale, too.  Yeah.  That'll get me far.  No.  No, in fact, it won't.  It'll get me forever entrenched in underachievement and Poor Me-hood.  Not to mention put a strain on my relationship with God.  I'm pretty sure He has my number. 

So, what's a hopeless romantic to do if she wants to free herself of these silly self-imposed bonds?  She might do well to take a page out of Mr. Honey Badger's book.  Because, you know, Honey Badger don't care.  And that seems to work pretty well for him.  He's singular in his focus and successful in his pursuits.  You don't see him lazing around, daydreaming about his honey badgerette soul mate.  You don't see him moping, when he should be out snarfing down cobras. 

Now, don't you worry about yours truly turning into a jaded old badger.  There's still plenty in my life to care about, and I will do so happily. I just think it's well past time to set aside the things that distract and detract from my pursuit of goals that are not only worthwhile, but actually attainable through hard work and focus.  Thanks, Honey Badger.  Even if you don't care.  ;)

The Latest in Smiles

I keep telling myself I'm going to do this every day.  Or, at least, every other day. And then the days slip away, and the smiles go forgotten.  So...here are those I can recall from the past few days:

• My exchange with Riley Friday night: Riley: For Halloween I want to be Hermione or Fr... Me: Frodo? Riley: No. That would be awkward.
• Finding the perfect new bathroom set for Riley -- So long, little kid fishy motif. Hello, hummingbirds!
• Trying to explain to her why her cousin was being a little grumpy the other day, and her response, "Hormones."
• Helping my good friend Ned celebrate his 40th -- he truly reminds me of George Bailey -- and having far too much fun with the Cedarmill Crew.
• Successfully completing Mission "Secretly Replace Mom & Dad's Prehistoric Computer with One that Actually Works" -- even if it may still take them some time to get used to it.
• Making new WWF friends.
• Hearing from the right people at the right time in the right way.
• Knowing I am missed.
• ATM jokes and the folks who put the "wit" in Twitter.

:)

GrOWN Up

Remember when you were a kid and thought about what it meant to be a "grown up"?  It was one of those difficult concepts -- for me, anyway. I mean, I knew plenty of grown ups, but I never could quite wrap my brain around what it would be like to be one myself.  The closest I could get was this sort of abstract combination of my mother and myself.  Even then, I never gave much thought to what being a grown up actually meant, aside from being bigger and being old enough to drive and do other age-restricted things.

I'm not certain at what point one actually qualifies for "grown up" status.  If it's purely a chronological thing, then I would think by age 21. Certainly, for those who take the traditional collegiate path post-highschool, by the time one graduates and either moves on to graduate school or enters the full-time job market.  Psychologially, I suspect the answer is a bit murkier.  I have friends who had their own places and were largely self-sufficient by the time they were 22 or so.  I, on the other hand, was still a student, in large part dependent on my parents. 

And even though much of my law school years were spent essentially "on my own" in Chicago, I don't know that I can rightfully characterize that time as one of true independence.  After all, I still traveled "home" to my parents' on holidays and summer break and still was dependent upon them, to a minimal extent, financially.  Upon graduation, I moved back to St. Louis and continued living at home with them for two-and-a-half years.  Though chronologically of age, I remained the child in that relationship dynamic. 

Moving from their house into the one I shared with my now-ex failed to clearly define my grown upness. One would think that home ownership, marriage, and if nothing else, parenthood, might serve as bright line indicators.  But I don't know that I ever reached a point where I thought, "Okay...NOW I'm a grown up."  Hard to say if that's a reflection of immaturity, or simply a recognition that I still was not the singular captain of my ship. When you're in a partnership like that, you do have (and hopefully meet) certain responsibilities, but there is still a sense of dependence on the other person to help steer and chart your life's course.

Professionally, I've worked for/with the same people for 18 years now.  In particular, my mentor, Sam, has been much like a second father to me.  A "work father," if you will.  I have been and remain perhaps too dependent on him.

And it's occurred to me in recent months that I've never fully stepped up and taken ownership of my own life.  I've always looked to others to guide me and depended on them for their direction - professionally, familially and romantically.  The realization that I'm really no longer in a position to expect such guidance from anyone on any of those counts has been an unsettling one. In truth, it's left me feeling adrift. 

And it's forced me to re-evaluate what it truly means to be a "grown up", part of which, quite literally, is "own up."  Own up to your mistakes.  Own up to your faults.  Take ownership of your actions.  Take ownership of your outlook.  Take stock of where you are and where you want to be.  Take responsibility for all of it.  Quit looking to someone else (aside from God) to lead the way.

It surprises me, I think, to be the age I am and only now fully coming to these realizations.  I look around and see plenty of my contemporaries whom I consider "grown ups" -- whom I have considered grown up for quite some time.  In fact, I see plenty of my not-so-contemporaries who qualify, as well -- people who seem to have little difficulty acknowledging that they have dues to pay, responsibilities to meet, and don't seem particularly unsettled by this.  (They stand, of course, in stark contrast to those folks we all know -- the perpetual children who remain convinced that life is a playground and all responsibility and blame lies with others.)  I don't think I'd place myself in that latter category.  But I've this sense of having been in a state of suspended animation.  Perhaps, because of the various protectors I had in my life, insulating me from its harshest realities, I never really understood and accepted all of adulthood's implications. 

I'm starting to now.  Which isn't to lay claim to any true degree of maturity on my part. Maybe just to the realization that I am the captain of this ship. And whether it sinks or sails is pretty much up to me. No excuses.

Funny thing about that -- not long ago, I was discussing some of these concepts with Riley. Instilling in her the importance of working hard and setting goals and going after what you want in life, instead of being passive and fearful or lazy about it all.  After about ten minutes of discussion, she looked over at me and said, "So, basically what you're saying is: 'Don't let your life pass you by waiting for it to happen.'"  Kind of scary to think my kid may understand what it means to be a grown up better than I do.

A Weekend's Worth of Smiles

I had a good weekend. There are always ways we wish life could be different.  There are always "if only's" whispering in our ears.  But there are so many blessings and reasons to smile:

• Watching Riley's softball team - every game they play, they just get better and better. It's so amazing to watch them execute.  Three double-plays this weekend, plus some amazing hits. And 2/3 wins. 
• Enjoying the company of her dad and step-mom (or my "step-wife", as I prefer to call her). Divorce is never an ideal situation. But I do consider myself one of the luckiest divorced people on the planet. I am so very grateful that my daughter gets to have parents who are friends.
• Getting to spend a day with my girls, enjoying good food and drink, and watching the Cards beat the Cubs.  Who cares if it was hotter than Hades? We still had a great time!
• Having a best friend who lives so close to me.
• Finding inspiration and churning out a blog without agonizing it.
• Enjoying a nice dip in the pool to cool off, and the company of more good friends this evening.
• Reading another friend's foray into the world of blogging - I love it when people find their voice!
• Recognizing that everywhere I turn, I am blessed to have good people in my life.

:)