I’m not sure what to write right now. I’m sitting on an airplane at Logan international airport, waiting for my plane to depart. It’ll be a quick flight back to New Jersey and I cannot wait to get back home. That’s such a funny thing about traveling, isn’t it? I can enjoy being away, seeing new cities and meeting new people all while simultaneously missing everything back home.

Well, it’s that time of year again: the time when I need to take a sick day, which means you get a reminder that it’s okay for you to take one too.

Just rest. It’s okay.

Last weekend, I found myself sitting in a brewery with an incredible meal and a flight of beer that was one of the best I've had in a long time. The funny thing is that I almost never made it there and it would have been AI's fault; or I guess my fault for even using it in the first place.

A few years ago, I wrote my first book. When people ask about the process, one of the things I always tell them is that I started writing long before I knew what the book was really about. I probably had half of it written before I could clearly explain the topic, define the audience, or organize the ideas into something that resembled a book. I discovered the book by writing it.

I went into Manhattan today to deliver two back-to-back workshops for a client. On the way home, I found myself walking through the city almost missing a picture-perfect fall day because I was power walking through the moment. I had nowhere I needed to be, and yet my default state is to move quickly through whatever I'm doing.

I was reading Dungeon Crawler Carl, Book 2, when Carl was entering the circus battle on Floor 3 (if you know, you know). For everyone that is not currently obsessed with this book series, the important part is that it reminded me of the time Andrew and I went to the Big Apple Circus and became part of one of the clown sketches. Yes, you read that right.

In my hometown, I've spent the past several months watching a new park take shape right across from my favorite coffee shop; what was once a forgotten corner is slowly becoming a place designed for people. Watching that transformation made me think about something I recently came across in a reel about "third spaces." Home is our first space, work is our second, and according to sociologist Ray Oldenburg, a healthy community needs a third space: a place outside of home and work where people can gather, connect, and simply exist alongside one another.

The other day immediately after delivering a virtual workshop, I received a direct message from one of the attendees. In this particular workshop, several technical things had gone wrong and there were many questions that I was answering while trying to hit all the topics. Therefore, when I received this unprompted message telling me how great the session was and how I did a particularly good job juggling questions, I let out a big sigh of relief. Despite being a professional and doing this for years, it still feels good to get some encouragement, and research shows I’m not alone in needing it.

I was today years old when I learned that you could write, send, deliver, and receive a reply to a letter all in the span of a few hours. Andrew has been reading Dracula and was telling me about scenes where characters would write a letter inviting someone to dinner, receive a response, enjoy the meal, and even exchange follow-up correspondence all on the same day. At first, I assumed it was just one of those fictional conveniences that authors use to move the story along but after some research, I learned it was all true.

When I trained for my first half marathon, I started with a Couch to 5K plan. At the beginning, the plan did not ask me to run a mile, jog a mile, or even walk a mile. It told me to move for a certain amount of time. Walk for 30 minutes. That was it.  At first, that felt almost too simple, but there's a reason it works.

I ran a 5K recently, and it was the first one I had run in a while. I have been very consistent with walking, but my running routine had gotten away from me and so I was not exactly sure what to expect when I showed up that morning. I knew I could finish, but I did not know what kind of pace I could hold. 

Earlier this week, I delivered a virtual webinar for a women’s networking group called WIT: originally named for Women in Tech it has broadened its scope to create community and guidance for all women. The session was called Unboxing Your Dreams, and I shared part of my own story, along with three practical exercises to help people move closer to their biggest goals. 

Earlier this week, I listened to a woman give an energetic keynote on AI and analog. She argued that no matter how advanced technology becomes, it should complement the analog parts of our lives rather than replace them. We should still write letters, meet in person, send postcards, and make space for experiences that can't be digitized. All of those things matter, she said, and I couldn't help but agree. As much as I appreciate the convenience of technology, there is still something grounding about stepping away from a screen and putting pen to paper.

I woke up early this morning so I could have a little time awake before heading out to run a 5K. I was still in my bathrobe, sipping black coffee, with the floor-to-ceiling windows behind me overlooking the Raquette River. I love this view from our vacation home. I love the water, the boat, the change of pace, and the quiet that comes from being away from my normal routine. But after chatting with my friend for about 30 minutes, I realized that my favorite part about being up here is not actually the scenery or the time off work. It's moments like this.

Six days before I was supposed to speak at an event in Quebec City, I realized I still had almost no information about it. I had back-to-back events scheduled in Montreal and Quebec City, a hotel reservation I could still cancel, and a growing suspicion that the silence might mean low attendance or, worse, a canceled event. Suddenly, what should have been a simple work trip turned into a decision: cancel the reservation and save the money, or take the chance and go anyway?

I was in the back of a small dark pub in Quebec City cheering for Cabo Verde as they scored against Uruguay. A week earlier, I didn’t even know Cabo Verde was in the World Cup. Yet there I was, completely invested in this underdog story. To be fair, I was not exactly neutral going into this game as I have had a very specific World Cup grudge against Uruguay since 2010, when Luis Suárez…

Today, America turns 250, which means I have been thinking a lot about what it means to celebrate a country you live in, and should love, while also being furious about the direction it is moving. For me, patriotism has never meant pretending America has always gotten it right. It has never meant ignoring slavery, Indigenous dispossession, Jim Crow, voter suppression, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, or the countless ways this country has denied people the very freedoms it claimed to protect. The Declaration of Independence said that “all men are created equal,” but from the beginning, that promise was written more broadly than it was practiced.

I’m working from Hannawa Falls, NY this week, and my “office” is a screened-in porch that looks out over the water. I’m getting so much done, checking things off, moving work forward like I always do but because of what we talked about a few weeks ago with the effects of nature on the brain, I feel more relaxed than I do sitting at my desk at home.  And still, there’s a part of my brain that isn’t satisfied. 

We love a good workplace hero story. The person who stayed late, fixed the issue, and saved the day. The one who logged in on Saturday and made sure everything got done. Those moments get praised, recognized, and sometimes even rewarded. 

But what if those are not the things we should be celebrating? 

I spent most of the day inside today. I went straight from my bed to my office, to the gym, then to the co-working space. But for 15 minutes on my way to and from the gym, I drove through the Watchung Reservation. It seems silly, because I didn’t ever leave my car, but with the windows down and all the trees taking up my view, I swear it made a difference in my day; when I looked it up later, I realized it wasn’t all in my head.