don't let the door hit you in the ass...

It's that night. New Year's Eve.

Turn the calendar page. Start fresh. Opportunity awaits.

Even though it's largely symbolic, it's a great time to say, "So long, sucker!" to 2008.

I am not sad to see this year, the worst on record for me, get the hell out of dodge.

Passing into a new year is a great time to re-evaluate and stay focused on better times ahead: emotionally, physically and financially.

There are no guarantees. Never are. But I do think by writing down concepts now and being able to review and adjust throughout the year is a great way to stay on track.

So I am just going to make a promise to myself to keep healing. To keep trying to do better and be a better person. A better mom, a better friend. A better Christian.

I will improve my health and make all that entails a priority.

I will read more, write more and listen more.

I will take more risks, be more open-minded to new experiences and try not to look backwards quite so often.

I will enjoy the gift of life to the fullest extent possible.

No guarantees. But the quickest route to failing is to never even try.

Happy, amazing and wonderful 2009. I am glad to have you along for the ride.

being alone vs. being lonely.

I've decided I am not so good at being alone.

The girls are with their dad this week and I went into panic mode on Sunday, home from work with absolutely nothing that had to be done. Quite honestly, I didn't know what to do with myself.

I ended up falling asleep reading a book on the couch at about 7:45 PM. Then, I woke up at around 1AM to get myself into bed, and had the "toilet episode." A broken toilet, overflowing buckets of toilet water. It was awful. But at least it was something.

My friend Bob fixed it up for me the next day, as soon as I called and yelled "help" into his cellphone. You cannot put a price on a friend who also happens to be a plumber.

It's all better now, and I have officially settled into this weird, post-holiday hangover-funk that I can't seem to shake.

It's a weird time of the year for me, and I am seriously wondering if it ever won't be.

I'm from a big family, went to a giant high school and even bigger college. The only time I lived on my own was very, very briefly after college. Other than that, there's always been roommates, and then kids.

I know everyone will tell me, "Enjoy the quiet!" And sure enough the kids will be back driving me crazy before I know it.

But for now, this post-holiday stress disorder kinda sucks.

I am going to have to work at getting comfortable in my own skin, after a lifetime of never having been.

I guess it's about time.

the meaning of Christmas.

Sometimes it takes a few hours or days to put things into a meaningful perspective. Like the holidays.

How was your Christmas?

I was asked that by many over the past 48 hours or so. I don't know exactly how to answer it. Truthfully? It was happy, sad, ironic, disturbing, fun, lousy and wonderful.

Now, I know I should pick out the good adjectives and toss the rest aside, but we're being honest, right?

The meaning of Christmas for me this year comes at a time where I am beginning to understand the life of Jesus and my place in His story. From that angle, it is a wonderful, amazing and interesting journey.

Being a mom, I treasure the panda bear dangly earrings given to me by my youngest, and the light-up mom key chain from my oldest.

As a sister/daughter/aunt/ex-wife, the time spent with the family was joyous but not without issue. God gives you this family, and maybe it's to test you. Or maybe it's just a really funny joke. I haven't, however, found the punchline yet.

As a friend, I am blessed a thousand times over. The gifts from you are emotional, spiritual and tangible.

The best moment of my Christmas came from sleepy Jess, who was curled up in bed with Bitty baby snuggled under one arm. "You're such a good mom to Bitty," I told her, just as her eyes opened enough so that I could tell she was awake.

"You're such a good mom to me, " she said.

And that was the very best gift, ever.

traditions.

It's hard getting through the holidays for most. Of course there's all the cool stuff you get to experience; the girl's excitement topping the list. But let's face it, even the most calm, rational beings can have issues this time of year.

It's important for me to have a common base in my house for Christmas. Especially when so much has happened this year. It's nice to rely on our traditions to keep us grounded in what's really important.

We got a great tree this year. It was $14.95 at Home Depot, and it's a beauty. Taking out ornaments are like visiting with old friends. Most have memories attached. During the separation last Christmas, it was hard to face some of those ornaments. This year, with those safely packed away, decorating was much simpler.

My family comes over tomorrow night. I've been a willing host for about eight years, despite my older sister's best efforts to swipe away the honor. I cling to this event because I truly enjoy it, and it's all the girls have ever known.

I've ordered the pierogi, washed Gram's familiar green Christmas Eve dishes and pulled out the 12 Days of Christmas plates. A tradition of a group sing-a-long started quite by accident those eight years ago, and we do it every year. You pick a plate and that's your verse to sing. It's a hilarious five or so minutes, with really awful singing and a lot of laughs.

Tonight, the girls and I attended Christmas service at Parkview. It was beautiful: a candlelight ceremony, Christmas songs and the lesson of the Christmas story. We celebrate the birth of Christ Jesus simply because He was born to take our sin to the cross, so that we might one day live with him in his Kingdom.

Believe and accept that and you're in. That's definitely a reason to celebrate. And attending the candlelight service is a new tradition begun.

Traditions give continuity to life.

Like thread in a quilt, they run all the way through and hold even the most challenging pieces together.

introducing dr. kickass.

I went to a new therapist today. I've had two therapists in the past 10 years, both women. One moved to New Jersey, and the other I just can't get time to see anymore because of my crazy schedule and her limited availability.

I still think I need to see a therapist, and generally I feel that's a pretty good indication that I should.

I asked for a recommendation from a psychiatrist whose acquaintance I made three years ago, when I was diagnosed with major depression. (I like the major part because it sounds more impressive, though I am not sure if there is actually another kind.)

Anyway, so he gives me the name of one of the therapists in his practice, and today was my first visit.

Now, I love this particular psychiatrist. He's nice, funny and he's been instrumental in helping me with my mental health issues. I want to be fair, so I will say that when he was telling me about this particular therapist, he did say he was probably unlike previous therapists I have encountered.

"If you're looking to sit and chat, well that's not his style," he said. I told him, "Well, if you are recommending him, I was perfectly willing to go with that."

So this morning, I sit down on the small black leather sofa in his office, and ask the therapist (dr. KA) if he wanted my previous doctor's number so he could get caught up on the work I've done, and find out where I'm coming from.

He shakes his head no, and tells me, "Today is today, it's not yesterday."

And, he's not particularly interested in where I've been. He is however, interested in where I'm going.

We're going to talk about the here and now, he told me. Quite honestly. I am here on Wednesdays and Fridays and when I leave, I go home and live my life. This (job) is a very small part of my life, and I don't have time to be calling people to find out what you've been doing the past 10 years.

And that was the first five minutes.

Dr. KA called me out for 55 more minutes. Wanted to know what I wanted out of life, and what exactly I was doing to get there. I'm about empowering, he said. Not about taking money from me for the next 10 years.

I found out pretty quickly he is all about accountability. I was both terrified and fascinated by the questions he fired at me, one after another:

"Why are you here?"
"You say you want to be happy. That's a wonderful goal. Now what exactly does that mean?"
"What are you doing to get there?"
"Do you understand what I just said?"
"Do you know that you will always get the same results if you do what you've always done?"

I found out I'm a "piler." No big surprise there, even though he was talking about emotional piling as much as the actual physical piling that occurs in my house.

And the only way to stop "piling" is to dig out from under all the crap and deal with it, he said.

"You've got so many piles, you don't even know what you've got," he told me at one point.

I walked out of the office with another appointment in a couple weeks.

I'm scared to death.

But in a good way.

joe & deb.

Tonight, I went out with some truly awesome people. My friends from Divorce Care. They are new-ish when it come to friendship, but in some aspects I feel like I've known them forever.

They make me laugh harder than I have in along time. We make jokes, pick on each other and share observations and advice. Most of all, we enjoy each other's company.

Our regular weekly meetings ended two weeks ago. I miss the camaraderie and support I had grown to count on.

When you bare your souls on a weekly basis, you learn a lot about yourself and others. As a group, I like to think we emerged stronger and more hopeful about the future.

Tonight, we got to hear the love story of Joe & Deb. Deb is the DC group leader; Joe is her husband. The pair are celebrating their first wedding anniversary this week.

When Joe joined DC, he was the only guy in a group of 24. After the session ran its course, Joe and Deb ran into each other, and then made plans with others to go out as a group. Eventually, Joe would ask Deb out, and Deb would show up with her girlfriend until she figured out that Joe just wanted to actually "date." The girlfriend stopped coming along, and Joe & Deb fell in love and got married; the second time for both of them.

If only it were that simple.

As Deb told their story tonight, I learned a couple of important things.

First, you never know what will happen.

And, before Joe & Deb got married, they talked. A lot. About everything. And I do mean everything. It was important to both of them to lay it all out on the table.

Then, something Joe said, that Deb swore she'd never forget:

"You know, there are no guarantees."

At best, Joe explained, when you get married, you have a 50 percent chance of making it work.

This wasn't based on divorce statistics or a study, it was just Joe's own keen observation. You can invest yourself in a marriage 100 percent, he said. But you are only one person in a relationship where you are responsible for 50 percent of its success or failure.

Wow, not good odds, we all thought. But absolutely true.

The second time around has the benefit of past experience to learn from. I hope that isn't lost on my friends as they move ahead into new lives filled with new experiences.

But more than that, I hope everyone was listening tonight as Joe & Deb took their turn sharing.

the nice list.

Thank you, Jack Higgins.

Dear Santa,

Please bring something wonderful for all these amazing girls and boys. They have been very, very good this year:

Becky Jess Chrissy&Doug Nagelhout Patti&Ed Smith Nickey&Carlos Mendez Jason Nagelhout Kelcie Nagelhout Kailey Smith Keegan Smith Yoo-Hoo Emma Mendez Sophia Mendez Charlie Mendez Gabi Mendez Lizzie Burbatt Danny Vaughan Billy Burbatt Kelly Vaughan Jodi Craigmile Curt Craigmile Deb&Jeff Marin Cathy Gainer Kris&Marc Morrison Nancy Putman Jack Shaver Jim Durkin Rick Webber Bruce Rigoni Sidney Gibson Jana Wennlund Maureen O'Keefe Bob Cupp Steff Karson Ann Metzger Kathy Basil Debbie&Joe Licatesi Lauren Casey Julie Joann Adams Lyssa Klein Gina&Bill Blouin Mary Hogan Kris&Marc Morrison Barb Germany Naomi Mostyn Linda Kooper Maria&Gary Despaltro MB&Pete Schmit Bill&Fish Carissa Germany Donna Lenkiewicz Diane Tubay Eliza Didomizio Dave Hamby Ma'Nique Moore Noreen Heneghan Jackie Pfrommer Jen Karnezis Becky Juntunen Sheila King SCSW Jenn Shaver Carrie Zakula Lisa Snyder Gina Zoetvelt Olivia Anderson Renee Gorski Mother May I Kathy Carr Karen&Bill Novak Carol&Joe Milkins Sharon Canniff Bob&Leslie Quirk Jacky Osowski Tracy Fushi Toby Adamson Steve Stroz Barb Bohn Karen Mellen John Cherise Piltaver Paul Beaty Ernie Torres Barb&Patrick Gordon The Tuider Family Colleen&Don Loconte Melissa Munroe Rich Hein John H. White Bob Black Brian Jackson Kara Spak Paige Wiser Scottie Stewart Keith Hale Tom Cruze Rich Chapman Carrie Ingraisano MB Rowerstein Michelle Latimer Margo Wooge Stephanie Pote Leigh&Brian DuMais Bonnie Smith Char&Jack Hummel Bob Warner Isobel DeRusha Stefano Esposito MB&Steve Johnson MA MB MC Witry Tracey&Tim Edwards Sue Suchy Tim Harlow Paula Kamen Mike Ramsey Jen Odell Kim Maholy Chris Craven Bob Mazzone Misha Davenport Barack&Michelle Obama Holly Richer Kari&Chris Abrahamsen Jen&Greg Kraft Toby Roberts Kayla Truffa Julie Cassara Faith Damm Courtney Sass Aunt Ann&Uncle John Beth McGrath Denise Cundiff Pam Teutmacher Melissa Slattery Mickey&Wynn Wendt Bob&Carol Mattson Marty Lachat Vance Pomransky Jacqui Cook Lisa Papp Lynn Lode Gina Marie Freeland Tom Behnke Miss Cathy Cheryl Swanson The Blank Family Danny Lachat Denise Boksa Tom Bartuska Jeff Hunter Eilean Zavala Lydia Waid Tom Clark The Buell Family Stacy Walker Jen&Terry Geary Julie Martin Patty Cunningham Rummana Hussein Steve Gohston Scott Josephs Liz Digitale Al Podgorski John Kim Dom Najolia Chris Sweda Steve Patterson Chris Fusco Lisa Donovan Kit Donahue Mary Cory Gram Ponz Bernie Tafoya Craig Dellimore Kuni Takahashi Chuck Berman Jose Osorio Alex Garcia Nancy Stone Jim Frost Brian Kersey Dave Hoekstra Tim Lachat Ches Wajda The Mahonys Linda Martin Kim Whitaker Lisa Houtchens Tony Killea Karyn Purvis Chuck Scott Bill Peters Tara Vranas The Fiene Family Jen Anderson The Metzchke Family Hanna Abusharif The Cholkes Dale Teddy Janet Fuller Colleen McKeever Jolie Becker John Madden Paula Burke Janine&Pat Sullivan Dave Klobucar Anne Ryan Matt Grotto Mary Mannix Paula Ryan Jon Gardner Meg Tebo Carol Slezak Bonnie Trafelet Carol&Bob Garcia

baby, it's cold.

It's (bleepin') cold outside.

The Governor still hasn't made a peep.

Christmas is only nine days away.

Such is life today. I managed to stay indoors most of the day, and then spent a completely enjoyable two hours with my friend Kara, trying to get one of the ex-cons who run the tree lots on the north side of Chicago to talk to us about Christmas tree sales. We almost struck out, but did finally get lucky at a place near Irving Park and the Kennedy. We talked to a mom and daughter who were getting help loading a tree on top of their car, and were able to do the story.

I can't believe I am still able to complain about the cold after 41 years of living in Chicago. But, really... it's merciless today. The kind of day when it's hard to breathe. Imagine if you were Blago, who can't breathe because it's cold outside and because his entire life is crashing down around him.

We took our Girl Scouts caroling today at a senior care facility in Orland Park. We've gone the past few years, and the girls enjoy it. They dress in bright colors and wear Santa hats. They really are stinkin' cute.

The residents really seem to enjoy it as well. With smiles on their faces, they listen to the songs and happily accept a handmade card when it is offered to them. The whole scene reminds me of my Gram, who is always missed, but especially so at Christmas.

Gram always said how much she enjoyed being around her great-grandchildren. Their voices and constant motion never bothered her. She welcomed the break in an otherwise "Groundhog" kind of day.

Tonight, the residents faces lit up as the girls sang. Some sat quietly and others sang along. It was really wonderful to spread a little Christmas cheer to a group of people who are so willing to accept it.

comfort and joy.

My daughter comforted me in my bed last night. I woke her up crying from a bad dream; she asked me if I was okay, told me everything would be all right, and gave me a hug, telling me to go back to sleep. She's only nine, but has the soul of a very old woman.

This morning, we talked about that, and I explained that I was having a bad dream about work and money, and that I had read somewhere that people dream so they can get stuff out of their head and not go crazy in the waking hours.

She kind of laughed, and the explanation seemed to satisfy her. Then we took a run up to the store formerly known as White Hen to get the ever-important cough drops she and her sister insisted they needed.

I am utterly thankful for my girls. The three of us make quite a team, and as I keep allowing them into decisions about our lives, things just seem to be shoring up nicely for our "girl power."

During service at Parkview yesterday, PT talked about Jesus' birth as a baby, "born unto a woman," and how significant the Christmas story actually is.

He reiterated that it was so very important for Jesus to be born just like all of us, to live life as one of us, so that God could feel all the things we feel and truly understand the human experience. Therefore, PT said, Jesus felt pain and sorrow and stress and loss and was sometimes frightened and worried. He did not live a charmed life, but worked and got dirty and did just what we do every day.

Today, I was comforted by the thought that maybe even Jesus might have occasionally woken up crying from a bad dream, only to realize that someone loved Him enough to reassure him in that moment, that everything would be okay.

it's why we do what we do.

It was a random Tuesday. Mostly the unexpected happens like that. Like a geurrilla attack, news of the most startling kind has a way of making the rest of my world come screeching to a halt. As far as I knew, I had a High School of the Week photo at Oak Forest. Like every day, I check in with Ernie on the the desk about 7:30AM to see what's up.

"Status quo?" I asked him when he answered the phone. "Wellll..." he said, "The governor just got arrested."

"You've got to be (bleeping) kidding me," I screamed. Nope, he confirmed. It just happened and the Tribune posted it a few minutes ago.

Then he told me to bip my job at Oak Forest and get downtown.

Like a kid on Christmas morning, I gleefully hurried to OFHS. I shot the kids and was out in seven minutes flat; and that included a short conversation with the assistant SD about the governor.

I spoke with Ernie a couple times in the car, and with the adrenalin flowing, headed to Dirksen Federal Building to join the rest of the horde already gathered there. Over the next couple hours, we waited and listened and waited. We talked, read the complaint and speculated on what would happen next.

This news was huge, by anyone's standards. And even when I never had a chance to shoot a single frame of Rod, it's a complete rush to be part of the story. And sitting there, in the courthouse, I knew people would be reading the paper the next day to make sense of it all. And we at the Sun-Times did a great job of breaking down the details and doing just that.

That is what it's all about.

when your competition contemplates bankruptcy...

and you're completely devastated.

I found out two photographers I admire, respect and genuinely like, were victims of more layoffs at the Trib this week. Despite what people might believe, photographers from both downtown papers generally get along great and are more like co-workers than enemies.

Jim and Milbert are outstanding people. Milbert has a child the same age as my younger daughter, and we always had plenty of notes to compare when, as we say in the business, "saw each other on the street." Jim is one of the finest sports photographers I've ever met. Both are stand-up guys.

I felt like crying when I heard the news. And then, while I can't sleep in these wee hours, I see that the Tribune Company is considering filing for bankruptcy. It's a sign of these very trying times, and the impending end of an era for news in its paper form.

It's a hard pill to swallow for someone whose entire career has been in newspapers. The saddest thing is there are thousands like me across the country, just sitting and waiting for what comes next. And there are people in the business for at least twice as long as me who are close to retirement and counting on a job to make it through the next couple of months or years.

I remember discussing this very issue way back in college in the 80s. My journalism professors at U of I spoke often of the up and coming computer technology with guarded optimism, talking about the enhancing, but possible destructive qualities of the medium.

Back then, it was just a concept, and no one was quite sure how everything would play out. The picture is clearer now, and the news is not good for the papers.

For someone who grew up reading the Sun-Times as the only paper in their Southside home and then actually got to work in the crappy little building on the river, it's absolutely heartbreaking.

So, the news about the Trib is almost as bad as hearing about my own newsroom. The uncertainty of the future is difficult at best. The only option is to hang on and see what happens.

God bless the delete button...

There are times when I am absolutely, without a doubt, certain that the dissolution of my marriage was in my best interest, and the best interest of my kids.

Don't get me wrong. It was painful and horrible and difficult and some days are still just a chore to get through. But overall, these shining moments of clarity let me know that I did indeed, make the best choice I could have.

Without going into details, Jess came home last night decked out in a very shiny gold metallic coat with a fur-lined hood, and a very big smile on her face after spending the evening with her dad.

I uttered a loud, "Hmm..." when I saw her jump out of the car, and not much else was said. Except for Jessie, who proudly announced, "Hi mom, do you like my new coat?" I said I did, the girls said goodnight to their dad and he took off.

The drop-off was followed up with an email later last night:

"Jessie looks like a homeless child most of the time when I pick her up. Her clothes are mismatched, she rarely has socks on and now the jacket. She tells me that she is wearing clothes like this to school and I don't understand."

I'll suffice it to say that I pick my battles with the kids and when Jess wants to wear a particular coat, as long as it's clean and it's not dragging along on the ground behind her, then I don't worry much about it.

I guess that when two people can't really talk to each other the way normal adults do, situations like this are unavoidable. An uncomfortable exchange that is best left in it's electronic form.

The delete button gets pressed and harmful words are gone, returned forever to cyberspace.

As much as I wish that sometimes life had its own "delete" button, I am trying (really hard) to spin the negative into positive these days.

And I'm absolutely positive that when I followed my heart, it didn't let me down.