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I inadvertently and totally unintentionally insulted a colleague today (no really, I did, though I still think he took it in a way I didn’t intend – story of my life).

But more important, I was reminded that I still hadn’t posted here about my therapy session with Bob.

If you’ve been reading me for a while, you probably shouldn’t be surprised that I’ve had some therapy over the years. No really!

Personally and in my opinion, I think if you haven’t ever had some therapy you probably really need it and someone’s too scared to tell you.

Overall, it’s been a great investment. Like everyone’s investments it’s depreciated a bit lately, but overall it’s been enlightening.

So imagine my amazement when I found out I could have a free session in Chicago with my all-time favorite one-time psychologist, Dr. Bob.

It’s weird, because I’ve known him almost forever but we’ve never met. I’ve loved and have respected him for years.

I could never have imagined I’d get to see him, lay/lie on his couch and have a session. It’s kind of like getting to have a session with Dr. Freud if I’d lived in the 19th century and spoke German better.

So the last time I was in Chicago, my friend S. and I fought our way through the Windy City winds to get to his plein-air office. It was a brief session, and even though S. got just one usable photo of me I’m pleased the moment was captured.

(She also inadvertantly also videoed the session with my cell phone, but would you put your therapy session on your blog?! I don’t think so…)

But I am willing to post the photo, because it was a dream come true I want to share:

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I don’t know how my friend S. feels about this, though, so I’m using my extensive Picasa skills to anonymize her:

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It’s nice when a dream comes true.

Sometimes I just don’t know when to quit. I get wrapped up in something I’m curious about and I lose all sense of perspective, time, common sense – whether what I’m obsessing over doing could be done differently, better, faster, stronger, not done at all, or if the real answer is actually right in front of me <see this for a lesson I thought I’d learned already>.

I am like a dog with a bone and won’t, no I can’t give up on it.

Take last night: I spent 1/2 hour effing with my phone’s memory card because the adapter slot couldn’t read it. Duh – that’s what the data cable that came with the phone is for.

Then I downloaded the photos onto my lappy, and proactively (for a change) deleted them from my memory card.

I spent another <who knows how long because I was in the dog bone/geek zone> amount of time “organizing” my photos.

<And then I decided to clean out that sticky ctrl key, which resulted in a blog entry, Are You Retentive?>

All was well until I shut down for the night and realized “hey, I didn’t see my Chicago photos.” Reet reet reet!!! Boot up.

But no, turns out that when deleted some “excess photos” I – oops – deleted some real ones, ones I wouldn’t have a backup for, ones I’d wanted for months (photos of me with Bob in Chicago – entry coming soon, but I’ve had the “Me with Bob” photo idea on my “non-existent but would be great if I ever did it life list” for about a year).

My Bob photos captured a moment in time that I’d looked forward to and enjoyed. (Wait til you see the photos – talk about cheap thrills) But no, I’d deleted the effing images off my phone memory card without a backup. MAN I hate when that happens. It seldom happens that I don’t have a backup, but it does happen. Clearly.

Anyway, the point (if you haven’t gotten it yet) is: I had deleted photos of Bob and me.

So then I was just sad. I’d really cherished this interaction with Bob and was so excited to have photos from it. But I didn’t have ’em anymore.

I remembered I recovered some photos successfully a few years ago with Art Plus Digital Photo Recovery software. But it was really late so I just downloaded the most recent version and decided (finally!) to cut my losses.

Actually I was just worried I’d screw it up more if I kept messing with it, but I finally gave in and went to bed.

Good news though – I recovered 123 photos from my memory card and (most importantly) my BOB photos!!!

I took a brief trip recently. It was too late to call it a “Winter vacation” so we’ll call it “Spring Break.” And you know I love my annual Winter (this year, Spring) vacation. I have to be around the water…

(As always, click on the images to expand. They are beautiful! And you see so much detail.)

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There were bright, beautiful, tropical fish…Even the green thing below is a fish (or something—please don’t correct me—I don’t care. I’m an art historian, not a biologist).

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Now there were a few things missing, namely the outdoors, the beach and the sun. But there were plenty of chairs, which are usually in short supply near the water:

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Yeah, good times. Good times…

You know how when you travel now, and you get all discombobulated by the time you’ve taken off your shoes, belt, jacket, put your quart bag of no – more – than – 3 – ounce – items out, opened your laptop, put it all on the conveyor belt while you’re forced to wait behind the magic gate and hope nothing gets stolen / mistakenly taken?

The Milwaukee airport has taken matters into its own hands: click here

Like I said, it’s almost enough to make you want to go to Milwaukee…

(got it from Consumerist.com)

Unless you’re a sociopath you probably have something you regret. I only have a few regrets so far, so I guess that’s good (or else I’m a sociopath).

My “regrets” are usually along the line of “I regret I had to experience that pain” or “I regret I didn’t learn this lesson the last time I thought I learned it.” Those aren’t really regrets, though.

Those are more like “This really sucks and I wish I didn’t have to go through it” events, but that doesn’t mean I’ve regretted the experience that led to the “this really sucks” moment. Actually, sometimes what leads to the “this really sucks” moment isn’t even within your control anyway, like when someone dies.

ANYWAY, my point wasn’t to discuss regrets. In fact, my point is to talk about non-regrets.

Can I be both shallow and deep for a few minutes? Sure, I could continue discussing my weighty topics of late (IHopeYouGetAKidneyStone…) but I am nothing if not versatile, so now I want to discuss a couple of personal non-regrets.

One non-regret was borrowing money to redo my kitchen. How many people have you heard say they “wish they had done it sooner” <whatever “it” is>? By that time, they’re usually moving or dying.

Of course, when you have gold & white tile, paneling, and pink and gray laminate flooring, one could argue I had to do it. Someday “when I have time” (HA!) I’ll dig up an old pre-hab photo and scan it, but just hearing the colors oughta give you a clue…

Now I have a dishwasher-ette, nice cabinets, more storage, a tilt-out sponge holder (little things matter in a small space) and (my favorite) a set of drawers with a hidden pull-out cutting board. And I love my rounded counter corners. They’ve saved me many bruises, pokes and curses.

 

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The only 1/2-way decent photo I could find without a lot of work

 

Another non-regret is buying my diamond ring. I started saving for it because 1. I love diamonds 2. I was having major crisis at the prospect of turning 40 and decided this might help me get through it easier (yeah I know, drowning my sorrows in material goods, but what can I say? I think the process of getting it helped). 3. I wasn’t sure I was gonna get a diamond ring the “usual” way (good thing I didn’t wait for THAT to happen!) and 4. I derived so much pleasure from my kitchen that I was glad I didn’t wait for the “right time” to do it.

My “OMG* I’m Turning 40” crisis actually began about 2 1/2 years before I turned 40. It literally ended the morning of my 40th birthday. Which was on a beach in Mexico, so I guess it’s hard to feel bad in that situation anyway, but the crisis was just over.

I can’t really explain why the crisis occurred and why its conclusion was so anti-climactic, but I got through it. I also got a diamond ring and a brief thing with a jeweler I met while shopping doing research.

Brief aside: I have to claim inventing the whole “right hand diamond ring” thing. They started marketing it about a year after I bought my ring, which I wear on my right hand, but there was nobody doing it until then. I guess that’s a regret—that I didn’t trademark or patent that idea.

And it’s not like I love diamonds so much that I keep buying them. I haven’t gotten a necklace or earrings because I wouldn’t be able to see them, and I like to see my diamonds sparkle.

Sometimes I feel shallow for enjoying this “thing” so much, when (other than my gadget-coveting-though-usually-not-buying) I try to follow the William Morris tenet about having only things that are useful or beautiful.

What can I say? I don’t regret it and still derive great pleasure when I see it sparkle in the sunlight on my stubby finger. It was money well-spent.

*Omar, Sarah: “Oh My God”

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Brett, as a special demonstration of appreciation for you being one of my estimated 6-7 regular readers, I want to single you out specifically to let you know I was so hellbent on getting outta there today that I didn’t tell you goodbye.

See you soon! Remember to pray to the sun gods for me. Bob will probably be too busy to talk much for the next week, since he’ll be doing real (i.e.-my) work.

Don’t worry though; it’ll be good for him. If things get bad, an infusion of chocolate from Robert will fix him right up.

Stay warm, work hard, have fun with your girls, and see you soon. M.

Here’s where I’ll be if you need to reach me:

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