A coworker and I went to lunch today. Something must have been in the sushi, because a few hours afterwards she and I were giddy and we each had a massive sweet tooth.

We kicked around the idea of snagging a piece of cake at Albertsons, but decided that would be too gluttonous after our large lunch. Perhaps a diet soda from the agency fridge would satisfy, but in the end, we bypassed all options. As we sat chatting, I reached for my back scratcher. Yes, a back scratcher. See, my first week at the new gig, I was a mess. I managed to stretch my legs out under my L-shaped desk and stub my toe on a weird, covert cubby that was hiding in the dark corner — thus splitting my big toenail right down the middle. It took four months to finally grow out and look normal. There’s more. A large couch sits just outside my door, so when I leave my office, I’m always trying to avoid it. That first week, however, I ran into it three times. That same week, I had an itch on my back that I couldn’t reach very easily, but I was determined to contort my body in such a way that I’d be able to scratch it and find relief. In the process, I pulled a muscle and sat in pain for a few moments, still with the itch on my back. After feeling sorry for myself, I vowed that I’d go out and purchase a back scratcher since I’m apparently getting old. I ended up buying not just one, but two: one for work, and one for home. This afternoon after sushi, we were chatting in my office. I have a window that faces a large common area, and a couch just below that window. It’s such a low couch, however, that if I’m talking to someone and they’re sitting on it, someone walking past my window can’t see them; it looks like I’m chatting with nobody and cracking myself up (which wouldn’t be unheard of, frankly). I get a lot of weird looks from people who seem to feel sorry that I’m talking to myself, so we decided that anyone sitting on the couch needs a periscope of sorts to see others’ hysterical expressions of confusion and pity first-hand. It’s good comedy, lemme tell ya.

My back scratcher was in plain view, so we made a periscope prop out of it, with my coworker hiding below the window and using the back scratcher to peek up and look around out into the common area. It was the stupidest thing, but we were in stitches.

Then we decided to turn it into a puppet. Before I knew it, she was scurrying out of my office with the back scratcher, and moments later she returned with a paper Slash — complete with guitar and top hat; he was ready for some window acting. A few other coworkers passed by as mini-Slash danced back and forth along the windowsill. Almost on cue, the confused expressions began again.

We were laughing so hard tears were beginning to appear in our eyes.

Should we make another paper puppet, say — create a miniature C.C. DeVille — and have guitarist wars in my window? Or maybe we should recreate the original Guns lineup?! The possibilities are as endless as the cans of hairspray used by 80s glam rockers.

Alas, only one paper puppet graced our afternoon, and before we knew it, it was 5 o’clock. Perhaps we’ll create more another day.

Tonight I am thankful for a ridiculous, hysterical afternoon filled with silly antics, and for a light-hearted way to ease into a long weekend. Perhaps not the most productive afternoon I’ve ever had, but corny shenanigans shared with a coworker are priceless.

I don’t know about the rest of you here in SoCal, but I’m ready for this humidity to hit the road.

I’d happily deal with the high 80s at 7pm otherwise. But when the air is heavy and you feel as though you’ve been smacked in the face with a warm, damp towel each time you walk outside, it’s just not nice. The last thing I feel like doing is standing outside and watering in the evening; bugs lazily fly through the air, birds are less eager to fly away, my energy is sapped so I’m moving slowly — even the cat can rarely be bothered to get up from his comfy patch of concrete and come inside to a cooler environment.

The flowers outside are fainting in the heat, the flowers inside are drooping because the A/C isn’t running all day and my lethargy inspires hours on the couch.

As one of my more simple posts, the humidity and heat made me remember tonight how fortunate I am to live where I do, how lucky I am to be able to have a yard to water, flowers to take care of, A/C to run and a couch to flop down on at the end of the day. Many have more, and many have much less. But if this crazy humidity inspires gratitude, at the end of the day that’s all I can ask for.

We live in a world where visiting a card catalog is no longer necessary to find a book, a periodical or anything else to write a report. It’s a world where people can be “discovered” not on the street, but online.

We have more resources at our disposal than ever before, but it seems like we don’t always take advantage of everything that’s at our fingertips.

They say that the more money you make, the more you spend. I know this has been true for me. As far as resources go, it seems this is a matter of opposites. For although I realize that I have more resources today than I did 20 years ago, the more complacent I’ve become.

I clearly should be moved to action. Musical aspirations? There are free means of promoting my compositions. But have I? No.

While I’ve managed to take this year and use it for one dedicated to writing, and while I’m glad that I’m not just blogging daily but that I’ve set it up to post automatically for the public (regardless of how small or large my “public” is), I wonder what other resources I’ll bother to find and take advantage of next year.

Sometimes I wonder whether the complacency is because I’m aware that while there are more avenues for communication, I therefore have potentially more dead ends awaiting my efforts…the dreaded “no outlet,” if you will.

Then I wonder which is worse: letting a dream live only in my head, or never letting it see whether there’s a crack in the wall just beyond the “no outlet” sign. A crack is a crack is a crack. And sometimes we need only the tiniest of openings to make something happen.

Tonight I am thankful for all of the resources this world offers, and for the knowledge that if I take advantage of none of them, I’m giving nothing more than a death sentence to my dreams. Here’s to identifying every possible resource that can make our dreams take flight, and to honing our craft in the meantime.

Confession: I’m a fearful person.

Whenever I fly, like I did yesterday and the day before, a string of unhealthy thoughts about crashing plagues me. The first time I flew for the new gig, it was before my insurance kicked in. Not that health insurance has anything to do with anything after I’m involved in a fiery wreck — nor does it have anything to do with legal matters after the fact, but the fear prompted me to get my stuff in order (shameless LegalZoom plug).

Yesterday, my fear of flying encouraged me to have a second glass of wine at lunch, which consisted of a giant plate of iceberg lettuce masquerading as an Asian-chopped-salad-thingy of-sorts. Its disguise was terrible.

When I say that I’m a fearful person, however, I don’t mean your everyday, common phobias. I mean stuff that perhaps should be worked out by a therapist. And while I have had calling one on my to-do list for a while, the stubborn part of me thinks that I already have the answers.

In truth, I’m a little fearful of what else they’d have to say. See? There’s that pesky fear thing again.

Yesterday I was asked why I blog every day. The answers are many, but they lead to other areas that could use some uncovering. I blog because:

– …I read a devotion on January 2nd that prompted me to think that blogging daily would be a great exercise

– …every dream has a beginning; I’ve always wanted to be a writer, so instead of wishing, I figured I’d better start somewhere; this is my practice year

-…short of breathing, blinking, swallowing, using the facilities and probably yawning, I’ve never done anything on a daily basis. This is an act of exercising a muscle, and when you do it, you get better. My writing may not win any awards, but I’m doing it. And for me, I know I’m getting better on a few levels.

-…I’ve always loved writing, and writing is a way for me to say everything I want to say without getting cut off or interrupted (Lookie there! Hints of an “issue.”)

There are a ton of reasons why I blog — likely too many to write down. Part of the reason for this blog is to learn to edit less and share more. Not only that, but to also be OK about doing it. I don’t share a ton in “real life” because, honestly, I’ve grown really tired of people repeating things to others when I intended for only one person to hear, and my gender can be super-duper catty. It makes me weary. As a result, I like to fly solo a lot of the time.

Sadly, in terms of sharing on this blog, I haven’t done it a lot; a lot of what I write tends to be very surface. Some posts are even so lacking that they exist merely to check the box of having blogged on a daily basis; I call them my throw-away posts. Interestingly, they’re sometimes the ones that get the most reaction. But I think a bigger reason I’m not more open is because I am afraid of what people would think. Then I realized that everyone probably feels that way on some level.

We may not stand up for someone else because we fear the ridicule would turn our way.

We may not love because we fear rejection.

We may not try because we fear failure.

But without trying, we can never attain.

Without loving, our heart doesn’t get the growth spurt it longs to experience.

And without sharing, we keep a part of ourselves locked up and isolated instead of allowing others to see it, to understand it or even to relate to it.

Tonight I am thankful for remembering part of why I blog, for realizing my fear of sharing and for once again starting over in — hopefully — chipping away at it bit by bit.

I’m pretty familiar with highlights. I get them monthly, and over the last 13 years, my mane has cost me as much as a new car.

Yesterday, however, I was treated to different highlights. They’re highlights you can only experience when you’re flying. When the sun is setting on a crystal clear day and you’re flying over dark, craggy mountains, every few seconds there’s a gift that the landscape below provides. A stream, river or lake — otherwise indiscernible from its surroundings — will grab hold of the light and throw a burst of gold towards the sky. As quickly as you’re able to spot it, it disappears. A few miles further, however, another stream catches the light. Before long, the land looks like it’s been decorated with a thousand twinkle lights flickering on and off.

Staring out the window to the west, the sun making its way toward the horizon with each passing moment, made me feel like I was floating somewhere between heaven and a dream. There was no turbulence, there were no clouds and there was no haze in the sky. Just magic highlighting the otherwise hidden parts of the earth.

Tonight I am thankful for the new view I wad given, and for the sparkling, golden glimmering memories that I’ll forever have in my memory. My monthly highlights are all fine and dandy, but the highlights I was treated to yesterday were priceless.

The other day I was driving home from work and I passed a park that typically has many a duck, goose, bird and other winged friend lazily wandering about.

I saw an older man feeding one. He had his hand outstretched, and there was a large goose blissfully nibbling away at the offerings his palm held.

The man was still and patient, and he was down on the ground in a manner that made it almost appear as though he was in the middle of a deep bow or curtsy. He appeared reverent, as he was on one knee with his head hung. He seemed to be careful of not staring them down, as perhaps they would’ve felt threatened. But his statuesque quality made our feathered friends flock to his side.

The scene was beautiful, and for a split second it looked like he was expressing his appreciation for their existence. He probably was, as there’s something I’ve always gotten from feeding an animal. A hand outstretched to a creature we have limited means of communicating with is a kind gesture, and one that could very well be the beginning of a long friendship. It’s seemingly what this man wanted, and for all I knew, perhaps he’d been there daily and had built up trust with the animals. It was such a peaceful thought.

Tonight I am thankful for witnessing such a calm, serene moment as I drove by. During the hustle and bustle of my evening commute home, it was a breath of fresh air and calming to my mind to see such an exchange interaction taking place.

Some days I think I know a lot about a lot.

Other days, I feel like I know absolutely nothing.

On the topic of love, I feel like I know everything yet absolutely zilch. On the topic of life, same thing.

Some days I dole out wisdom as though they’re words I seemingly live by. On other days, I realize exactly how much those words are simply words — and that I would never abide by them myself.

Sometimes I feel content with the life I have, and other times I want the exact opposite — minus the kids and massive mortgage, that is.

Today I was reminded of what is most important to me in life, and my hope for all my tomorrows is that the subject of my importance is — simply — at peace with life.

Tonight I am thankful for so much — including the ability to wish the same level of contentment on others. I appreciate and am grateful for the little things and, for as many of those things are small and tiny — simple things, if you will — I simply wish for others to have the same appreciation and love for life that enables them to take a breath…over and over again, day in and day out, and to enjoy what they have.

“The partying was just something to do to kill the time between gigs.”

Slash, featuring Myles Kennedy and the Conspirators, was on Audience Channel tonight. Pretty amazing stuff, and just what I needed on this fine Friday night.

A lot of territory was covered. The Guns days, the lost decade colored by addiction, getting clean, being a solo artist and finding great musicians to jam with. Seems like often times simply jamming can turn into a band, and I’m pretty confident that’s one of the best parts about playing music. It’s certainly one of mine.

One of the questions Nic Harcourt asked was whether partying was a big draw for Slash. He responded by saying that the real draw was just playing music — and that partying was just for all other times in between practicing, playing, jamming and gigging.

It made me start thinking about all the things on my to-do list and how I get sidetracked by things that are fun, but that weren’t part of the original goal. They’re a good time and others may like their look on the outside, but it wasn’t part of what the deal should’ve been.

At the end of the day, we all have a limited amount of time here. Some of us have longer than others, but we rarely do we know what our timeline looks like. We can kill part of our time with diversions, or we can take meaningful breaks to recharge. For me, there’s a big difference between the two.

Tonight I am thankful for the wake-up call that helped me remember to not be so quick to pardon my wasted time. It gave me a swift kick in the butt to get back to focusing on checking off things on my list so that I can stop killing time and instead define it by my version of true living.

Here’s to productivity.

I read an article earlier today about how listening to complainers is bad for your brain.

The author mentioned that when he finds himself trapped by a complainer or venter that he finds a desire to be somewhat understanding towards (e.g., a coworker), he essentially pretends like he’s listening, but takes a vacation elsewhere.

In his case, he imagines a private island with a winding, sandy pathway and pictures himself tuning out and taking a peaceful stroll. The island is one that he saw in a magazine once upon a time, and it stuck with him.

He remembers to nod when appropriate and seem as though he’s taking all of the venting and frustrations in, but in reality, he’s retreating during the ranting and raving so that he doesn’t bring himself down.

I found myself thinking about the places I wander. I wander to Vermont, even though I’ve never been.

I wander to Lake Como even though I’ve never been.

I wander to Greece, to London and to Tuscany — all despite the fact that I’ve never been.

But the author wraps up his article by saying that eventually he got a chance to really visit that island — and that it was as beautiful as he imagined. And if he can carve that road out for himself, perhaps I’ll be able to travel my own roads to Greece, to London and Tuscany someday.

Here’s to taking the walks that we all imagine in our minds.

My TV viewing habits are pretty tame. The most drama I’m ever really in the mood for can be found on Iron Chef America.

I’d rather watch someone on their international hunt for a new home than watch housewives duke it out (although the latter has become an occasional guilty pleasure).

I prefer watching a bride hunt for the perfect dress instead of watching someone get all ‘zilla on her soon-to-be groom, family and friends.

I’m a fan of watching tips on what not to wear and less of a fan of shows where the spotlight is on orange skin, animal print spandex and one person wearing multiple bras to get massive cleavage. Talk about false advertising.

Being employed by a media agency, I’ve had a nagging feeling for a while that I really need to branch out and watch, well, things I wouldn’t normally tune into. I decided to ease into things tonight and found myself watching The Big Bang Theory, which I was surprised that I enjoyed.

Feeling encouraged, I tuned into Conan and was delighted Jack Black was on the show. Holy jackpot, my branching out was going to turn into an addiction.

I haven’t laughed so hard at television in ages. Everyday Italian dishes aren’t funny, they’re delicious.

Losing a cooking battle and being chopped isn’t funny — it’s all part of the challenge.

The white noise that characterizes hours of weather coverage isn’t funny, it’s soothing…for me, anyway.

But there was something about laughing repeatedly at a nerdy sitcom and at Jack Black that I desperately needed tonight. It was pleasure that can’t be found while watering the yard, nor from enjoying a glass of wine. It was silly, stupid laughter. Laughter from knowing first-hand about the annoying truths that a sitcom highlights, and laughter from the less-than-politically-correct banter. I’m thinking I’ll have a repeat of tonight fairly soon.

Tonight I am thankful for branching out — for the sake of work, natch — and for the comic relief that I didn’t know I was in for. It was all proof that if you open up more than you’re used to, something good is usually just around the corner. And if this post was merely inspired by The Big Bang Theory and an episode of Conan, what else can programming spur? Let’s find out.