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The First Rule of the Fight Diet…

In the last month, we took a two-week trip by car, spent time with the in-laws, and most recently, were snowed in, as a family, for the last eight days. (The “by car” part is important because I back-seat drive. A lot. I even slam my foot on an imaginary brake if I’m feeling like we’re going to slam into the car in front of us. Funny, right? Not really, because it drives him insane.) Add to that the stress and pressures of travel and holidays and the drudgery of returning to the grind in January temperatures.

Then, because you’re me, top it with starting an extremely rigorous 10-week gut healing protocol during which we have to eat like saints, abstain from alcohol and take supplements six times a day…including one that tastes a little bit like mud. (It’s basically a Whole 30, twice, minus the coffee, plus the mud.) And, because I’m a glutton for punishment, why not throw in a significant ramp-up of my communications consulting business and the launch of my new podcast.

Naturally, all that might explain the curious absence of blog posts over the last month. But, more importantly, if you mix all that stuff up in this bowl we call marriage you have quite the recipe. A spectacular recipe, actually. For…well…how should I say it? The F word.

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Drowning in the Uncertainty of Marriage

The other night we were watching Togetherness. Do you watch it? It’s awkward and funny and will give you a sentimental lump in your throat when you least expect it. Which is a strangely realistic portrayal of what it’s like to be thirtysomething and trying to navigate the realms of marriage and friendship.

In one scene, the lead couple with the fractured marriage are muddling through a tough situation where their sex life just isn’t working. The husband harkens back to an interview with George Harrison’s wife he saw [in a Scorcese movie]: “When she’s asked to name the secret to a long marriage, she laughs and says, “You don’t get divorced.”

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The Long Lost Art of Writing Love Letters

More often than I’d like to admit, I find myself stuck in analysis paralysis when it comes to gifts. I either knock it out of the park and buy someone exactly what we both know they want or I troll endlessly for the perfect something and end up with exactly nothing.

This is especially true when it comes Adrian and any holiday that implies a gift exchange. Even though he has a robust Amazon wish list, I would feel extremely uncomfortable buying him surround sound speakers to express my love and appreciation. (He, honestly, would be super psyched.)  Weeks slip into days and days slip into hours before I’m supposed to have a present wrapped and ready to go and, all too often, I show up empty-handed. Which, at that point, you may as well not show up at all.

But, not this year. Nope. I wasn’t going to get caught empty-handed. I don’t do that stuff anymore. Not me…I show up. (*bites nails* ) 

So, in the event that I did not successfully acquire material gifts, I wanted to have a Plan B.

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