Hello there!

Welcome to my little corner of the ether. This is where you will find information about my books and musings on life and love in New York City. To stay in the loop about all things ADR...


It was a good day.  A sunny and sweaty day, full of smiles.  The girls are fast asleep.  And Husband and I are on our way soon.  And though I have a lot of fun ideas percolating, I am feeling rather tired and uninspired.  And dizzy with that feeling of generalized anxiety that there are a lot of things I should be worrying about, but somehow I am too exhausted to identify what those things are. So, instead of leaving you all sans Sunday post, I engaged in a little real-time research to see what others out there are stressing about on this spring Sunday.  I logged on to YouBeMom, an online parenting forum and asked: What is your biggest source of anxiety right now?  And within ninety seconds (you've gotta love the Internet), I got the following responses:

* making sure my marriage doesn't fall apart * stay at my job or go independent * that I have none. It's freaking me out to be without anxiety. * swine, obvi * the fact that i'm due in 8 weeks, and DH's company will likely go under while I'm on mat leave. * ugh...worry about my kids, my husband's job, etc. * it's a tie between 3 yr old and work but i think work is winning * swine flu * my kids staying cool, it's like 90 in the bedrooms right now * this house needs to sell! * finding a babysitter for next week * grad school finals * perimenopause * my first ultra sound May 5th, the wait is killing me * keeping away from my affair, dealing with my sexless marriage * The imaginary problems in my own mind * how I'm going to sleep tonight - struggling with insomnia. * impending kitchen gut renovation

And there you have it.  A snapshot of the Sunday Stress Spectrum.  There is always something to worry about.  And always will be.  That marriage.  That job. That lack of anxiety. That fatal flu. That family.  That future.  That economy.  That temperature.  That sale.  That babysitter. That final exam.  That next phase.  That baby.  That affair.  That imagination.  That sleeplessness.  That renovation.

We worry about big things.  And little things.  On Sundays.  And all days. To worry is to live.  To live is to worry.  On that profound note, I will call it a night.

When Practicality Runs Amok

Mommy Needs A Margarita