Regardless of what the post-template time-stamp displays on WordPress, I’m writing this post at 3:35a on Labor Day here in the U.S. I’m sipping a freshly brewed cup of Italian Roast (very dark, very strong) and beginning my Sunday morning ritual, albeit on a Monday.

Monday being Labor Day -a legal holiday- and as such, a Monday I don’t have to report to work, I’m doing what I usually do on Sunday mornings: Sit in bed, drink good coffee and write. It’s my Sunday routine, you might say.

For some, Sunday involves being in bed reading the San Francisco Chronicle, the New York Times or the LA Times (3 of the best newspapers in the world).  For others, it’s the morning preamble to worship and church attendance. Read the rest of this entry

Are in the sidebar on the left.

It’s really a great thing to be able to come to these pages and spill my guts no matter what I’m thinking or feeling. Since this blog doesn’t exist to make money in any form, it’s purely a place for me to write and that is pure luxury to me. Read the rest of this entry

It was the day she’d dreamed about for most of her life. She stood next to the young man she has loved for over four years.  Around her stood approximately 250 of her closest friends and family.

Among the crowd, 9 grandparents, two moms, scads of siblings, cousins and more than a couple of girlfriends/boyfriends as well as three dads (aren’t blended families wonderful).

Mike Alexander (Bethany’s Step-Dad) and I waited for her to descend the stairs, each ready to engage her arm for the 50-foot walk down the aisle. I don’t know about Mike, but I’d already teared up several times before she appeared. Once during a photo shoot with her, and, well…to be perfectly honest, each night the previous week. Read the rest of this entry

My lovely daughter, Bethany Sara.

What does it mean to be mindful? It’s the opposite of multitasking.  For me it’s staying focused, as much as possible, in the present moment.

For someone who’s lived in anticipation of the next big thing all my life, it’s a hard lesson to learn. There are times when I can’t focus on anything but what isn’t real.

• What my friends will say to me?
• What my boss will dump on me?
• How I will counter the demand for more productivity without the tools with which to accomplish it? Read the rest of this entry
  

I was all set to begin writing a post on mindfulness when I remembered a dream I has last night. In it I was offered a job as a proposal manager at a $107,000 annual salary.

In the dream one of my colleagues at work was also hanging around.  She saw me but wasn’t aware I saw her. I heard her say to her daughter, “Well, it’s over now.”

I’ll have to consult my local dream analyst to see what this may mean for me. I’m so inept at translating dreams but I do believe they contain important ideas and, perhaps, messages that we need to pay attention to.

Initial thoughts around this dream:

• I don’t think I’m appreciated at my current workplace
• There are other places that would
• My current employer isn’t the only game in town

I’m not a strong person - at least not where physical strength is concerned. Sure, I’d love to be more fit with major muscle groups like my pectorals, triceps, and quadriceps more defined.  And not just for the physical aspect of it, but for the body strength and vitality I believe would accompany it.

But this post isn’t about physical strength. It’s about something more - a deeper kind of strength - a core, psychological strength that looks over the edge of time and asks, ‘What’s next?’ Read the rest of this entry

Actually that was last night. I’ve spent the last two days in Salt Lake City on a business trip wrapping up a proposal.  My hotel was on 400 West meaning it was 4 blocks west of Temple Square.  Most city streets are named in relation to their location from Temple Square.

The more I visit, the more used to this naming system I get. It’s similar to Washington, D.C.’s alphabet-based streets crossing roads and avenues named for each of the fifty states.

This morning I’m sitting in McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas waiting for a colleague’s flight from San Jose to arrive.  From here we’ll head off for a meeting on another proposal.  I’ll fly home tonight.

Behind me there sits a family from England. The kids are talking with their Grandparents about this and that but with the cutest British accents ever. Kids speaking with accents is one travel’s rewards for me.  Drawn to children as I am anyway, these little people with accents draw me in even deeper.

It reminds me of Justin and how far away I am from him when I travel. He would love it here in Las Vegas. We’ve talked of spending a weekend here before he begins school in a few weeks. He’d love the architectural themes of the hotel and resorts.

Gotta run.

No, I’m not talking about a tiny rodent or a clandestine parakeet. It’s my Mont Blanc Meisterstuck pen. I made friends with this pen 22 years ago.  I bought it purely for status at the time and until I found an Internet resource for gel ink refills a few months ago, I’d relegated my friend to a display case.

But recently, over the past year I’d say, I’d begun using it as my sole writing instrument once again. As you’ve no doubt guessed, I’m a writer by trade and by design.  I’ve always had a fondness for quality writing instruments and use them daily for taking notes in meetings, crossing off items on my shopping list and writing in a journal.

Now for the bad news. I lost it earlier this week. And now that these pens retail for over $500, it wasn’t likely that I was going to replace it. Yes, these are expensive pens.  I believe I recall paying just around $100 for it nearly 20 years ago, but $500 is the going price for this model today. Read the rest of this entry