Good word(s)

Being a wordsmith, I've always loved a good quote. Language can work wonders in a sound bite. Well, try this one on for size:

God doesn't call the qualifed.
He qualifies the called.

I heard this in church yesterday. People applauded. I saw the guy in front of me write it down.

Whether or not you believe in God, it is such a statement about courage and its role in embracing our destiny. We almost never feel prepared enough, smart enough, schooled enough for the next step. Yet we feel the pull. How wonderful is the concept of having faith that if you follow your calling the "qualified" part will come? Isn't it just a big, fat relief?

Keep forging your path.

Unstick your style

Have you seen those new ads for Dove's latest hair product? There are poster ads all over the subway of Wilma Flintstone on one and Jane Jetson on another. We see them with their classic hairdo and then next to it is how they look with their hair down. Oooh la la. The cartoon ladies let it all hang out. The slogan says, "Unstick your style."

I found that particularly apt today upon returning from Manhattan. I went to church and then embarked on what author Julia Cameron calls an artist date. The idea is to take your inner artist out for a fresh dose of energy, creativity and inspiration. I could have joined friends going to a movie, but I was being pulled in another direction. It was so clear.

Let me backtrack a bit. A very wise man told me some weeks ago that I was wearing my attitude about money like an old coat that doesn't fit me anymore. That has stuck with me day after day. It's such a strong metaphor. One day this week I was writing my morning pages (another Julia Cameron tool) and an idea came pouring out of the pen. Wouldn't it be a bold statement to literally go buy a new coat? I mean, I love my green DKNY jacket but it has seen better days and it is a bit drab. Plus, given my big revelation in yesterday's post that I've shrunk my body down a bit, it seemed like a nice way to celebrate.

Fast forward to today. I walked down Fifth Ave. from the Plaza to Lord & Taylor. It was exhilarating. I was equipped with a gift card I had received at Christmas. I went in there with an open mind. Would it be a winter coat? A fresh spring trench? Let the coat find you, Nancy.

I took the escalator to the sixth floor and stepped off with anticipation. There were beautiful long coats, classics, but I already have a richly cut, long black Tse coat from Saks. I was looking for something more sassy or whimsical. I kept gravitating to the black ones. Nicely shaped, but oh so safe. Wasn't that the mindset I was trying to shed?

Then I found this cute little Kenneth Cole jacket. It was duck down but not puffy. (I was trying to show off my shape, not add to it!) I tried it on. It came in several colors. I tried on the black. Wow. Great fit. Short. Practical. Oops. Stop right there. Practical? Hmmmmm. I looked around and saw that it came in pink. Now what is sassier than pink?

Two older women were trying on some Calvin Klein jackets next to me. They saw me take off the black one and put on the pink and they both started telling me in broken English that the pink was a must. That was it. I brought it to the register, where the woman in front of me proceeded to hand me her 20 percent off coupon out of the goodness of her heart. I walked out of that store feeling like a million bucks.

When I got home, I went to my scarf drawer to see what I might have to match. I nearly gasped when I saw this scarf I have never worn. My mother got it for Christmas and didn't feel she'd get use out of it so she gave it to me. It's pink, red and white striped fleece. Yes, the pink matches. But it gets better. I dug to the bottom of the drawer and found a pair of gloves I haven't worn for years. They're in pristine shape and they're red!

I'm starting to sound like a loon now, right? Well, baby, I'll be a well-dressed one at that.

Unstick your style. I highly recommend it.

Weight matters

So the other day a friend, who happens to be a personal trainer, says, "You've lost more weight." Well, I smiled the big smile that comes naturally with that comment, but it was a rather bloat-y day, truth be told, and I thought he was wrong. He cracked up because I think he read my reaction correctly.

Well today, a not so bloat-y day, I decided to get on the scale at the gym. This is something I do only a few times a year when the mood hits. As it turns out, I've lost four pounds since October. That brings me to 27 pounds since June of 2003. By most standards, this is a snail's pace. By my standards, it's a fabulously healthy, natural and perfect pace.

I find it ironic that this fun little milestone comes the day after I shared a huge cheese danish with a friend. I mean, that thing was coated in icing and the cheese was liquid-y soft. Yum. This is the key for me. Once I stopped dieting, which only made me think about food more, it became easier. Once I started thinking about why I was putting a sugar-y or starch-y concoction in my mouth and stopped using it as reward, comfort, salve, I started seeing weight just naturally come off.

Don't get me wrong. It's been a long and steady process, for sure. I read labels carefully and don't buy many processed foods. I happen to love salads and devour them regularly, at least once a day. Most of my carb consumption is whole grain or whole wheat, including pasta. I occasionally indulge in dessert and don't think twice about it when I do. I exercise at least three days a week and have a walking lifestyle.

What I found is this is not a big mystery. The answer is simple; the problem is its execution is not. It requires thought and baby steps and patience and persistence. Striving to live a healthier life works for me.

So after leaving the gym this morning, I went to a cafe to do some writing and enjoy a nice cup of coffee (with cream). As I left, I ran into the personal trainer friend and told him he's a visionary. He smiled his big smile and went off to train his next client.

Wonderful.

Dodging a bullet

What a disturbing experience I had earlier today. I'm very happy and thankful to be in my nice, warm home ending it on a very high note.

I had a telephone consultation with someone (an aspiring life coach) who decided that her right to express freely should supersede things like professionalism, finishing what you start, and learning about yourself through goal-setting. She ended our session abruptly, saying she could see having me for a friend but we wouldn't be able to work together because we both talk too much. Well, truth be told, I like to talk. But in the context of a consultation I'm not inclined to do much of it. However, this woman asked me some things about myself. We had established a comfortable rapport. I shared a personal experience that related to a goal we were setting for her. We were way ahead of schedule in the hour-long session. I stood there looking at my phone in disbelief after we hung up.

I think it's a safe bet I dodged a bullet there.

Secret admiration

One of my favorite exercises in The Artist's Way was in the chapter I covered with my group tonight. Author Julia Cameron asks you to name five people you admire and five people you secretly admire. When you look at the traits of those on the first list and then see what the people on the second list have in common, it's often astounding to realize what qualities you secretly admire. Cameron asks you to be with that latter part of yourself for a while.

So here's what that means for me. I secretly admire Madonna, Howard Stern, Frank Sinatra, Bill Clinton and Katharine Hepburn. The traits they bring to mind are smarts, fearlessness, vision, "my way or the highway" philosophy, overcoming adversity.

Looks like I have my work cut out for me.

Senior center

I'm working with senior citizens three days a week and I'm finding it stimulating and sometimes amusing. They are alternately sweet and feisty and ornery and stubburn and witty. What a hoot.

What I love is that they come to the center to keep active, be it physically or mentally or socially. Then can discuss the events in the Middle East, play bridge, do dancercize, watch a movie, take voice, listen to a lecture or try their hand at watercolors. I like listening to them whether they're voicing a concern, making a helpful suggestion or just plain griping.

It seems I've found a home, even if it's just for a while. I keep telling my new friends there that they're stuck with me for about six weeks. It makes them laugh. Today I told one guy it'll be time for me to leave just when he's fallen in love with me.

It might be the other way around.

A real rush

About a month ago I was power walking down at the waterfront near my home when I saw all the corporate types walking from the train station to work in the morning rush hour. I remember thinking how miserable they looked and how I never wanted to look like that.

I thought of that today as I reported to my three-day-a-week gig in the city for the first time. As I walked expressionless with other commuters en masse toward the subway, I suddenly heard this man preaching from a little platform as people streamed by. This was his truth: "They've been fixing this subway system for 25 years and it still looks like shit." I smiled, suppressing an out-and-out chortle. No one else seemed fazed.

Alas, I am not one of them.

Digging for dreams

I had two coaching consultations today. It never ceases to amaze me how fascinating those are. Every time. As we dissect their current lives and probe into future possibilities, I sense a shift in people. They suddenly dare to hope. We've made it all real. Life can change.

Once goals are put to paper, made concrete, they become imprinted in minds as well. It's a baby step that eventually leads to a giant leap forward. And isn't it all about that? Feeling we're effecting changes that are challenging, exhilarating even? I know it is.

I'm fired up at the idea of working with one or both of these people. I want them to find the next thing, work the transition time for all its worth and come out the other side with a flourish.

Yes, yes, yes.

Senior moments

I'm starting a new job on Tuesday and I'm really excited about it. I'm going to be the program director for Council Senior Center on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. This is some rockin' senior center. They have classes and events ranging from collage and knitting to computers and short story discussions.

It's part-time, which will allow me to continue coaching and writing and teaching. Plus, it will utilize so many of my professional skills -- communication, coordination, managing, organizing, writing, interacting, innovating. After applying unsuccessfully for much less stimulating part-time work in order to get a steady income, this seems like it was meant to be on several levels.

First, to be honest, it's a bit of an ego boost. I mean, the local stationery store said "No, thank you" to me two months ago and there's still a sign up in the window saying they're looking for people. (What the hell are they looking for????)

Second, on a more positive note, I got an incredibly good vibe from Ruth, the woman to whom I'll be reporting at the senior center. I love those moments in life when you just know you've met someone who will make some sort of impact on your life.

Third, how inspiring is it to see such vibrant activity for seniors? I'm so intrigued by the idea. This feels very new and challenging and I'm wide open to the possibilities.

I'm fairly certain you'll be hearing more as this unfolds. I'm looking forward to sharing.

Snowglobe

A blizzard. Law & Order Special Victims Unit. Butterscotch pudding with a dash of cinnamon. A chance to do some writing. Sex and the City. A nice long shower. The latest issue of O magazine. Fresh candles burning, including one labeled "prosperity." A spectacularly pristine view out my huge windows reminiscent of a snowglobe.

Now this is nesting.

Massage-less

I was supposed to have a massage today. I'm going to try not to whine about the fact that the massage therapist cancelled to take her dog to the vet. But I will confess that I cursed out that dog but good. Over and over again. Call me crass. Call PETA. Whatever.

My last massage was September 10, 2001. It was in Nantucket. I was there for a wedding on September 8, a beautiful celebration of two wonderful people. I stayed two extra days so I could read on the porch swing of my bed-and-breakfast, take long walks, shop and get pampered. It was heavenly.

The next day the World Trade Center fell and a complicated series of events led to me starting my own business. The dinners out, the shopping sprees and the pampering were all cut back in the interest of launching the coaching practice. It's been challenging, albeit worth the spiritual and emotional benefits that have come with it.

But I digress. The point is, it's been a while since I had that kind of pampering and I was really looking forward to it.

Sigh.

Dream interrupted

I had a vivid dream last night. It was so disturbing. I went to bed at about 2 a.m. and fell asleep almost immediately. I must have started dreaming right away:

There was a man trying to climb in my window. I live on the first floor, but my windows are high enough off the ground where someone would need a ladder or boost of some kind to reach. He tried and gave up. Then he came back. Tried again. Couldn't get in. Then someone else tried. There were several in a row. They were relentless. They couldn't get in. I saw them and picked up the phone to call the police. I tried information and got the wrong number. I tried to look it up myself and couldn't find it. I tried to call "0" and have them put me through. Nothing worked. I heard something by my apartment door. I got up to look. The door was wide open. That's when I noticed the bathroom door was closed over -- someone was hiding in there. I ran out the front door and closed it behind me. I held the knob to keep the intruder inside. I held it very tightly.

Suddenly I woke up with a start. It was 2:44 a.m. I hadn't even been sleeping that long. I got up, checked the locks on my front door and jammed a wooden stick above the window frame.

It was chilling. I slept soundly. I wonder what it all means.

The Road Not Taken

I've been reading poetry lately. It had been a while. I have a pretty decent collection.

This is what speaks to me today:

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

-- Robert Frost

Day in a life

I had the kind of day that is so rare in its messages and clarity that I am almost at a loss to ingest it all. A networking meeting rich in referrals and potential coaching opportunities. A session of journaling that revealed some promising insights around my book. A Fed-Ex delivery of wonderful chocolates from a sweet friend to thank me for helping her with a project. A wonderful interview for an intriguing job. Some time in Starbucks with an informative book designed to help me augment my business. The first of 12 classes in a course that I sense beyond a shadow of a doubt will change my life. Dinner with one of my favorite people in the world.

Ahhhhhhhh.

How nice

Do you ever think about how nice a person you are? Do you strive to be nice? Does it come more naturally than that?

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. About how much I like to be nurturing and playful and how rarely I tap into that. Or how often I actually suppress my nicer qualities in order to be driven, career-minded, strong. Like a default self. It's not intentional, really, more subconscious.

What does it all mean? I'm not sure, but for me there's an element of vulnerability involved in being softer. It's easier to be the tough broad. Harder to let down my guard.

By becoming acutely aware of this recently, I'm taking it as a sign it's time to effect some change in myself. I'm a nice person. Why suppress it?

Stay tuned.

Seeing green

I'm experiencing the green-eyed monster right now. Wow. It's so rare for me to be jealous of anyone or anything. Especially professionally. But it's hitting me in waves and it's ugly. Someone I know and respect is succeeding in a way I want to be and it's really bothering me.

I refuse to get mired in it, so I'm putting on the brakes right here. I'm going to embrace what Julia Cameron advocates in her book, The Artist's Way. Jealousy can basically be used as a map. I like this line:

When you learn to harness its fierce energy on your own behalf, jealousy is part of the fuel toward a greener and more verdant future.

All this emotion means is that there is something I want to be doing with my talent that I'm not tapping into right now. What can I do to change that? As I set out my actions for the week, it's time to get hardcore about some things.

And what better encouragement can I get than seeing Marc Cherry win a Golden Globe for writing Desperate Housewives? He just accepted the award and talked about not being able to get even an interview for nearly three years. Now he's winning top honors for a hit TV show. I love that!

OK, Nancy, take a deep breath. Green be gone.

White clam sauce

I just had one of those creative experiences in the kitchen. I'm not one to cook often and when I do it's not usually fancy or involved. But today I was in the mood to "throw" something together using ingredients in my cupboard and refrigerator. In other words, more like Rachael Ray than Martha Stewart.

So I put extra virgin olive oil, a can of minced clams, fresh mushrooms, garlic, a splash of white wine and lots of spices from the cabinet and let it simmer. I boiled some whole wheat angel hair, tossed it all together, added some fresh parmesan and, let me tell you, had a party in my mouth.

It's amazing how proud I feel when cooking something that simple. I think it's because it's an occasional creative outlet and I don't expect big things from it. It's not like when I write and get a tad perfectionist. It's more like a hobby.

A really delicious one.

Munchkins

Rather than try to recreate the post that just got lost because I failed to save it and my computer froze, I'm scrapping it. Ha. How's that for petulant? Or is it some kind of "wasn't meant to be" mentality taking over?

Whatever.

So instead I'm going to write about the little walk I just took to Dunkin Donuts. I was craving some coffee (decaf at this hour). I sent an IM to a friend who's frenetically working on his apartment asking if he was perchance craving some DD beverage. He didn't want to break his flow, so I offered to get him some chai and drop it off. He was delighted and, frankly, skeptical. Why was I being so nice? (Scary, right? Another post for another day).

So off I went. Two whole blocks. It's unseasonably warm here, so it was pleasant enough. I order the beverages. The donuts are calling, which is rare for me, so I decide to indulge the sweet tooth with two Munchkins. Jelly ones. The guy smiles and loads the bag with a bunch, then doesn't charge me. I don't have the heart to tell him his kind gesture is defeating the purpose of my getting Munchkins instead of a whole donut. So I take them home and enjoy every last one. (Didn't want to tempt the hardworking friend, who's watching his sugar intake these days).

The moral of the story? I love urban life.

Manifest this

Last night I facilitated a discussion titled "What Are You Manifesting?" at a cafe in the West Village. I've been thinking about that a lot lately so I thought it might be interesting to get different points of view on it. I figured there might be some polarization, which would make it all the more interesting.

What actually happened was illuminating to me. People seemed to get mired in a "victim" aspect of manifestation. In other words, if you believe that you create your life and are responsible for every single thing that happens in it, that can be kind of daunting. So the conversation turned into a citing of things we cannot control in our lives, of how manifestation can only go so far. While that's a valid piece of the discussion, I felt it went on too long.

So I attempted to switch gears. What about the empowerment aspect of manifestation? If the theory goes you are responsible for putting yourself in a bad or even dire situation, that can evoke anger and frustration. But then you can transform that into something powerful. You can turn it around and make it work for you. Isn't it empowering to know you are the person with the power to lift yourself out of that same situation? People seemed to have a hard time staying on track with that.

To me, that's the best part about it. If I'm in a place where I'm ready to manifest big things, then I'm going to make it happen. How great is that?

Pretty darned great, I'd say.

Consultation

Wow, did I have a great coaching session with someone today. We set three goals in a one-hour consultation. But this one had a bonus -- I unblocked him!

Sometimes I marvel at my own innate ability to make people see their potential. I honestly don't know where it comes from except to surmise it stems from my genuine interest in what they're saying and what they're hoping to accomplish.

One of his goals was to begin his book, an autobiography. He started to tell me about it. I said, "That's your first sentence." He told me some more. I said, "You're writing your book right now." He was blown away. So was I, frankly. Then he started making notes on index cards.

All I know is I got home nearly four hours later and I already had a message on my answering machine from a woman he referred to me.

Now that's a consultation.

Coach thyself

I'm coaching myself. Ha. How ingenious is that?

Perhaps you're wondering if it isn't a given that a life coach would coach herself. Duh. On some level, of course we do.

But I decided I'd take it up a notch. I have these binder notebooks with action sheets that I give clients so they can organize their week-by-week activities. So I gave myself one. I created three goals. I wrote a list of actions for the week -- 21 of them! Geek that I am, I've already done 10 items on the list. It makes me feel so productive. And, somehow, free.

There's something about putting your goals on paper that makes them concrete. It gives them credence. My progress will feel more tangible because it's all there in the notebook.

All doors are open, all channels are free, the whole wide world says yes to me!

Speak easy

I had the opportunity to listen to a renowned speaker today. She's an author. She's been on the Today show. She gives talks all over the world. And for the life of me I can't figure out why.

I don't mean to sound flip or mean or overly critical. It was just that I found myself mentally listing all the things that weren't working as she spoke. The anecdote without a conclusion. The constant asking for a show of hands which felt like an effort after the first two times. The lack of connection with the audience. The frozen expression.

I found myself wanting charisma and exuberance. Or deadpan humor. Or real, honest-to-God drama. Her message would have been so much more compelling if she had been feeling it as she spoke. I just kept waiting for it to get better or more convincing. It was kind of surreal.

I observe people very closely when they work a room and I'm also very tuned in to the reactions of the audience members. Perhaps I'm a bit spoiled. Every week at church I get to hear ministers who are top-notch speakers. Each has a different style but both are very effective and consistent. They have passion and expertise and they convey their message with sweet ease.

Man, I love that.

Of things genuine

Yesterday for the first time I came close to taking a blog post down after I published it. I had written about my "wants" of the moment with glee and abandon. Career wants. Luxury wants. It was fun.

Then I turned on the TV. I had been avoiding coverage of the tsunami disaster since it happened nearly two weeks ago. I'm not sure why. Regardless, I decided it was time to get informed and so I watched a CNN special about it. I sat there trying to absorb the devastation just minutes after writing a post wishing I was in a suite at the Ritz Carlton.

Let me say this. I'm not an advocate of the approach that we should look at people with large-scale problems and subsequently feel ours are dwarfed in comparison. It's unhealthy and often debilitating because it implies, “My problems aren’t real. They’re nothing compared to this.” Well, a little perspective might be a good thing but denying your problems is not.

So back to the TV. People are vacationing one minute, wiped out the next. Bodies are floating in the water. People are losing hold of loved ones in the deadly surges. The walls of flyers for “missing” loved ones are filled to the brim, reminiscent of 9/11.

But then come the heartfelt stories. The couple using their plane to bring supplies and food to destitute areas. The silent little boy who finally connects with another human being. The son and father reunited. The lone man who survives in his wiped-out community.

The tears I shed were genuine.

But so were the wants I listed on the blog.

The two are not mutually exclusive.

I want

I want to have a coaching column in a national publication.

I want to go on an art tour of Europe.

I want to sip champagne in a fabulous suite in the Ritz Carlton.

I want to be an in-demand public speaker.

I want to continue evolving spiritually.

I want lots of open-minded, committed clients.

I want to be a published author.

I want to immerse myself in all the luxuries of a plush spa.

That's all for now.

Decorating sense

So I'm on the treadmill at the gym today. There's a decorating show on the TV closest to me. I'm cool with that since I love seeing rooms redesigned (unless it's Trading Spaces, which for some reason annoys me, but I digress).

So the hosts rework a very nice living room and make it go from good to great (their words). Near the end, one host says there are fun ways to make your room look more "lived in." I'm with him so far. Then he names them:

1. If you have a beautiful chess set on display, have it set up so it appears there is a rigorous game happening.

2. Open the songbook on the piano to a family favorite as if someone was just belting out a tune.

3. Put an open book on the end table to evoke a feeling someone was just there reading.

Huh????? Is this guy for real?????

Here's an idea. Actually play chess, use your piano and read a freakin' book. Is that really a novel concept? Living without pretense, facade? Am I reading too much into this? I think not.

I understand decorating will often have an element of camouflage or disguising flaws. But what of this trend of making things look distressed? A few things here and there, OK. But how about actually displaying something with authentic old charm? Why the guise of character? Why not actual character?

Think about it.

Power lunch

I don't know who invented the term "power lunch" but they must have had in mind what I experienced today, even if I was dressed in yoga pants and a sweatshirt. A friend and I ate fabulous pesto chicken sandwiches and had a souped-up brainstorming session. I'm very fired up about all the possibilities.

This friend always makes me think outside the box. She suggests things and thinks out loud and the next thing I know I'm crafting a plan. I love that. She's sort of my every-so-often life coach.

As time goes by I'll be getting into more detail about the upcoming plan. Stick with me.

Good morning

I left the house for my networking meeting at 6:20 this morning. It's about a 12-block walk, one which I enjoy most weeks. This morning there was a light spritzing of rain, but the temperature was 47 so it was really pleasant to stroll, even if it was still dark.

As I passed the bus stops every other block and saw all the "suits" waiting to board, I thought about how much I would hate that kind of work schedule every day. There was a time when I thought people who were up and out and productive that early were accomplishing more than me or that they were more diligent. No longer.

Funny what self-employment makes you realize. I've always been a night person and often I'm doing my best work at 11 p.m. To each his own and all that jazz.

Once I reached my meeting, I greeted the first person there with a comment about how great the 50-degree weather has been. He said, "It's not going to last."

I laughed.

"I consider it a bonus. It is January after all," I replied as I hung up my trenchcoat.

What I wanted to say:

"Come on, baby. Live in the moment, will ya?"

It would have been so much more fun that way.

Reaffirming

Today I found an affirmation I wrote last summer. I had been reading it twice a day for months. I'm not sure when I stopped. Here's how it reads:

I will carry out actions each day that will contribute to my goal of growth, of enlarging myself in the deepest, most profound sense, so I may fully become one with my destiny of greatness.

I believe I found it this first week of the year for a reason, so I've decided to recommit to it as my daily affirmation, or at least one of them. I always have at least one about abundance, too.

I find affirmations so grounding and empowering now. But I confess that wasn't always the case. I used to scoff at them, frankly. Now that I know how to use them, now that I'm more open about almost everything, I can't believe I ever thought otherwise.

How affirming.

Nervous energy -- yes!

I have butterflies in my stomach. I think the nervousness stems from embarking on the professional challenges I have in front of me this year. It's always a good sign when this feeling hits the pit of my gut. I never met a deadline I didn't thrive on.

That quality came in pretty handy when I was a daily journalist. But it can get a little dicey in other areas of life. Nothing like putting your back to the wall to get your kicks, huh? It's heady. I think it's one of the things that makes me interesting. Does that sound narcissistic?

Sometimes I feel like a hypocrite when I'm coaching a client who is apologetic about waiting until the last minute to get something done. I certainly don't advocate that M.O. for everyone all the time. But there's something about it that works for me a good deal of the time. A friend pointed that out to me a few months ago and I found it to be an astute observation.

The bottom line is I have a lot of admiration for people who accomplish great things when they've hit a low point, when their backs are to the wall. J.K. Rowling, Oprah, Streisand. I never consciously set out to be one of them but it seems that since a layoff nearly three years ago I have been forced to evaluate what really, really matters to me. Am I so convinced that coaching and writing are my destiny that I'm willing to do anything to make the combo work?

At what point do I say, "Nancy, you've lost your marbles. Now assemble them and go hop on the 9-to-5 treadmill." Hmmmmmm. Feels like it's do or die time.

No wonder the butterflies are in flight.

New Year

I'm taking a deep breath and starting anew.

Stay tuned.