I just sent my grown son off to his first day of his last year of high school. Not to sound all melancholy and sentimental, but it really does seem like just yesterday that I walked him to kindergarten. You know, with his short little legs needing to take two steps to every one of my own, his backpack weighing him down slightly, even though there was next to nothing in it. And that look on his face – sort of a mixture between absolute fear, bubbling excitement, and pride.

In fact, I was reminded ever more clearly of that day when I ignorantly went for a walk this morning, right around the time the elementary school buses were out. As if my tear ducts needed any more coaxing on this fine, fine day.

Here’s the thing. Love is a funny animal. There are many different kinds of love – romantic love, sibling love, friendship, parents and children, extended family, and self love (do not chuckle, that is NOT what I meant!). There is also love of country, love of God, love of one’s fellow man. We all know this.

But there are also many phases of love. In each relationship that we have, especially the long-term, life sentence ones, love can change, evolve, transform, over the years. This is not a bad thing. It’s just the way it is.

Okay so maybe my kid was getting into his car instead of holding my hand, and maybe he wasn’t grinning from ear to ear with a little skip to his step and freshly sharpened pencils and a shiny new lunchbox. My love for him may be different than it was when he was small, but it is the same in all the ways that matter, and it certainly isn’t any less.

Strip away all that other stuff. Don’t dwell on memories and pine for the good old days, don’t worry about the future. Close your eyes in this moment and think about the person you love. And just feel that. Don’t try to figure it out, because you can’t. Just feel it and smile because of how lucky you are to have the opportunity to love at all.

Think of someone that you loved and lost. Whether you lost that person to disease or addiction, a tragedy, or just plain old drifted apart. Would you give up the opportunity to have known and loved that person just to save yourself heartache? Of course you wouldn’t.

Yes, there will be times when it feels like someone dropped a cinder block on your chest cavity and stepped on it while sitting atop an elephant. And yes, there will be days when you would prefer being struck by a bus, in your laundry day underwear, than opening your eyes and getting out of bed. But these times will pass. There is always, always a better day coming up. Love is worth it every time.

I know that I am over-simplifying all this. There are a gazillion different situations and stories, and I am limited to what I’ve heard about, seen, or experienced. But this I know to be true... Love is messy, complicated, and can be very sad. And it is indeed crazy. But love is never stupid. Not stupid at all.

Do you ever find yourself innocently going about your day, when you suddenly stumble upon something familiar that just chaps your ass quite illogically?

I’m talking about those little things that you simply cannot tolerate, for no reason that you can fathom. Everyone has them, these tiny annoyances that truly push your buttons. Some admit to them, some don’t. And for good reason. These little provocations can be quite embarrassing, and frankly they can make a person seem… well… like a hater.

I personally have exactly seven things that really get me going with the full-on scowl, the eyes rolling back into my head, and the muttered string of curse words under my breath. I thought that by admitting to mine, it would make it easier to help others open up about their little hates.

I’m here to help, people. It’s a gift.

Here we go…

Number 1. Bumper stickers - either with initials that no one can possibly decipher the meaning, or the ones that are printed too small to read so you have to risk life and limb creeping up close to the car going seventy-five miles per hour on the highway, because you’re sure the sticker must be witty and fascinating, and you absolutely can’t go on with life until you know exactly what it says.

Number 2. The expression “my bad”. Ugh! Hate it.

Number 3. Loud cell phone talkers. This includes those on Blue Tooth in the grocery store, those who walk through the neighborhood with their phone on speaker, and those who just yell into the phone so they can be sure everyone will stop and stare. Yes, we get it – you’re super cool. And important. You have an IPhone. What a trend setter.

Number 4. Families who vacation with small children in the city of Las Vegas. In case you didn’t know this, LV is nicknamed “Sin City”. Um, dude… ever hear of Disney?

Number 5. Ridiculous commercials. Yes, it’s absolutely normal to drink beer and order a pizza while partying in a modular home while traveling across country on the back of a tracker trailer. And Matthew McConaughey, I love you, but you should be ashamed of yourself for those Lincoln commercials. Downright appalling.

Number 6. Christmas decorations… and God help me… Christmas music… before Halloween. I get that we have become a ridiculously consumer centered society, but for the love of Mary, Joseph, and the Baby Jesus – everyone knows that the Christmas season starts the day AFTER Thanksgiving, thank you very much. There will be no Joy to my World, and certainly no Decking of my Halls, any time before the last Friday in November. Try and shove it down my throat? I will hurt you.

Number 7. Worms, gin, peas, the expression ‘due diligence’, the word ‘moist’, wind, dull pencil points, fake people, mean people, people who never smile, and celebrities that ruin their faces with plastic surgery. (Yes, I’m counting those all as one thing. Because I can, and you’re not the boss of me.)

Whew! Now that I’ve shared, and the ice is broken, and we’re all comfortable with each other, I would like to take this opportunity to also present you with seven things that I absolutely love, just so you see that I am not a complete lost cause.

And… go -

Number 1. Coffee. But not just any coffee. The very first sip of delicious Joe in the morning. Nothing else compares. I usually close my eyes every time, just to savor it even more. It is one of the best reasons for waking up in the morning.

Number 2. Live music. The louder the better. And sorry, but no jazz.

Number 3. When I’m reading a book, and I reach a point early on where I realize I’m gonna really love this story. I still have several hundred pages left to pore over, and it’s so good it might be worth missing sleep to finish the next chapter.

Number 4. Taking off my shoes after a long day. Knowing that I don’t have to put those little foot prisons back on for at least another twelve hours makes me, and my sore little piggies, very happy indeed.

Number 5. The sound of heavy rain against the window on a Sunday morning when I can sleep in. There is nothing more comforting.

Number 6. The smell of a movie theater. It doesn’t even matter if the movie sucks. I just adore the entire movie-going experience. I don’t even mind that I have to remortgage my house to pay for it. I will still buy the biggest tub of popcorn and the largest Mr. Pibb available. And I will happily finish them both, by myself (don’t even try to take any of my damn popcorn!), before the opening credits.

Number 7. Ducks on the water. Nope, not Smoke on the Water. Ducks. There’s this path I usually walk on that runs beside a creek or stream or river or brook or whatever – it’s moving water; and there are always a few ducks just hanging out. Some are beautiful mallard ducks and some are just the ugly garden variety. But I am mesmerized by the graceful, effortless way they glide across the water. It makes me smile every time.

More things that make me smile, you ask? But of course!

Cheese, new shoes, purple, Hogwarts, the absolute silence after a snowfall, the way my cat, Lucy, squeaks instead of purrs, fart jokes, hugs, gerbera daisies, the word 'fisticuffs', laughter, and old farmhouses.

See. That wasn’t so difficult. And we’ve proven here today that I am not a hater after all. I just as easily came up with more than seven things that bring me outright joy.

So it’s okay, people. It’s okay to admit to the “little” things that piss you off. Shout it from the rooftop, announce it on the Megatron, write it in the sky.

This thing annoys me.

That thing sets my teeth on edge.

This thing makes me want to stick a fork in someone’s eye socket.

As long as you balance out those irritants with things that make you smile… you’re gonna be just fine.

Trust me. I know things.

Have you ever stopped a minute to ponder this question? I mean really break it down. Why did that chicken cross the road? He had so many other options. He could’ve gone right, he could’ve gone left, he could’ve gone back the way he came from.

But something stopped that chicken from doing any of those other things. Something beckoned that chicken to CROSS the ROAD. Now was that the safe choice? Probably not. But who’s to say if the chicken went right that he wouldn’t drop off the edge of a ravine to his own certain death. And how do you know for sure that if he went left he wouldn’t find himself in a barren land with no color and no sounds, no food and no companionship.

And going back the way he came from? That may have been the worst option of all. Because maybe what he came from was not what he had always envisioned for himself. Back there, he knew what the outcome would be. Crossing the road was an unknown, and it was the option that brought him the farthest from where he had been.  

You may think that chicken was stupid for crossing the road. Maybe you assume it was just a random decision – not even something he contemplated.

But I beg to differ. That chicken was brave. He did the most unconventional thing he could have done. He took a risk.

We could all learn a little something from that chicken. When is the last time you took a risk?

Now I’m not talking about suddenly going out and strapping on a helmet so that you can live on the edge in the fabulous world of extreme sky-diving. I’m not saying you should promptly drop everything and move to Tahiti. And please, don’t sell all your possessions tomorrow so that you can live your life-long dream as a bush-pilot. Although, if any of those things really speak to you… by all means, knock yourself out.

I’m telling you that sometimes you just have to say, F*ck Convention! You want to wear white after Labor Day? Do it! You don’t want to drive a mini-van even though every other mother on the planet insists you can’t live without one? Then don’t!

You want to start a brand new career or go back to school at fifty? Go for it! You always wanted to visit Paris? Oui en effet! You want to go to the grocery store with no bra and no makeup? No one’s stopping you! (and no one will notice)

My point is that every now and then we have to step out of our comfort zone – or other people’s comfort zone - in order to really experience life. And we do not have to fit into any mold. Embrace your unique way of thinking and doing things. Celebrate your crazy! Lighten up, and re-invent yourself once in a while.  

Every decision we make shapes us. Every path we choose leads to a different outcome. We can play it safe, or we can dare to venture into uncharted waters.

I always loved those stories with the “write your own endings”, when I was younger. It was fun for me to pick the craziest options every time I had to choose. It certainly made the story more entertaining, and much less predictable.

Playing it safe is all well and good, but we will always wonder what we missed by not choosing that other, less traveled path.

Take risks. Be bold. Life if short and it is what we make of it. You can be a chicken, and revel in the comfort of the familiar, or you can be a Chicken, and cross the damn road. 

Today I would like to talk about a little something that affects each and every one of us. I am speaking, of course, about a little epidemic we like to call PMS.

Now I do not claim to have this all figured out – this PMS is a phenomenon that quite possibly will remain a mystery forever. But I do have a few thoughts on this very important subject. My hope for you is that you will take what little advice I have, and pair it with any wisdom you have gleaned over the years in order to be all the wiser the next time you encounter this unpleasant malady.

Knowledge is power. And if we all pull together, I believe we can save lives.

PMS - which I refer to as ‘Positively Mental Shitstorm’ - is the affliction that causes a person to fly into a fit of rage because their pants mysteriously shrunk while hanging in the closet overnight or someone ate the last yogurt and forgot to write it on the list.  It can bring on an instantaneous flood of tears simply over a missing set of car keys, an overcooked steak, or an ill-timed red light. It can prompt a strongly written letter to your congressman informing him of the mismanagement of the local trampoline park, or cause a very ugly scene in Macy’s over a price on a mislabeled comforter.

PMS can get so intense that often times women have been known to toy with the idea of smothering their spouse in the night with a pillow. Still others have had vivid daydreams about a carefully placed kick to the little punk at the Verizon store who kept using the word ‘ma’am’ and explained everything in a very slow, patronizing fashion. There have also been reports of women who’ve wondered what it would feel like to tap someone with their car in order to get them to move across the lot a little faster.

If you polled all women about these seemingly disturbing thoughts during the dark hours or days of PMS, twenty-five percent would admit to having experienced something similar.

The other seventy-five percent are liars.

If you’re truly lucky, the worst of the symptoms may only last a couple of hours. But even if you have to endure two or three days of this treachery, these tips will come in handy.

Advice for the sufferers of PMS
1.  Avoid the internet, especially Facebook, YouTube, or basically any site that allows    you to comment on anything.
2.  Wine is optional. But ONLY if you strictly adhere to number one.
3.  NO HAIRCUTS. This is not a joke. Don’t do it. Just wait.
4.  Try to sleep through as much of it as you can.
5.  ATTEMPT to admit to yourself - early on - that you know exactly why you are behaving this way. I say attempt because I don’t believe it’s possible. Of course we are aware of what’s going on – the older we get, the easier it is to recognize the signs. But admitting it is a different story altogether. In our twisted brains, we don’t want there to be an excuse for our irrational behavior and thought process. We simply want to be right.

Advice for the victims of PMS
1.  Avoid, avoid, avoid. Whatever you do, do not purposely engage. Plan business trips, late nights at the office, night out with your friends; anything to keep you out of the house. But know that by doing this, there's a chance you will be interrogated as to your whereabouts. Waterboarding is not out of the question.
2.  If you are unlucky enough to work with the individual, just keep your head down. Remember that the work day is temporary, and it will soon be over.
3.  Nothing that you do will be right. Just accept that. If you remain calm, it means you don’t care. If you argue back, you are being a bully. If you go to sleep… well, there’s always that small chance you could get smothered with a pillow.
4.  DO NOT, under any circumstances, refer to her current condition. Do not suggest that perhaps she is ‘hormonal’ or ask if it’s ‘that time of the month’, or even utter the letters PMS under your breath. This will end badly.
5.  If the afflicted so much as mentions ‘Gone Girl’ during this trying time – especially if she says she relates to it in any way… RUN the F*&$ away!

Your takeaway here should be this. PMS is bad. There’s no denying it. Take it seriously. For the love of God, it ain’t no joke! But remember that it is temporary. This is not real, it’s a brief visit to the fictional land of Crazytown, and you will find your way home.  Once you’re home, you can all breathe a sigh of relief.

Until next month.

Every once in a while when I see one of those articles about some guy who simplified his life and lives in a 300 square foot house, I get a little jealous. What I wouldn’t give to have the gumption to shed all of the unnecessaries in life and only hold on to the important things.

Sometimes I believe I was truly born in the wrong time period. I know that life was harder then. But how good would it feel to go to sleep at night knowing that your body was pushed to its limit by taking care of the farm, or the ranch, instead of just being stressed out from sitting at a desk and juggling politics and general meaningless bullshit all day long? I think that would be rewarding.

And living in a smaller, simpler house – maybe an original one, where all the houses around you aren’t identical – would be so refreshing. You would utilize every inch of space in the home. There would be no junk drawers, no spare rooms, no storage space.

I know this sounds ridiculous. What would we do without internet, or television, or modern appliances? How could we possibly survive without 85 different beauty products lined up in our bathrooms? Where would we store all our stuff without canvas totes and baskets from Pottery Barn and Target? And how could we possibly be expected to clean without bathroom cleaner, toilet cleaner, window cleaner, chrome cleaner, marble counter cleaner, Endust, floor polisher, laundry detergent, laundry brightener, bleach, fabric softener and kitchen wipes? It’s barbaric!

Then there’s the clothing. Oh, where do I begin? To wear the same pair of blue jeans every single Saturday is sheer craziness. What would people think? And what if we didn’t have enough different outfits in our closets so as not repeat one in a two week period at work? People would talk. They would think we fell on hard times!

Don’t get all worked up. I’m not judging anyone. I am as guilty of consumerism as the next guy. And I have no plans in the immediate future of selling off all my possessions and disappearing into the wilderness. But sometimes I think about it. And that one room log cabin with indoor plumbing and electricity, but no wi-fi or attic space... the one with the great big stone fireplace and deep front porch… it’s calling to me. And someday I might just get there. Stranger things have happened.

This photo is a clipping from a magazine that I have had displayed on a bulletin board ever since my first job in 1988. I have no idea what magazine it came from or who is the Jennifer these folks were even cheering for. The picture is faded and if you look real close, you can laugh a bit at the eighties fashion and the big hair. It also has hundreds of pin holes in it, as I’ve transferred it to many a bulletin board over the years. It now hangs right beside my writing desk. I don’t sit and stare at it all the time, but it gives me comfort to know it’s there.

It may seem silly, but I think we all have a talisman similar to this one. It doesn’t have to be a photo, or even an actual object. Sometimes it’s a habit or a song or a ritual or a movie. Sometimes we need something to ground us back to where we came from.

For me, this picture is a reminder of a time when I was just starting to figure out who I was. I had a career that I loved, friends that I cherished, and I was just starting to feel the pride of accomplishments both individually and as a team. Now, in addition to bringing me back to my roots, if you will, it also represents a little something different. It reminds me that I am my own cheering section. And if I want to succeed, I have to be my biggest fan. That is not always (okay, rarely is it ever) easy to do, but writing is not a team sport, so if I call out sick… well, nothing gets accomplished. And that is unacceptable.

So, though there are days when I have to drag my ass to my chair, and force my fingers to the keyboard, I will get it done! Despite the many distracting icons on my desktop, or the shiny tips of pencils and Sharpies that cry out to be rearranged, I will not be derailed in my task. Whenever I start to feel defeated, I will look over at this picture, and it will remind me that I am counting on myself. And that’s all the motivation that I need.

My husband and I have this running joke that he always knows when I’ve had too much to drink as soon as I’ve uttered this sentence. And it’s true; I often do say that when I’ve partaken of extra cheer. But I am here to tell you that truer words have never been spoken.

Music IS powerful. It can change your mood from angry to happy to melancholy in two verses flat. In can inspire you. It can break your heart.

It can transport you to another time and place in just a few notes or chords. If you close your eyes, you can be sitting in your grandmother’s kitchen, listening to her soothing voice hum a sweet tune, even as she’s kicking your butt in Scrabble. Or you can go back to the eighth grade dance, your heart pounding, and your hands sweaty as you awkwardly sway on the floor with the boy you’ve been crushing on. Play a different song and you may feel the sun on your head and the wind whipping your hair in your face as you drive to the shore on the first warm spring day, in that old blue Jeep. Or maybe, just maybe, you can take a spin around your kitchen, a long time ago, with your infant son in one hand and the spoon/microphone in the other, where you can practically hear his giggles, and smell his Cheerio breath.

Music is a part of all of us; whether it’s classical, country, rap, rock n’ roll, or any other style or combination of styles. It is ever-changing, yet familiar and comfortable all the same.

Music can be embraced, or it can be feared. I have an entire playlist I never allow myself to listen to if I am sad. I have another one for those non-motivated days, designed to instantly get my ass in gear. And before the first song is over, I am already dancing. It does the trick every single time.

Music can make you feel sexy, or it can make you feel small. It can help you figure out a difficult decision or give you a brilliant idea. It can hurt, and it can heal.

So dance around the house in your underwear, sing like your life depends on it in the shower, and boogie down while you’re cleaning the dishes. But never underestimate the power of music. And whatever you do… don’t tune it out.

Okay, I know. Some people get super turned off by this one word. I get it, I really do. If used improperly, or if over-used, the F-Bomb can be off-putting. But if you’ll just hear me out, I think I can make you reconsider.

This one remarkable word can be used in endless ways. In fact, it can be a noun, a verb, an adjective; and in special situations, can even pass as an adverb. I know it’s been said before, but this word is the most versatile word known to man.

However, it must be used with the utmost caution. You can’t just randomly throw it out there and expect it to pack a powerful punch every time. Much like antibiotics become less effective the more you use them, so also does the F-Bomb become diluted. You must use it sporadically and with care. 

You can convey emotion with the F-Bomb, simply by using proper inflection. You may be awestruck, or furious, or overcome with mirth. Maybe you're frustrated, or aroused, or just really, really tired.
 
You can stretch it out into several syllables for greater effect, and you can insert inside a compound word to make it mean something entirely different. You can use it as someone’s middle name when speaking about them in a derogatory manner, and you can add prefixes and suffixes and tenses as necessary.

So you see, this word is not to be feared, nor should you cringe when you hear it or when it accidentally slips from your mouth. You should not ban movies or books that contain this word, because sometimes it just needs to be said. And in the same way that farts are always funny, and always will be, the F-Bomb in a perfectly timed release can also trigger uncontrollable laughter.

So let that F-Bomb fly! You’ll know when the time is right. And don’t let anyone f*@$ing tell you it’s wrong!

With the release of my latest novel, The Duet, I am reflecting on how bittersweet the process can be. At the risk of sounding a bit melodramatic (‘cause everyone knows how much I abhor Drama), it is no lie that these characters and this little world I’ve created have really become a part of me. In fact, sometimes I even find myself channeling them in ways that get me into trouble. Lucky for me - this time - I was able to put the brakes on before dying my hair blue or buying a pair of plaid suspenders!

Now that I have read through my final draft, there is no going back. Sure, I can always read the story from beginning to end; but I can no longer control what will happen next, what will be said or what the weather will be. This world is written and there’s no changing it.

Of course there is great joy in releasing my story out into the world. I love that I am able to share it with all of you. But on the flip side of that, after spending an entire year with these characters every single day, it makes me sad to see them go. It’s a bit like sending your five-year-old in to his first day of kindergarten or dropping him off at college; broken-hearted, yet filled with pride at the same time.

So I bid adieu to Izzy and Jay and Cooper for now, and I hope you enjoy meeting them as much as I enjoyed inventing them.