Something I just figured out

I've sometimes wondered why I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Which I am.  Like, when Jennifer Napier-Pearce called me into her office last winter, I assumed she was going to fire me.  I put on my best, stoic "I-assume-you're-going-to-fire-me" face, made a plan to eat myself into a coma afterward, and then carry on the way one does after a) being fired and b) eating too much.

Turns out she wanted me to be an advice columnist.

This morning as I was walking my damn dog Tinkerbell around Liberty Park, I had an ah-ha moment.  The reason I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop?  It's because I had a father who on more than one occasion cheerfully said, "There are only two types of coaches in America:  the ones that have been fired.  And the ones who are about to be fired."

There it is.  The answer.

I haven't been writing because I've been afraid I would linger too much on my dad's death and what things look like from here now.  I've been afraid it would look like a play for sympathy or something. But.  Whatever.  I want to write about where I am these days--just like I've done for the past thirty years.  So I hope you'll indulge me.