"Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence." -- H.L. Mencken

What an interesting thought, dear Mencken.  I considered this for a while and decided I surely agree.  Love requires the ability to look at things through a rose colored glass.  If we were only capable of seeing the hard facts, love would never be possible.  Love is not something to be analyzed, or synthesized, or measured.  Love is something to be created, enjoyed, and shared.  Though without the great intelligent thinkers of our world we would lack some of our greatest conveniences (electricity, automobiles, the concept of gravity), without the great lovers of the world we would have nothing.

In essence, I'd rather live in a fairy tale for the rest of my life than be the smartest one in reality.  Bring on the fantasy, the once upon a time, the imaginary world of beautiful, sweet, tender love.  You can take your calculus and your literary analysis and your physics.  As yet, there is no formula in chemistry that produces more happiness than love.  So keep your algebra, your rocket science, your botany, your astronomy.  I'll take the love...even if it is all a dream.

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Sometimes I feel like life is a puzzle with too many pieces.

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Love, Translat-ed.

I believe that the French have a way with words.  And it is almost always lost in translation.  One of my favorite nuances is the way the French talk about family.

Instead of saying you're going to spend time with your family this weekend, the French say 'you're going to spend time in family.'  As if being with your family is an entirely different state of being.  Ironically, it is often the truth.  When a family gathers around the table for a meal, the energy is unlike any other, as if the bonds that nature made reconnect instantly.

I know the holiday season can be stressful, and we don't always remember to express our love for those around us, but please take a moment this weekend to be en famille.  Ils vous aiment.



Wish-ed List.

During this season of hope, of giving, of love, of spirit, I've decided to make a wish list of just a few stocking stuffers for my readers.  May you all find the following somewhere in your life:

1.  toothache love, so sweet it hurts
2.  red balloon laughs, light and bright
3.  a clock that ticks in reverse, time tucked into all the tiny corners of your pockets
4.  simplicity, complication, control, excess
5.  a reflection that reveals truth, ciao bella
6.  a spot on the naughty list
7.  and chocolate. always, chocolate.

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Tim-ed Out.

A few friends have gone through some tough stuff lately.  So, I thought I'd send out my love in the best way I know how.  My three M's, this is for all of you...


It is the only constant in life. It is the steady beating drum to which we all march. Though the rhythm is varied and the tempo ranges, we can always hear the faint drumming in the far off distance. Sometimes, the tempo picks up and time seems to pass so quickly that we often accuse it of disappearing: “where did the time go?” And in other moments of life, it marches along so slowly, we wonder if it is just standing still.

Whatever the rhythm, we all seem to take time for granted. We believe that time is our own and we may spend it however we like. But the fact of the matter is that time is not ours at all. In fact, it is quite the opposite: we belong to time.

Like a caring mother, time is patient. It helps us onto our feet and pushes us into the world with a gentle shove. But time also masquerades as a thief; it takes our loved ones, our youth, and our memories. But if time is such a vicious villain, why do we continue to ask for more? “I need more time.”

We ask for more, because we know that with each moment we are given, there is a lesson to be learned. With time comes wisdom. And if there is one thing we learn, it is that time is not such a criminal after all.

In fact, one thing that is proven over and over in history is the power of time. It is the greatest healer that exists, mending broken hearts and broken bones and broken spirits.

So perhaps time takes things from us only to teach us its value, to help us become stronger. Time is a healer, a teacher, a thief. Time is a rhythm, an age, a gift. But whatever time may present itself as, the only constant we can count on, is bittersweet time.



During this time of year, I often think about the overwhelming presence of hope and faith and belief that seems to float heavily in the air.  Though sometimes I find myself a little intimidated by the thought of believing in something bigger than me, I have to remind myself that a belief is actually the most liberating experience one can have because in fact it is so personal, so unique. I have to admit I've never been much of a religious person, but during my brief stint with yoga practice, I found the closest thing to a spiritual awakening I've ever experienced.  Somewhere between downward dog and pretzel pose I had a vision.

A woman with long brown wavy hair floated naked down a river, propelled by the soft current of a waterfall.  Her hair radiated around her face in a mane of soft waves and her naked breasts soaked up the brilliant sun beaming down from the heavens.  The coolness of the water and the warmth of the sunlight created the perfect temperature, the perfect balance.  Comfort.  She lay, floating, the universe holding her up and beaming down upon her all at once.  Never before had she known such peace.  So exposed, so bare, so human.  There she laid waiting.

This vision drifted through my open mind during one of these yoga sessions.  I remember interrupting my dream to switch into a new position, but as soon as I settled in, the vision came rushing back.

What was she waiting for?  It was like a cliffhanger that played on loop.  The harder I searched for an explanation, the further away it felt.  Then, as I sunk deeper into lotus pose, I found my answer.

She was waiting for God.

I’m not sure what this vision was supposed to mean: if it was a reflection of myself and my pursuit for spiritual guidance, or if it was a sweat-induced daydream of a woman at peace, constructed to ease my weary mind and muscles.  Whatever the purpose of the vision, it remains ingrained in my soul.  Every so often something in my life will bring this vision to the forefront of my mind; flipping through the latest Oprah magazine in the doctor’s office, drumming my thumbs on the steering wheel as I wait for the light to turn green.  Sometimes I feel like I’m the woman, floating in a world of chaos, waiting on Him to show up--as if I’m the hostess of a dinner party and He is my last guest to arrive.  I can’t seem to remember if He’s RSVPed, but I’ve set a place setting for Him anyway.  This is how I think of my God.  I’m not quite sure if He’s coming, or if He’s already arrived, but I’ll wait for Him anyway.  Because that’s what good hostesses do.

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Diagnos-ed with Old Love Syndrome

Why is it that the only time we diagnose something in our lives is when we're physically unhealthy?  Perhaps that's the only time when something can be treated.  But when you think about it, aren't there a million other times in our lives when we need to recognize our symptoms, diagnose the problem, and treat it?! 

I ask you to consider the following case: 

An old lover comes back into the picture via a flirty text.  Patient A responds with an equally flirty text and continues to banter back and forth via mobile device into the late evening.  11:58pm to be exact.  The situation that caused to the initial breakup of said love affair is unclear.

Patient A presents herself to her mental health professionals--her girlfriends--and asks them to diagnose her.  Here is what they determine:

Diagnosis: Old Love syndrome
Cause: Flirty late-night text sessions, lack of closure in previous encounters
Symptoms: Incessant thoughts of getting back together with old lover; incessant self-reprimanding for thinking of getting back together with old lover; frustration about current love situation; experiences involuntary random memories of previous hookups, things said, and moments spent together
Treatment: Unfortunately, treatment for this disease is not simple.  Milder cases can be cured with a few nights on the town.  More severe cases must be isolated, tested, and treated with one of the following:

a.  a strong martini, a night out on the town, and a makeout session with a very attractive new boy.
b.  a strong martini, a night out with said love interest, and a makeout session with said lover.
c.  a strong martini, a night in with the girls, and a willingness to accept the fact that the symptoms may have been quieted for the time being, but a future late night text could potentially spark a flare up of the disease and treatment a or b must be implemented.

Please see the front desk for your prescription (vodka) and to schedule your next appointment (tonight).

Hope this helps.
Dr. -ed