Times Like These..

… It’s times like these you learn to live again
It’s times like these you give and give again
It’s times like these you learn to love again
It’s times like these time and time again

Foo Fighters – Times Like These

Music brings all of us together. It does not matter the genre you listen to or who your favorite artist may be. It is the one language we can all speak – together. It is one of the few things that ties us together regardless of gender, race, or sexual preference. 

This week watching the performances from the Taylor Hawkins Tribute, I was reminded of this fact again. I laughed, cried, danced and sang along. It was heartbreaking and joyful at the same time. Then again many of the best moments of my life have those same elements. 

When I worked at the agency I would go to see multiple shows weekly, sometimes nightly. Sometimes they felt like work, most times I just felt lucky I was able to get into the show. A few years into working at the agency I was lucky enough to sit next to the agent that repped the Foo Fighters. And even luckier that he would invite me to shows. I was able to see them at arenas as well as theaters. I have two favorite memories of Taylor.  The first occurred one winter break when I could not afford to go anywhere and my family was not around. I was feeling alone and depressed. I received a text from the agent. 

“Hey, you in town?” It read. 

I thought he was going to ask me to go into the office and get something for him. I was hesitant to answer. Plus, I was feeling like a total loser being alone during the holidays and having no plans. Still.

“Yes, what’s up?” I answered. 

“Steel Pony, three hours in the valley. Your name is on the list. See you there.” He replied. 

I didn’t know what the Steel Pony was, let alone where it was located. But the agent repped some of my favorite folks – Pearl Jam, Beastie Boys, and Maxwell in addition to the Foo Fighters. So even though it was raining and I was flying solo, I headed to the Steel Pony. When I arrived the line was out of the parking lot and down and around two blocks. It was not a big club. I walked past the line and into the parking lot. I saw the agent. He was talking to the Fire Chief. He saw me. Grabbed my arm and pushed me inside while listening to the fireman tell them they were at capacity. 

The place was packed. I had been pushed through a side door directly next to the stage. I had been pushed into someone when I came through the door. It was Taylor Hawkins. He smiled. I apologized. He tipped his glass and walked on to the stage. It was then I saw Dave Grohl and realized I was at a Foo Fighters show. For three hours they played a bit of everything. I danced, laughed, and sweat the night away. I no longer felt depressed or alone. I was with my music family and we were all rejoicing. It is still one of my favorite memories. 

The second occurred a few years later. I was invited to a friends and family show at the Forum. I didn’t feel like going. I was tired. I had been traveling. I was feeling burned out. I will be honest and tell you I don’t even remember who I was seeing. But I remember thinking, someone else would be so excited about this show. Go, you never know what can happen.  I arrived at the forum. Checked in, grabbed a drink and headed to my seat. In front of me were a bunch of guys that were having the time of their lives. I was sitting with other agents and we were all on our phones not paying attention to anything but work. But I remember thinking I wish I was part of the group in front of us. It was then I recognized Taylor Hawkins in that row. I remember watching him and his friends more than the show because they were so into it. They were having the best time. Here was a guy who had toured all over the world and tonight he was just a fan like everyone else in the place. It reminded me of the power of music.  

Working in the music business can be tough. You can be surrounded by the darkest parts of humanity, but you are also surrounded by such unimaginable light. Every time I have thought of doing something else, someone sends me a song. Sometimes the song is by artists I know. Many times it is by someone I have never heard of before. The one thing they have in common is that they always remind me why I love this business. They lift my mood and my spirit like nothing else does.

If you are having a bad day, put on that album that brings back that memory. I have sat on a couch and listened to an entire album and ended up in conversations with total strangers about the music. I have woken up crying, put on an album and had a private dance party. I have sat in a parked car staring at nothing listening to a voice note that an artist has sent me. The one thing that all of these moments have in common is the music. I hope that today you take a moment and listen to your sound, whatever flavor that may be. I hope that it brings a smile to your face and makes your soul soar. We all need that now more than ever. 

***Side note: I have seen some of the negative comments about the benefit. I haven’t read much of them because the second I see that they are criticizing such an amazing moment, I want to throw something. We have become a society that can find fault in everything, including an event that brought generations and genres  together to celebrate a life that touched so many. It is heartbreaking. So I refuse. I refuse to fall into the trap about what was wrong with the show and rejoice in what was so right about it. I hope you are dancing and laughing above Taylor, because you made all of us remember what was right in this world. 

Life Lessons from Grams

April 18 was the Yahrzeit of my grandmother. For you non-Jews, April 18 is the anniversary of my grandmother’s death.. She was 93 when she passed. I miss her every day.  I know I am lucky that I had her in my life for as long as I did. But it does not stop the tears from flowing or the ache in my heart.

She was one of the most amazing women I have ever met. She did the New York Times Crossword daily, worked  out on a regular basis and had an active social life. I loved chatting with her about her life. Not only did I learn something new about her but I almost always got a good life lesson. The following is one of those amazing conversations. If you know me personally, you may have already heard this one. 

One day I decided to ask her about how she got engaged. I knew the story of how my grandparents had met in Minneapolis at a party right after my grandfather had left the airforce.  They told the same story. 

My grandfather had seen my grandmother from across the room, walked immediately up to her and said, “You look tired, you should go home.” 

Yep, you read that right. He insulted her and he married her soon after. I have always wondered how they went from that exchange to getting engaged. The story my Grandmother told me not only gave me a massive laugh but came with three life lessons that I am still trying to live by.

“Well, I was dating this fella,” my grandmother started the story.

“Not grandpa?” I asked.

“No, not grandpa. Anyway, I was dating this fella and no one liked him. So my family sent me to my Aunt and Uncle in Upstate New York where I met another fella and I got engaged.”

“Not grandpa?” I asked again. This is the first time I have heard about any other fella, let alone two or another engagement. 

“NO, NOT GRANDPA! Keep up with me Mara, you asked for this story. Anyway, I came back to Minneapolis to pack up myself and get ready to move to New York and get married. And while I was home, you know I went to that party and met your grandfather,” she responds.

“So then you broke up with the guy from New York,” I said.

“No, I went out on my first date with your grandfather,” she said. I think my jaw dropped. This was the Forties. I had always assumed folks were more conservative back in the day. 

“Were you wearing a ring?” I ask, still trying to understand.

“Yes,” she responded. As I sat dumbfounded by the fact that my grandmother was a bit of a floozy and obviously a badass even when she was young. She continued her story. 

“On our first date, your grandfather laid it out for me. He told me all about what he was going to do for a living, he showed me where he wanted to live. He told me how many children he wanted. When and where he wanted to retire,” she stated.

“Wow. Wasn’t that a bit heavy for a first date?” I ask. Although I was still having an issue wrapping my head around her dating my grandfather while promised to someone else, I was also surprised my grandfather said so much and on a FIRST date.

“Yes, it was but here is the problem with your generation,” she responded. 

And right about now she starts spouting her worldly wisdom. 

“You all don’t see potential. You think about right now. You need to be thinking about the future and where you want to be,” she said.

Now, you may think this is strange that she would say this during a story about her engagement. But this is NOT the first time she has shared this bit of wisdom. She had said this to me about dating on numerous occasions. She was not wrong. Think about the guys you “LIKED” in high school. Would you date them now? Nope, me neither. 

“Ok, so THEN you broke up with the fella from New York and started dating grandpa?” I asked.

“No, then I went out with your grandfather for a couple of weeks. And when the fella from New York came to pick me up, I told your grandfather to skedaddle,” she replied.

And for the second time during this story, she blew my mind. My grandfather was a fighter pilot, a real estate developer and the first entrepreneur I had ever met. He was also one of the most intimidating men ever created. The kind you never ever want to upset. He was the definition of an alpha male. I just didn’t see him skedaddling for anyone. Apparently, for her he skedaddled.

“Well, after the fella was here for a few days I realized I liked your grandfather more so I told him to skedaddle and I called your grandfather,” she continued.

“Ok, so then you dated for like a year? And then got engaged?” I asked.

“No. You sound like your grandfather now. That is what he said. That we would date for a year. Then get engaged. Then married. And I told him, we would be married in the next 6 months or I would find myself another fella,” she stated.

“Grams, you were not even 19 years old, why were you in such an all-fire hurry to get married?” I asked.

And here is the second piece of wisdom. Get ready for it.

“Well, I’ll tell you. By that time, I had tried working. Realized it wasn’t for me. And made alternative plans,” she replied. 

Yep, she had tried working and realized it wasn’t for her. It might be one of my favorite things I have ever heard anyone say. And really, wouldn’t we all like to make that statement?

I did ask what she had done for living that made her feel that way. She had worked for the phone company. She would have told you they were the best employers. And she had worked for Dayton Hudson, a retailer in Minneapolis. She had said they were very good as well. She just realized that it was not for her. She did not want to work for anyone else.

That’s not to say my grandmother did not work. She raised a family. Three successful kids and had a marriage that lasted almost 50 years and only ended with my grandfather’s death. All of that takes work.

After she finished telling me this story I asked her if she ever wanted to get married again after my grandfather’s death. He died a little over 20 years ago. She was emphatic in her answer as she was about most things in her life.

“No! Why would I? I was raised in a house of five women. We never needed a man, even if others thought we did. I loved your grandfather but I am just fine without another man. And I already took care of one sick man, at this age that would be what I am dealing with,” she answered. 

Can’t say that I blame her logic. I didn’t like the idea that she was alone. Then again she rarely was with all the family and friends who were around her. And she always seemed happy which is more than most folks can ask.

And per usual talking to my grandmother taught me three life lessons:

1.     Potential. Look for the possibilities, not just what is in front of you.

2.     If it’s not for you, DON’T DO IT! Find what is for you and then go for it.

3.     Stick to what makes you happy, not what others think you should do.

One last thing, as I get older I realize how absolutely blessed I was to have had my grandmother as long as I did. That I was able to ask the questions and receive answers. We spend so much time these days finding our answers through Google, Wikipedia and our phones that we forget to connect to the people around us. To the people we know and love. So I guess there is one last lesson – turn off the tech and turn to the person next to you. I guarantee you won’t be disappointed. 


Change is hard. Actually now that I think about it  – FEAR is harder. Fear of Change. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the known. Fear of abandonment. Fear is debilitating for me. Fear makes me spin out of control and stops me in my tracks all at the same time. 

I have wanted to move out of my apartment for over 5 years. And yet, I have not moved. What is stopping me? Fear. I fear rejection. I fear there is nothing I can afford that I will like. I fear that I won’t get the house. I fear that I will pick the wrong neighborhood. I fear that I will pick the wrong building. I fear that I will get it and not be able to afford it. In the end that fear has kept me in an apartment I do not like and have outgrown.

I need a new car. Everyone has said now is not the time to buy. I should have bought during the pandemic. But the fear of not having a job stopped me. The fear of not being approved for the loan stopped me. The fear of choosing the wrong make, wrong car, wrong seller. In the end that fear has kept me using Uber and Lyft and watching my savings dwindle.

I don’t love my job. I am so thankful for it. It pays well. I work remotely. There are so many things to love about it. Unfortunately, I don’t like the actual job or my boss as a boss. But I fear losing it through something I did. Or something I did not do. I fear the company not being able to afford me. I fear being rejected. I fear being told I am too old, too fat, or too experienced to get the position I want. I fear not being able to find a job that pays me what I am already making and more.  In the end, I may stay too long at my current job and then be forced out instead of choosing to leave. This has happened before.

I want a community. My biggest fear is being alone. This is a fear that I find stranger than most as I didn’t have it until I became an adult. When I was a kid it was my monther’s biggest fear. So much so that she stayed in relationships that never should have started and she married men that she was not happy to be with.

As a kid I could not understand her fear of being alone. I wanted to have my own house. To live alone. To not have anyone care if I ate after 8 pm or slept until noon. As an adult, I wish there was someone who cared. Someone who wanted to know that I made it home ok. That I am eating correctly. Someone to talk to about the bad and the good days. Someone to celebrate and someone to grieve with me. Someone to encourage, challenge and love me. I fear that I will never find that someone and yet, am I really looking? 

I fear that fear is going to stop me from living the life I crave and deserve. It already has. The question now is, how do I stop fear?

Roller Coasters

It was my grandmother’s birthday on Monday. She died in April. It feels weird to “celebrate” her life when she is no longer alive. It feels stranger to not acknowledge it at all. I spent some of the day crying and some of the day laughing thinking about her. A friend asked what was the one thing I wished I could have that I didn’t have on her birthday besides her. I said, I wished I could send her flowers again this year. Last year she kept forgetting that she had already thanked me and called me three times. I want that back. I thought about posting the story of her engagement. It is my favorite story of the many she told me. But it needs to be edited and it was too painful for me to do on Monday. 

Wednesday I had a great business meeting. It gave me a huge high. It made me feel like she was watching from above and cheering me on. I felt like I could rule the world. I was ready to take on any new challenges. I felt her spirit and love of life surrounding me. 

Thursday I couldn’t get out of bed. I couldn’t sleep until it was time to get up. I didn’t feel like getting dressed. I forced myself to make a cup of coffee. To make a list for what I wanted to get done. Then a list for what I needed to get done. I worked on creating connections. I did another business call that went ok. I cried. I didn’t laugh. 

Friday is my birthday. I have plans for dinner with my sister but I haven’t really talked about it with anyone else. A couple of friends have asked, I’ve responded but not with any real enthusiasm. I love other people’s birthdays. I think it is a day that everyone should be celebrated. I plan things for many of them. And yet on mine, I feel sort of blasé. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about the celebration of life. Not surprising with so much death in my life this year. Not surprising with my birthday coming up. I have come to the following conclusion. 

Life is like roller coasters. Big climbs. Jerks around many corners. And scary drops. But if your smart, you raise your hands in the air and scream and laugh through them all because it’s the best damn ride in the park. 

Call Squiggy…

DISCLAIMER: Let me just handle this now before we start this story. Yes, the below is a true story. Yes, it happened. No, I am not going to tell you the name of the band, unless you know me and I am comfortable enough to drink with you. And last, yes, I have stranger stories. Ok, with that out of the way….

In my early twenties I worked as a production assistant for live shows. The days were long but they always ended with live music or comedy. For me that made all the menial tasks worth it. Normally I ran around in a fifteen passenger van doing errands for the promoter, the band or a combination.  I was good at what I did. I was also liked. I could read a room. No when to talk and when to keep quiet. It was a few years in when I received a call from a promoter asking me not to run errands but instead to be a conduit between the band and the promoter. I was to run the other runners or PAs. 

I would be in a room with the promoter, take phone calls from the tour manager and get the band things after getting approval. There had apparently been friction between the promoter and the band but they were stuck with each other for the next 18 months. This happens a lot. This was however the first time I had been asked to straddle the line between the two. 

I would wait for the phone to ring and receive the band’s request. Most of the time I would get asked for something simple like five reams of paper. I would ask the promoter sitting behind me if it was approved and then send a “runner” out to get it. When the runner returned, I would bring the item to the band or tour manager.

For the most part I was asked for things that were necessary and easy. And by the second hour the promoter told me to use my discretion and just come to him if there was something I wasn’t comfortable approving.

The tour assistant was a lovely, soft spoken woman. She would call and say, “Hi Mara, this is Flo, we need….” And I would say it out loud in my little room and everyone would hear me. I would write the item down on the pad next to me as well as where I thought my “runner” should go to get it. I would tell Flo how long it would be or she would tell me when she needed the item. All worked well for about three hours and then THE call came.

“Hi Mara, this is Flo, we have a birthday for one of the back-up dancers today and we are going to need a few things.”

This is common when bands are on the road. They become a family and they find things to do as a family such as celebrating birthdays, playing softball, visiting the zoo, having a family dinner. You get the picture. 

“We would like everything by 2:30. Can we get a phallic cake, preferably black with white candles? Although candle color is not super important. As well as plates and napkins,” said Flo.

“One black phallic cake with white candles, no problem,” I reply.

Then write it down on my pad as well as the place I have purchased them in the past. You read that correctly. Where I have purchased them in the past. It really was not that unusual to be asked for phallic or breast cake. I knew the bakery that would have them in stock. Don’t be judgmental, you don’t have any privacy on a tour. You need a sense of humor. Most of the time a juvenile one.

“Great, thanks Mara. We also have a tradition for the dancers that we change up a little for each one. Today we are going to need 4 midget strippers, preferably female. Again if they could be here by 2:30.

“Four female strippers, wait did you say MIDGETS?” 

The room behind me, filled with men talking, instantly goes silent.  Everyone is staring at me. Nothing will stop a conversation quicker than strippers or midgets. It was like a bomb went off. If I wasn’t slightly anxious, I would have burst out laughing. As it was the only thing going through my mind was where was I going to find strippers that were midgets? And was that the politically correct term? Could you even ask for them?

“Yes, midgets, preferably female as it is a male dancer and by 2:30, please. Do you need anything else from me?” Flo asks.

Hmmm, now I get some strange requests. Have even been asked for strippers and ladies of the evening but this is a first. Midget Strippers. I am not even sure where to start, let alone in under 3 hours. Still, it is the job. 

“Nope, we are good. Let me see what I can do,” I respond.

The first call I make is to the nicest strip club in town. The one that not only do you know that your boyfriends have been to but that you may have actually gone with them or with a group of your girlfriends.

“Hi, is the manager in? I am working a concert over at the arena and we are looking for some entertainment.” I was still shaky on the whole midget strippers term and I didn’t want to offend anyone. This was my first call. By the time I was on my third I was more direct.

“Hi, I am looking to hire four midget strippers and I need them in 2 hours, do you have any?”

All that was going through my head at this point was that I have a college degree. Not one of my classes had prepared me for this job. Were there classes that would?

After my seventh call, I was feeling desperate. What if Minnesota didn’t have midget strippers? What would be the alternative to offer? I am a deep believer that even if you can’t get exactly what someone needs you can come close. I am not sure what to offer as an alternative or what would be considered coming close! But on the tenth call I finally received a promising lead.

“You have to call Squiggy, he handles all the specialty dancers.” 

See, I knew there was a better term.

So I call Squiggy, and I tell him what I need and that I now need it in an hour. He tells me it is not a problem; he only has one question. Wait for it.

“Do you want them with or without animals?” he asks.

My mind just blanked.  Animals? Is this a legit question? Do I call Flo? Ask the promoter? Can we bring animals into the arena? I’ve seen dogs. I guess we could. 

I make an executive decision, no animals.  Whenever I tell this story to friends or family everyone asks the one question I did not. WHAT TYPE OF ANIMALS? 

At 2:30, four very pretty, very short ladies show up with two very big bodyguards. I walk them down to the dressing room where we have decorated, set out the phallic cake (yes, we got a black one) and depart. I don’t want to stay. I don’t need to have my education enhanced.  I am almost back to my little room when over the radio sounds. 

“Mara, this is Flo, our guests need something to play their music on.” 

I almost fell over. The tour I was working on had 55 tour trucks, normal tours have 5! It had a truck that just carried Segways. No one had a portable speaker? And the ladies could come with animals but no way to play their music?

Luckily, I had one in my office. Always good to be prepared.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, this is not the strangest job story I have to tell you. On the other hand, this story is a perfect example of two great lessons learned. One, no matter the task, there is always a solution. And two, be prepared to make a lot of calls. 

Oh, and if you need a specialty dancer in Minnesota call Squiggy!

To Curse or Not to Curse

It’s ninety degrees outside and humid. Things are not going according to plan. I was supposed to leave at 9 am. I left at 10:15. I was supposed to be on a train by 11 am. Then by 12:15 pm. I left LA at 1:10 pm. All of the little things that went wrong are too trivial to even write down. If ever there was a time to curse a blue streak, this was it.

I never used to swear. Never understood the need for it. Then I moved to Los Angeles, got a job at a talent agency and realized it was essential. It was a release. I also realized that apart from my friends at the agency no one else shared this view. 

Last, I realized I now couldn’t have a full conversation without swearing. This realization came when I bought a roll of quarters and put a quarter in the jar every time I cursed. When I ran out of quarters in less than 30 minutes, I knew I had an issue. 

I also knew I needed to change. I began asking everyone I knew what word they use instead of cussing. Below are my 10 favorite:

  • What the H or WTF? – Why do we feel that by using initials we aren’t swearing?
  • Frick – I don’t know why but I use all the time. 
  • Judas Priest – this was a term an old high school football coach used. Whenever I use it makes me feel 15 again.
  • Mother Trucker – I know, it is close to the line but that’s what makes it so satisfying.
  • Fudge – yep, been using that one since The Tales of 4th Grade Nothing…..
  • Gosh Dang – I know, sounds a little bit like Mayberry but it works
  • Holy Moses – I love this, is it religious or sacrilegious? Either way, it works for me. 
  • “I cuss in another language” – I had friends who said they never cuss in English, so it doesn’t count. Ummmm, I think someone understands it.
  • Darn it – I never understood this one because I thought darning was fixing.
  • BALLS – which basically sums everything up! 

Have one I am missing? Want to add to the list? Or have a list you want to explore. Hit the button below and leave a comment or send to me to add later..

Alarm Clocks…

The alarm sounds. It’s 6:30 am. I don’t want to get out of bed. I hit snooze.

The alarm sounds. It’s 7 am. I need to go to the restroom. I head back to bed after and set the timer for 1 hour.

The alarm sounds. It’s 8 am. I should go to the gym. I check my email, texts and social media. I set the timer for 45 minutes.

The alarm sounds. It’s 9:30 am. I get up. I make my bed. I wash my face. I brush my teeth. I make a cup of coffee. I should go to the gym. I set the timer for 45 minutes. I watch the news.

The alarm sounds. It’s 11 am. I must have hit repeat by accident. I am starving. I am going to make lunch and then go to the gym. I set the alarm for 1 pm.

The alarm sounds. It’s 1 pm. I remember that that means everyone who works in an office will be at the gym. I will go at 3 pm. I set the alarm.

The alarm sounds. It’s 3:15 pm. It’s so hot outside I don’t want to walk any where. I will go right after dinner. I go back to work.

I have just made dinner and feel like there is something I said I was going to do. Oh that’s right, the gym. It’s 6:30, I will go at 8. I set the timer for 90 minutes.

The alarm sounds. It’s 8 pm. I just want to finish this episode and I will go to the gym. I set the timer for 30 minutes.

The alarm sounds. It’s 8:30 pm. It’s dark outside. I want to be able to sleep tonight. Maybe I should just wait and go first thing tomorrow morning. I set the alarm 6:30 am.

The alarm sounds….


Flew home to Los Angeles this week. The airports are definitely back. Flight was packed. I think we are all antsy and want to travel. Chose to sit in first class because I am still a germaphobe and want my own space. Noticed a guy in the gate area before we boarded that seemed to know everyone. He spoke to strangers and friends in the same manner. By the time we made it on the flight I knew I would be sitting next to him. It is just how my life works.

Sure enough, he sat down next to me. Within 2 hours I had made a new bff. He is a defense attorney in Seattle mostly working with DUI cases. He talked me into ordering doubles. I have been looking to find an estate attorney and haven’t had any luck. He was able to give me a recommendation. I am still surprised by how often random encounters bring me what I have been asking for from the universe.

It’s funny how sometimes it is easier to talk to a stranger as opposed to someone you know well. I didn’t feel any need to impress him, to coddle him or to be anything but me. We talked about music, cooking and family and friends. It was lovely. By the end of the flight we had exchanged information. And three other folks had introduced themselves to me and given me their information.

Have you ever noticed that the more you are enjoying yourself, the more other people want to join? This happens to me on a regular basis. I am at a party, a restaurant or plane having a great conversation and the next thing you know someone else leans in. I love when that happens. It doesn’t happen now as often as it did before our electronics were so portable. People are much more in their own world now but I highly recommend having that conversation with a person instead of your computer, phone or tablet. You never know who you are going to meet. Plus after this past year aren’t we all in need of a bit more human contact.

*Foot Note: We discussed the New York Times cooking app, if you have not seen it I highly recommend. Recipes were easy and amazing.

Raindrops on Roses..

I think Sunday mornings may be my favorite time of the week. Most people assume it is because I love church. Or that I don’t go out on Saturdays. Neither are true. I loved Sunday mornings as a kid because those are the days that my family had breakfast together. We would make a huge breakfast and no one was ever in a rush. It was the calmest meal of the week. Normally filled with lots of laughter. 

As an adult, Sunday mornings mean brunches and farmer’s markets. Both of which are quite possibly my favorite things. Farmer’s markets are just about the same everywhere. They are always full of new discoveries. I have found some of my favorite jewelry. Been talked into trying new vegetables and fruits. I always leave feeling revigorated. 

I hate Sunday nights though. Like most of us, I dread the end of my weekend. It is the reason I have changed my Sunday nights into Self-Care nights. I make no plans to go out or see anyone. I take a bath in my favorite bath salt. I have a facial with my favorite products. I deep condition my hair with my favorite conditioner. I read a book for fun not for work. It is relaxing. It is about me. It makes the end of the weekend a bit more enjoyable. It is one of my favorite things, even though I don’t love Sunday nights. 

But I love Monday mornings. The start of the week is where everything is still perfect. It is when I can still believe in endless possibilities. It’s when I make my plans and believe I can get them done. It is the only time of the week that I am guaranteed to feel six feet tall and unstoppable.  I used to always tell my assistants the same thing –  tomorrow is a brand-new day. Let today go. But Monday mornings are a fresh start. A fresh week. And that is why Monday mornings may actually be my a favorite. Then again, Tuesday are pretty cool…

Say Yes….

A few years ago while in Amsterdam for work a friend had arranged a bike tour for a group of us to go on. I had not been on a bike in years. I actually could not remember the last time I had been on a bike. I wanted to decline. I was the only female in the group and the rest were very athletic. I am not. 

I had several excuses in mind. 

Excuse number one – “Make it a boys bonding experience. I am totally fine sitting this one out.”

Excuse number two – “I have too much work to do. It will be so much better for me if you guys let me stay at the hotel to work.”

Excuse number three – “I don’t want to hold you back.”

I had more but those are the top three. Then I remembered something I had promised myself the previous New Year. Not a resolution. I don’t believe in resolutions but more an intention. The way I wanted to start living my life. That previous New Year I had realized that I was saying No to almost everything. No, I don’t want to go to the club. No, I don’t want to go for a hike. No, I don’t want to go shopping. No, I don’t want to go the party. I was saying NO to LIFE. 

I had reasons, ok –  excuses. I was tired. I was beat up. I wasn’t feeling good about the way I looked. The way my career was going. Or the lack of my personal relationships. I was saying NO to ME. As this realization hit, I made a goal that this was the year I was going to say YES.

Yes, to doing things that scare me. Yes, to trying new things. Yes, to trying things I had done before and liked or even disliked. I was just going to say yes when someone asked. So I said Yes, to the bike ride. I said yes to trying to keep up with guys that ran daily, had competed at the collegiate level in sports and one that had even won the Amazing Race.

You would think that I was excited and proud of myself. I was not. I was scared. Petrified actually. Worried that I would embarrass myself, embarrass them, or worse get hurt. It took everything in me to get dressed that day. To meet in the lobby. To walk to the bike shop. To find out that we were going on a bike tour that would last several hours and several miles. It took everything in me not to leave once they handed me a bike.

I was shaky getting on the bike. We were biking on city streets. We were biking in a line. I was scared I would be too slow. I would fall over. I wouldn’t last the full tour. How would I get back if something happened?

Then something changed. We started onto a bike path through the park. It was beautiful. I started to remember how much I loved the feel of the wind on my face and in my hair. I started to remember how much I had loved biking as a child. I started to remember how I had learned to bike. I remembered the people who taught me and the love I had for them. I remembered how much you see when you are on the back of a bike. I remembered how much I love trees, the sound of birds chirping and the smells of the air around you. 

I forgot about the worry of keeping up with others. I forgot about worrying if I was the worst biker or not. I forgot about caring what I looked like on the bike. I forgot about the fact that I was scared. I forgot about being anxious. I forgot about the traffic. I forgot about getting hurt. I forgot about everyone around me and just lived in the moment. 

And then it started to rain. I know what you are thinking – that I gave up.  It was a perfect and legitimate excuse. Instead, I put the poncho on that the guide gave us and kept pedaling. We pedaled through parks and puddles. We pedaled over bridges and by water. There weren’t a lot of other bikers because of the rain, which was fine by me. We stopped at windmills, strange houses and amazing architecture. It was fun. It was glorious. It was a feeling of peace.

It was then that it happened. Isn’t it always? 

We were crossing a busy intersection. We were in a line. I hesitated so I wouldn’t hit the guy in front of me. I never saw it coming. The Moped that slammed into me. I went down. He went down. I remember the yelling in another language. I remember the police showing up. I remember being mortified. I remember being so embarrassed and scared. I was in a foreign country. I had just caused an accident. I was asked about the accident. Given something to sign in another language. The other person and the accident and I spoke. Realized it was an accident. We gave each other a hug. And then we were sent on our way. 

I now had the perfect reason to get a cab and not ride that bike any more. But you know what else I remembered? 

I remembered that in life we only really have two choices; yes or no. I remembered that I could give up, say no and go home. Or I could say yes, get back on the bike and pedal the mile or so back to the shop. I remembered that it is not how many times you fall down (or are nailed by a Moped) but how many times you get back up! 

I got back on that bike. Put one foot in front of the other and pedaled. I did not think. I remembered. I remembered to hold my head up high. I remembered being thrown from a horse and being told to get back on. I remembered that it was ok to fall. I remembered to feel the wind in my hair. I remembered to get back to the joy of living. 

I remembered ME.

That last mile was hard. I was shaking so badly I am surprised the bike stayed upright. When I got back to the hotel I did not feel accomplished. I felt cold. I felt achy. I felt scared. I felt disappointed. It took me a while to see it more clearly. To have perspective.

Today I look back on that ride, that adventure, that accident, as one of the best memories of  my life. It taught me that it is ok to get knocked down. I will always get back up. I will always try again. It was and is still the best lesson to learn. 

This year I plan on not only saying yes but on looking for more challenges, more adventures and more ways to remember the person I want to be. Because in life, it is not about the storms, it’s about learning to dance in the rain!

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