Busy, busy day. It started at 4:45 a.m., and at 8:00 p.m., I’m nowhere near finished with my day. Add that to the fact that I’m about to start the Bar Review course so I can take the Florida bar exam in February. That’s five hours in each day that I’ll need to find between next week and the end of February.

Now read this next part in a 1960’s housewife-on-a-tv-commercial voice.

That’s why I’m thankful for NavierA Cuban Coffee. I can’t wait to brew my first cup as soon as my eyes open in the morning, and when I start to get tired and grumpy in the afternoon, a little NavierA over ice makes me feel nice.

I wish I were kidding, but I’m not. I even take it with me when I travel. Yummmmmmm.

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Nash Equilibrium


When I was a kid, my sister and cousins would all trick-or-treat together. The highlight of Halloween was not the costumes or even the candy. It was The Candy Swap afterwards. We dumped our pillowcases onto my parents’ burnt orange living room carpet and went to work. I freely admit that as the oldest, I had a certain negotiating advantage. However, I like to think that every October 31st of my childhood was spent sharpening the negotiating skills I now use in the office of Don King Productions.

“What do you mean you won’t trade your full size Snickers for Sixlets?” I’d ask my little cousin. “You can buy a Snickers all year ’round! Sixlets are only around at Halloween!”

My kids have continued The Candy Swap tradition, and this year was a particularly sticky one. Even though the kiddos had trick-or-treated together, The Boy garnered significantly more loot than The Girl. It’s not hard to figure out why the inhabitants of our neighborhood dumped twice the amount of candy into The Boy’s bag. First, he’s at a particularly adorable stage of growth and was dressed as a Marshmallow. Second, at each door, he zeroed in on the homeowner with the kind of focus only a spectrum kid can have.

“Awesome candy,” he’d say, peering into a basket. Or, “Did you have those orange lights in your oak tree last year?”

So The Boy went into the negotiations holding more cards. However, even though the The Girl’s “I’m getting kinda old for this so let me just throw on an army jacket” costume didn’t score her nearly the amount of candy her brother got, as a super-mature 12 year old, she possesses quite the negotiating advantage over her naive brother.

That’s why I was more than a little stressed about serving as mediator this year. The Man and I gave each other nervous glances as the kiddos emptied their bags and started sorting their candy. The Boy eyed his sister somewhat suspiciously as she took in his enormous pile sugary goodness. I was just bracing for disaster when The Man stepped to the table. He started sorting the candy according to type with each type having a point value. The Boy, naturally, would have more points to “spend.”. After all, he had put forth the greater Halloween effort. The Girl, on the other hand, was allowed to exercise her strength in suggesting ridiculously low point values for the candy she liked best. The system was beautiful, and, more importantly, there was hardly any bickering and nothing but forward progress! The whole thing was over pretty quick and without a single tear.

Later that night, I complimented The Man for the way he prevented The Candy Swap from becoming The Candy War. He shrugged one shoulder and said “I just pushed them towards a Nash Equilibrium. If The Boy recognized The Girl’s position and she recognized his, there was no need for argument. They stuck to their strengths and went with it.”

So today, I’m thankful for The Man, who uses economic game theory with our kiddos. (And I’m a little bit thankful to John Nash, too.)

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In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I’m planning to blog about something for which I’m thankful each day of November. I know, I know. It’s already the third day of the month. However, I was unable to answer the flurry for the first two days. It’s also worth noting that these blessings o’ mine are in no particular order. If they were, I’d start with the kiddos, but to be honest they just haven’t been that interesting in the last day or so.

Today I’m thankful for all the free wifi in the good old U. S. of A. I’m posting this from the waiting room of a doc in the box. The Girl has an earache, and being the hyper vigilant mother that I am, I rushed her straight to the doctor after her swim meet. Hmmmmmm . . . earache, swim meet . . . Yeah. She has swimmer’s ear. And I know I could have prevented it if I would have been more vigilant about putting alcohol in her ear each night. And yes I made her swim even though she was complaining about her ear this morning. But she did PR every event she swam and she’s gonna have antibiotic drops within the hour. (I’m practicing my defense before the doctor calls us back.)

But back to being thankful. As I pulled out my iPad in the waiting room, I saw that there was doc in the box guest Internet, and I was reminded of the lack of free wifi when I was in Australia in July. So there it is. I’m thankful for our abundantly free wifi.

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The Paper Calendar, In Memoriam

I have a December birthday, and in the days before smartphones my favorite birthday gift was always a new calendar. My grandparents always give me money for my birthday and I as soon as I had it in my hot little hands, I would head straight to the office supply store. I always chose a week at a glance, but not before considering the possibility that the upcoming year would be so filled with action that I might need a day-at-a-glance! A new calendar represented a fresh start and endless possibilities.

With all due respect to the Steve Jobs (R.I.P.) and the Research In Motion folks, I miss my paper calendar this time of year. I know, I know. I can fit my calendar and the entire internet in my hoodie pocket, and sync my schedule with my husbands with the click of a button. But where’s my fresh start? My annual yearly committment to perfect organization? Hmmm . . . maybe I should check the App Store.

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On A Good Day

Make her miss and make her pay

When something captures my interest, I really like to give it my full attention.  Lots of women try a boxing or kick-boxing class to get in shape.  That’s how I started.  But I kept peering around to the other side of the gym.  The side with the ring.  The side filled with young men hitting each other.  I was a mother of two with a law degree, and I’d never hit anyone in my entire life, but I just had to try it.  I had to get into that ring.
So I trained. I ran for miles.  I jumped rope for hours.  I pounded the mitts and sparred with the boys.  And after months of training, I boxed.  I’m sure I’m the only mom in car line who can boast an amateur boxing record of 1-0.  More importantly, however, I can tell my boxers I know what it’s like to sweat to make weight.  I know what it’s like to shake off the soreness and spar with a black eye.  I know what it’s like to stand alone in the corner before the bell rings in that calm before the storm. 
Jackie Kallen is my heroine in the boxing management world.  Her facebook page adorably reads “Meg Ryan played me in a movie.”  She has a million more connections than I do, and years more experience.  But she’s never been punched in the face.  And she’ll never know that sublime satisfaction of slipping a punch while landing your own solidly in your opponents face.  And this is why I can go toe-to-toe with her to get my boxers on Friday Night Fights. 
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Just Thought I’d Share . . .

Sometimes I feel like a boxer backing into the ropes amidst a flurry of punches.  On my good days, I can slip to the side and counter, unleashing my own blinding combinations.  Other days I do well to just cover up.  However, even on my worst days there’s no way I’d step out of the ring.  My fun, fantastic and fulfilling life is so much better than one sitting ringside.

So  by now I’ve completely worn out the metaphor.  You’ll have to forgive me, though.  I have a “jobby” managing professional boxers.  It’s a jobby because although I work it like a job, the money is much more like a hobby.  I love it though.  There’s nothing quite like the thrill of hearing your boxer’s ring music, walking him to the ring, and then watching him beat his opponent  into submission.  I admit, it’s not what most people would have guessed this former “captain of the cheerleaders” would end up doing.  Or maybe it is.

When I’m not arguing with promoters or trying to keep my boxers on the right path, I’m your normal, average, stay-at-home mom.  I’m married to the sexiest attorney/artist in the entire world who is just bi-polar enough (or perhaps just medicated enough) to make life interesting.  The Man and I have two shorties.  The Boy is on the high functioning end of the autistic spectrum, and is generous enough to share his completely unique world view with us.  As for The Girl, it’s like God said, “The Woman’s life is going to be a bit crazy, so let’s give her a really easy, absolutely angelic daughter.”  Or at least that’s what I thought before The Girl started to hit puberty . . .

I hope you enjoy reading.  And if you think you recognize yourself, I love you and please don’t be offended.  Mwuah!!!

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