The final week of 2016 is proving to be quite challenging as everything decided to run amok and go awry all at the same time. I woke up Tuesday morning feeling like the desperate sailors on the ship Jonah was on, and my endless stream of phone calls, lists, budgets, and text messages is my own version of casting lots, a tool proving as useful as other forms of divination. Most of the answers are still blowing in the wind. Basically, all I want to do is curl up on the couch under a blanket and watch Roseanne reruns for days. I turned to the sitcom following my mother's death, and it's the one thing I crave when I need comfort. You know the yule log video of a fireplace that gives you the feeling of sitting in front of an open flame? Having the Connors on my television is like sitting in their living room, and it all feels so familiar to me. I guess that's the point of comfort, huh? It's a piece of familiarity that grounds us in the midst of the unknown. For me, ri

I've been feeling rather reflective these last few days as I've watched life and death work its wonder. I'm sad. I've been sad for a while, but I've been afraid to admit it to myself. Admitting this means so much more than fessing up to the emotion underlying all the complaining and hiding I've been doing. Admitting to the sadness means letting go of something that I let define me...something I've let define me for more than 20 years. Yeah, we go way back, and letting go of something that's been part of your life for so long is really tough. Yet, I've been in enough therapy to know that until I acknowledge and deal with the emotions that connect me to this...this...thing, moving forward will be difficult. Honestly, I think my failure to deal (whatever that means) with this is the reason so much of my life feels stagnant. My thyroid. My weight. My creativity. But today is Christmas. I ran out last night to return a shirt, and the clerk asked me if