The Emperor of Euphony

Last Friday, Sophia participated in her school spelling bee. The top two spellers in each third, fourth and fifth grade class were invited to participate in the competition that crowns the top speller from each school, presumably to be anointed as the Head Honcho of Homonyms, the Emperor of Euphony, the Overlord of Orthography.

The champion goes on to district, then state, then all the way to Washington, D.C., for the Scripps National Spelling Bee. You know the one, where a bunch of awkward, anxious elementary schoolers fidget and obsess and recite calming mantras before the immense pressure to spell synecdoche and pusillanimous and spondylitis. And then we get to watch them cry when they say "i" instead of "e" or commit some other egregious spelling mishap in front of thousands, maybe more.

Sophia Beeing cool

I went in late to work so I could witness my 8-year-old's certain victory in the contest pitting her against the rest of the mere mortals with mussed up hair, ketchup-stained shirts and untied shoelaces that attend her school. "This is in the bag," I said to myself. I am, after all, a speller of considerable noteworthiness. And we practiced. Hard. Like, 10 minutes a day over breakfast, with the Sugarhill Gang channel blasting on Pandora, and in between sick dance moves across the kitchen floor. (Me, not her.)

Sophia breezes through the first two rounds with patio and sitcom. She's on a roll, strutting to the mike like a gangsta with sagging pants and spitting letters (in the correct order, suckaz!) like Eminem in a rap battle. Quite a few of the 24 competitors go out in the first two rounds, and I truly feel bad for them. I mean, those words were, like, so easy to spell. Maybe they should have studied more.

After the first round, Mr. Lynch, the fifth grade teacher and emcee looks at Sophia, resplendent in her purple leggings and fluorescent yellow sweater that screams, Look at me, losers, I'm all that and a bag of chizz-aps! He wipes his brow and says, "Man, I am getting nervous!" He looks at Sophia and says, "Kensley, you nervous?" And my kid, arm resting on the table next to her like Don Corleone after a successful hit, smiles and says, "Nope."

She is John Elway on The Drive. Pre-fire hydrant Tiger Woods on the 18th tee on Sunday at Augusta.

No pressure

Third round, less than half the kids remaining. You could cut the tension with a plastic butter knife from the school lunch room.

Your word is "Knead." This word is a homonym, it is a verb, and its definition is to work or mix something using the hands.

We practiced this one, I remember, over eggs and toast, Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock in the background. My palms and feet are sweaty. I hear my heart beating inside my ears. You got this, kid. K. K. Remember the K.

"N-E-I-D."

Shit. Shit. Shit. Nooooo!!!!! Damn that friggin K!!!

That is incorrect.

I breathe for the first time in a few seconds. Sophia lopes back to her seat, removes the number from around her neck and sits calmly through the rest of the affair. I watch for signs of disappointment, maybe some nerves, shame, embarrassment, trembling, tears, fear of reprisal, severe depression.... But there's nothing. That's because she's a cold-blooded competitor, the Black Mamba of the miniature circuit, ready to learn from failure and train harder—HARDER!!!—to become the greatest speller of all time. You can bet I'll be taking a page from the Tiger Mom and Tiger Woods' dad and setting some serious guidelines for the next few years. No playtime, no sports, no vacations. Just spelling all day and night. Winning is all that matters now.

Later Sophia tells me she was proud to have made it into the competition at all. I tell her second place is the first loser. (No, I didn't...but I could have.)

As a bit of consolation, our neighbor, Lily, and one of Sophia's best friends, won it on "meager." At least the trophy lives on our street.

We'll be making bread everyday for the next week as a punishment.

Ewe Goh Gurl!!!

Theatrics

Over the past month, Ella and Sophia took their first foray into show business. Along with their three neighbor friends from down the street, Lilly, Lucy and Sally, they wrote, directed, produced, and starred in their first play. Yup, a real, live, actual play, complete with scene changes, sound effects, costumes, props, songs, and even audience participation. The show, called SWANG (the main character's name was Celia, but her nickname was Swang, because of her love for swang dancing), had two performances, put on at the park behind our house. I'm not sure they got an entertainment permit from the City of Fort Collins, but, whatever.

The Promo flier

Every day after school and on most of their free weekend days, the five girls collaborated on putting together the performance. They posted fliers around the neighborhood mailboxes and told everyone they knew about it. They charged admission (parents of the performers were, graciously, allowed in free) and a small fee for other items, and each of my kids ended up making $7.50 each.

The first show began at 4:30 pm on Saturday, November 8, and the second one was scheduled for the same time on November 9 but the producers smartly moved it to 3:00 to avoid the twin plagues of darkness and cold. The production team, however, was prepared: they provided chairs, blankets, flashlights and snacks. The kids ate most of the food, chips, fruit punch and mints—purchased with their own money at the dollar store—but there was plenty for everyone.

In addition to Tanya and me and the neighbor girls' parents, a few other neighbors and friends came to the performance, having seen the signs and heard the chatter within the local arts scene (aka, our street). Even a high school junior who lives four houses down came by for the second showing. Tanya's mom attended on Sunday, and stayed for the post-production party in our kitchen, which got a tad rowdy. To my knowledge, nobody arranged for bottle service, got drunk on Cristal or tweeted racy photos. And I have no idea if TMZ was hiding in our pantry.

Had there been media there, I'm sure this would be a likely sampler their reviews:

"A five-star performance! I wanted to SWANG from the rafters!" —the Fort Collins Coloradoan.

"A breathtaking, wonderful and heartwarming debut performance! I laughed, cried...and shivered." —the Denver Post.

"Jump up and applaud for SWANG! Bravo!" —the Colorado Spring Gazette.

SWANG was part musical, part comedy, and part tragedy. Ella described it as, "An Adventure in Magical-ness," which seemed about right. The actors were both serious and improvisational, and when they messed up their lines, they didn't panic. They were, at times, hilarious, especially when they didn't mean to be. Each of the five actors had significant roles, including "backstage" jobs. I was also particularly impressed with the singing voices (especially Lucy's) in addition to a distinct lack of fear in the spotlight from all five of the players.

As one would expect of 5- to 11-year-olds, the plot was a bit hard to follow at times (something about fairies in the woods, dancing and a lurking evil something-or-other). But that really wasn't important. What impressed me most was the organization and dedication it took to make the show happen. They devoted themselves to a creative task and saw it through to completion. Each one of them branched out, put aside fear of embarrassment or failure, and surely discovered something about themselves they never knew, while having a lot of fun doing it.

That alone deserves rave reviews.

What's the Problem?

I've entered a new phase of my writing life.

It's called relaxing. I just wish I was good at it.

Since May 30, 2014, when I self-published my first novel, Seeking Blue (as always, available on Amazon.com and other local booksellers), things have changed. I'm still writing articles for UCHealth and Mind+Body, and I've contributed another essay to Fort Collins Magazine, keeping my second career very much active. I'm continuing to learn about journalism and writing, meeting new and interesting people, and making a few extra bucks in the process.

I also received my first not-so-fantastic review on Amazon the other day. Granted, I sought it out and appreciate the reviewer's honesty, but I've been reminded that literature is subjective, and that humility is necessary for all artists.

I've had a book launch party, done a couple of readings, stocked Seeking Blue in the bookstore at our family vacation spot, Star Island in New Hampshire, and had a book signing at an indie bookshop here in Fort Collins. I've sold 35 hard copies (so far) between those two shops, which, I'm told, is pretty good for an unknown self-published author in the first four months of publication. In fact, the woman at Old Firehouse Books in Fort Collins told me that my "local author" book signing was the most successful they've had this year.

I sold 7 copies that day. Essentially all of those copies have sold because of specific efforts to market and promote my novel using word of mouth, posting fliers and sending emails. Basically, bugging the heck out of people.

I've also scheduled three separate talks about writing within the Fort Collins community, at independent living and senior-type facilities. This makes me happy because I get to combine two of my passions: writing and hanging out with older folks. All while helping to promote the brand that is Andrew Kensley, Author.

Things are going well. I work three days a week at a job that I enjoy and that pays the bills; I get to work a second job that I love doing and helps pay more bills and also thickens the "Vegas" envelope, all while still having time to do house projects, spend a lot of time with my family, exercise, and get some much needed time in the mountains.

So what is the problem?

Exactly. There isn't one. I've decided that instead of getting upset about slow sales, worrying about whether Seeking Blue will ever hit the big time and what my next book will be, taxing endless self-promotion, and spending every waking minute trying to figure out how to sell more books and get an agent and a publisher and hit the big time, I'm going to take a mental break and just enjoy what I've accomplished.

I deserve it.

Ice Bucket Challenge

I got challenged on that subtle social media site—you may have heard of it, it's called something like The Book of Faces—by my friend from Plymouth, MA, Jeff Pickel to perform the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. As luck would have it, Ella and Sophia have been planning on introducing me to the Jack Dawson school of frigidity for some time now and tonight, after dinner, I noticed them not-so-stealthily filling a bucket with ice and water on the deck and acting suspicious. Having been nominated just two days ago, (and to cushion the inevitable surprise blow that probably awaited anyway), I volunteered myself for the deed.

In keeping with the program, I nominated four other friends who may or may not have already done it.

Mark Lonergan
Dafyd Jones
David Itzkovits
Eric Kligman

Tomorrow, I'll be donating some cash to help cure this terrible disease. I've worked firsthand with patients suffering from it at various stages. And let me tell you, it's not pretty. ALS can strike anyone, and most people die within five years. I hope that we can get together as a population to do more fundraising of this nature for every disease that's out there. If everyone gave $10 to 5 different charities, the world would surely be a better place.

To paraphrase one of my favorite sayings: No one ever got poor by giving to charity. Go to www.alsa.org to give or get informed.

Website up and Running!

I've taken another positive step toward respectability in the modern world.

And it's about damn time.

Today, I finished setting up the website devoted to my writing career. Andrewkensley.com is up and running and ready to be browsed, linked, perused, publicized, searched, and shared. It took me a few days to figure out how to set one up from scratch. And much like my book self-publishing experience on Createspace, I went through quite a bit of a trial and error process getting things done. But I understand it's part of the deal, and I'm fine with it.

Those who know me well might say I'm a bit on the cheap side. Not untrue, I admit, but I actually entered into this little endeavor with the realization that I would have to pay to do this right. This year has been educational as far as the publishing world goes, and one important thing I've learned is that running a business—make no mistake, Andrew Kensley, Author/Freelance Writer is a business, albeit a crude and immature one thus far—requires a financial investment.

Since I started doing my own taxes a few years ago and with the gradual increase in writing income over the past couple of years, I've already begun saying fun things like "I'll get the check, it's a write-off" and "we talked about my book over those beers, burgers and onion rings and during commercials of the game, I can write off this guys night." But this is different: the prime reason for spending money on publicity, advertising, promotion and marketing is not for tax purposes. My goal is to sell some books. If I have to spend a reasonable sum to do that, I'm fine with it.

Consequently, my first internet searches on "how to build a website" involved clicking ONLY on the ones that required a monthly or yearly fee. I spent almost 10 hours setting up trials and familiarizing myself with the cool terminology—favicon, SEO, keyword density and meta tags are some of my favorites—and after much eye-burning screen time, I realized that none of the really cool looking website builders really had what I wanted. So I went another route.

I stumbled upon Wix.com, advertised as a free website builder, and found exactly the template I wanted. I tweaked it considerably over a few days, changing fonts and moving text, inserting photos and aligning icons, etc etc etc, and after a couple of minor paid upgrades (still cheaper than the other sites, but perfect for my purposes), I built Andrewkensley.com to my exact specifications.

Check it out and let me know what you think. And of course, thanks in advance for spreading the word.

Seeking Blue Publicity

Seeking Blue has launched with some success and now comes the hard part: marketing and promotion. I've been busy on social media, encouraging reviews and discussions on Goodreads and Amazon, crafting a press release and scheduling book signings to continue to get the word out about my novel.

Seeking Blue Cover

Here are my head shot and bio, which can be used for publicity purposes. (Feel free to copy and paste this or any photos from this site when you share.)

Andrew Kensley, Author

Andrew Kensley writes about wellness and healthcare for Mind & Body Magazine and the University of Colorado Health Insider.

His parenting column, Wee Wisdom, appeared every other week from 2009 to 2013 in the Fort Collins Coloradoan, during which time he also wrote travel content and features.

Andrew is a contributor to Fort Collins Magazine, his short fiction has appeared in the Owen Wister Review, and his work has also been featured in the family travel website, Momaboard.com.

When he's not writing, husband-ing, parenting or otherwise enjoying himself in the beautiful Colorado outdoors, Andrew works full time as a physical therapist, a career which he has thoroughly enjoyed for 18 years. A native of Montreal, Canada, he now happily resides in Fort Collins, Colorado, with his wife and two daughters, with no plans to leave anytime soon.

Seeking Blue is his first novel.

I still think that because of the subjective nature of literature, word of mouth is the best form of advertising. But that doesn't preclude moving forward aggressively with getting the word out. The key is disseminating information to people who don't know me and have never heard of me, and therefore wouldn't search for my work in the first place. My large circle of friends and family have helped tremendously, and I am so appreciative of all the support. But I need more.

And here's a link to the book signing event at Old Firehouse Books in Old Town Fort Collins on August 23:

https://plus.google.com/events/cr3b5vpfknmh12vcaols6tanneg

SEEKING BLUE...PUBLISHED!!!!!

Okay, the all caps title should tell you what you need to know: Today I officially published my first novel, Seeking Blue. It is available for purchase on Kindle, and will be available in print within a couple of days. (I'll let you know when that happens.)  Here's the link:

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Ddigital-text&field-keywords=seeking+blue+andrew+kensley


By the way, if you have an Apple device, you can download the free Kindle for Mac app and read on your iOS device, (iPad, iPhone, Mac).

Hitting the enter button to publish

Pardon me for a moment...

...YAAAAHHOOOOOO!!!

Ahem, now that I've got that out of my system...well...there's not much else. I finally did it, and I'm damn proud. And you all should be too, for waiting patiently all these years.

After nearly 12 years of writing and editing and revising and revising and revising and revising, and several weeks of tedious formatting and re-indenting paragraphs and removing hard returns and adding page breaks (I still have no idea what those are), and learning by trial and error (mostly error) about how to turn a Word document into a Kindle-ready document, Seeking Blue is up and running on Amazon.com for purchase. I'm still waiting for my Proof print copy to arrive in the mail. As soon as it hits my mailbox, I'll flip through it and give it the go for publishing and send it out to the world of actual books.

Of course, I would be thrilled if you all bought a copy and told everyone you know to check it out as well. With self-publishing, the author has to do all the marketing him or herself, so if I want to sell this thing, I have to make it happen myself.

With your help.

I know that literature is subjective and not everyone is going to like Seeking Blue, and I'm okay with that. I would love it, regardless of whether you loved it or hated it, if you'd take 5 minutes (or less) to write a review on Amazon.com when you're done reading it. Whether you give it 1 star or 5 stars doesn't matter to me, honestly. The more reviews a book receives, the higher it will eventually populate on searches, thereby making it more visible to people who don't know me but are looking for something to read. So thank you in advance.

Please forward this blog post to everyone you know, especially those in book clubs everywhere. And give them my email address: I would love to provide a list of questions and topics, and if it's reasonable, be happy to discuss Seeking Blue in person with my readers.




I'm still amazed at all the love and support I've gotten from friends and family during this journey. Writing a book is hard and takes a long time, and can be challenging and insanely frustrating, but in the grand scheme of things, it's no more daunting than any other labor of love. With a boatload of persistence and patience, and support from those around you, anything is possible, and that is not by any means hyperbole.

I dedicated Seeking Blue to my daughters, Ella and Sophia. When I showed them the dedication page, I'm not ashamed to say I cried. Partly because this is an emotional experience for me, but also because of their reactions. I honestly didn't think it would mean that much to them, but, as has happened many times in my 11 years of parenting, I was wrong. Sophia jumped into my arms and thanked me repeatedly. Ella, as is her mien, calmly tiptoed over from the other side of the dining room table and hugged me. With Tanya watching quietly from across the table, the tears of joy and pride building in my eyes, and my two precious girls squeezing me like only children can, I realized that if I never sold one copy of this animal that has occupied my nights, days, lunch hours, and every possible time in between, I'd still consider this experience to be successful.

The true take home message of my adventure with Seeking Blue, and one I hope to impart to everyone I can possible reach, is that there is nothing more satisfying and empowering than following your dream. And while the message in the dedication was directed to my girls, the message applies to everyone. Here's your first sneak preview:

The world is what you make of it.

Make it good.

Seek your blue.

Seeking Blue: The Next Step

Many of you already know I've written a novel, Seeking Blue. It will be released into the world shortly, though I don't have an exact date yet. Consider this my first official pre-release promotion.

I finished it last March, and apart from last minute edits, revisions and other relatively minor fixer-upper issues, I'm just about ready to put this thing on the market and see what happens. After spending about a year trying to get an agent to bite (I've had a few small ones and one big one), I've decided to self-publish. Because self-publishing inherently lacks the built-in marketing and promotional power of traditional publishers, I have to get creative in getting the word out. This is where you all come in.

I will now tease you with some plot points, in hopes you'll not only buy Seeking Blue (or #seekingblue, for all you twitter-ers, tweeters and twitto-philes) when it's available, but also that you'll tell every one of your book-loving friends and family members to do the same. Also, share my Facebook and Twitter page links with everyone you know who likes to read. And even those who don't, what the hell.

Or at least write a good review on Amazon.com.

And ask your local bookstore to stock it.

And tell your mother.

And all your real and virtual friends, acquaintances and coworkers who live far away from you.

Here's the jacket cover summary, or what you'll see on the back of the book if you were perusing the aisles of your local bookstore. (The one you're going to beg to stock it, remember?) 

Jack Wasserman, an irascible 53-year-old pharmacist, is resigned to living out his days alone and unwilling to confront his painful past. But when he receives a surprise letter from Noah, the son he gave up two decades earlier, Jack finally takes the necessary steps toward fulfilling his overdue role as a father. On his voyage across oceans, cultures and generations, Jack’s path—equal parts trying, amusing, and cathartic—intersects with those of his fading son and the wife and mother once thought dead, as all three learn valuable lessons about forgiveness and new beginnings.

Pretty good, right?

More hints: the story takes place in Montreal, Australia, and the South Pacific, all places I've personally been. Oooohhhh.....

It took me upwards of ten years to pen this fabulous work of fiction. This includes the directionless task of banging out a first draft—basically a piece of crap that resembled the early remnants of the Big Bang, a shapeless tangle of words with no purpose other than to elicit chaos—in addition to countless hours of trying to improve it. In 2005 I met a woman named Sue at a writer's conference who introduced me to a group of others who basically showed me that my writing was nothing short of...shit. Sue and the writer's group members have continued to be great friends and of immeasurable help in helping me become a better writer. And be patient.

Slowly, and with tons of feedback and critique, including from Tanya's book club, the only ones besides my writers group that have read Seeking Blue in its entirety (okay, full disclosure: my sister and brother in law have also read it), my baby sauntered along through various iterations of plot changes, character developments and redevelopments, grammar improvements, tense and point-of-view modifications, scene enhancements, deletions and additions, etc, etc. I did these over lunch hours, nights, weekends, and any other >5 minute time span I could find. While working and being a husband and father.

This is not a veiled attempt to fish for compliments or "it-couldn't-have-been-that-bad" type of comments on your part. No, I will say with absolute certainty and an utter clarity of mind that until a few years ago, I had no discernible writing skill. To say that as recently as 2009, I would never publish anything in my life, would have been entirely reasonable.

The point is, I persevered because I loved creating characters and situations and baring my soul through them, and expressing myself via the page. I read more, wrote more, worked on the craft (continue to do so; its a lifelong endeavor), sought out people who could help me, critiqued others' work and suffered through my own being absolutely torn to shreds (no exaggeration). I'm by no means Hemingway or Steinbeck, but I finally can admit—with confidence, not conceit—that I am pretty good.

More to come...

The Spa Party

Every now and then, a father must take a stand. He must sacrifice himself for the common good, and do the right thing for his family, regardless of established convention. He must offer up his services so that his seed can move forward in their march toward responsible adulthood.

My time came on Saturday, March 1, 2014. And while I'm no stranger to raising daughters (almost 11 years of experience and counting), this particular event may end up being a turning point in my life.

Just ask the girls who painted my toes.

Sophia turned eight on February 27. For the big celebration, Tanya organized a spa party for Sophia and her friends. Tanya created an organic banana facial cream as well as a brown sugar foot scrub. They set up finger and toe nail painting stations and warm foot baths. The girls wore their bathing suits under bathrobes, pranced around the house in slippers, sipped soda in champagne glasses with strawberries on the rim, all while Enya played soothingly in the background. This was as close to a real spa as we'll ever get in our basement.

The Spa Girls

I was ready to help with the party. I was envisioning hanging out with the girls in the basement, maybe fetching a drink or getting one of the warm foot baths filled up, helping cook dinner. This was, after all, a girls party. I'm just Dad. What do I know about this stuff?

"Natalie" and "Sally" and Zebulon's pre-pedicure feet

I got home from work, changed, and headed down to the basement to revel in the contagious giggles of elementary school girls. I sat on the couch next to one of the kids who was casually flipping through a magazine. Then Tanya says, "You're in charge of foot scrubs."

Uh, excuse me?

"They soak their feet in the warm foot massage bath, then you dry them off and rub the brown sugar scrub on there."

I stared.

Rachel at the spa

"It exfoliates. Then you rinse it off in the bath and put moisturizer cream on their legs."

"Oh. So that's my job?"

"Yup. You wanted to help, right?"

For all you non-husbands out there, the correct answer is always "Yes."

I got to work.

At first I was feeling some combination of embarrassed, mortified, humbled and emasculated. But I played along because, well, I had to. Remember my first paragraph.

They all had picked fake names: Tanya was Maria, Sophia was Natalie, Ella was Diva. So I dug deep and decided my name would be Zebulon. And I actually had fun once I allowed myself to. The foot scrub thing wasn't too bad, and the girls got a kick out of it. The party went as 8-year-old-girl-sleepover-birthday parties usually go: laughing, screaming, being silly, eating, making a mess, a few crying spells, a couple of arguments, some hurt feelings, making up, taking a kid home at 11:00 because she couldn't sleep, and the same stuff all over again the following morning.

And I got that pedicure I needed, just in time for our spring break Cabo vacation.

Zebulon's Awesome Toes: Beach Ready

Conversations With Siri

Any chance Sophia gets, she grabs my iPhone and tries to have a conversation with Siri, the "voice" that pops up when you hold down the home button. It was cute at first, but now it annoys the hell out of me.

Let's explore, shall we?

Grasping the nuances of computers and electronic devices, like playing the clarinet or knitting or snapping a football to your Hall of Fame quarterback on the first play of the Super Bowl, takes practice. Most kids nowadays are simply exposed to the stuff at an early enough age where brain development is flourishing, so that managing common household devices becomes a skill that is ingrained in their cultural lexicon. And we all get numb to the fact that many of the implements we use everyday would be classified as science fiction even ten years ago.

Even now-archaic tools like email and video conferencing barely existed for use by the general public when Michael Jackson was still selling out stadiums. You have to admit: to see and speak to another person across the world...in real-time...with unbound clarity and quality...in the palm of our hands!...is nothing short of miraculous.

Doesn't it freak you out, even just a teeny bit?

It does to me. So forgive me my continued sense of wonder when I watch my 7-year-old trying to converse with a virtual female that lives inside a four-inch, four-ounce, handheld machine.

Alas, there are some things technology hasn't yet conquered for the basic citizen, at least not on any device I own. Just because Siri answers questions and initiates conversations (however uninspiring they may be) doesn't mean she can take the place of an actual human. I think.

Her passionless demeanor notwithstanding, Siri is wondrous. Ask a question, get an answer. Talk, she talks backs. Sometimes, she—I can't believe I'm using personal pronouns to describe her...it...whatever—will move things along if she senses things are stalling, not unlike many first (and last) dates.

Of course, whether Sophia doesn't understand that Siri is merely the lazy man's equivalent to an encyclopedia (that's a kind of book people my age used long ago to obtain information, in case you're wondering) or she takes wicked pleasure in trying to irritate someone who doesn't exist, the ensuing exchanges are still pretty funny. Here's a glimpse of actual "conversations"that occurred:

Sophia: "Are you nice?"

Siri: "You'd like to find a Japanese restaurant?

Sophia: "Are you smart?"

Siri: "I am smart enough to know not to answer that question."

Sophia: "How smart are you?"

Siri: "In my metaphysics class I cheated off the soul next to me."

Sophia: "Siri, what do you look like?"

Siri: "In the cloud, no one cares what you look like."

Sophia: "Why won't you talk to me?"

Siri: "What's on your mind, Andrew?"

Sophia didn't have any issues with the inane nature of their exchanges. But I felt protective of poor Siri, being asked absurd questions she couldn't answer. Maybe I was uptight because she wasn't being used in the way she was intended. (There's that darn "she" again.) Or perhaps I was irritated because Sophia would just end up being frustrated with Siri's answers. I realize now I was being unreasonable.

I was probably just jealous.

As it Should Be

Before going to sleep on New Years Eve, I asked Ella if she had a resolution for 2014. She asked what a resolution was, and I explained that it was an activity or habit you decide to change or start anew, or basically any promise one intends to keep beginning on January 1st and continuing throughout the new calendar year.

After a contemplative moment she replied, "What if everything is just as it should be?"

I hadn't thought that was even possible. "Uh," I stammered, "I guess you don't have to resolve to do anything if you don't want to."

"Then I resolve to keep everything just as it is," she said.

My life is pretty darn good. I'm healthy, have a great family and a lot of good friends, a stable job, and I generally enjoy myself everyday. But my existence is far from stress-free. I worry about a variety of things, from my kids' well-being to finances to work, and I'm probably hardest on myself when it comes to personality traits that frown at me in the mirror on a daily basis. In other words, I'm certain I will always have things to work on, changes to make, and new challenges to seek and conquer and, sometimes, at which to fail.

So you can imagine my envy at Ella's honest and nonchalant assessment of her immediate future. No fear, no doubt, no contemplation at how awful things are and how much better they will be if we would just (fill in the blank).

And while the life of a ten-year-old with a loving family, a good head on her shoulders and a safe environment is no match for the unexpected challenges of adult life, there's certainly something to be said for accepting that "everything is just as it should be."

In a religious or spiritual sense, and owing to the inevitability of the universe's karmic power, I would offer that everything is always as it should be, good or bad (depending on your perspective). Sure, that's easy to say when you've got it good. And there's not much I can say to those who don't, to convince them of that; or what I would want to hear from others should my situation suddenly turn. But the universe, from what I believe, doesn't favor one entity or another when it comes to making sure that balance is achieved. The universe, God, whatever you call it, works with all living things to make everything is the way it's supposed to be.

I'm not talking about preordained fate. In a moving, breathing world that is constantly changing based on what we do, we create our own futures and help to shape the futures of those around us. We are free to choose, and must always live with the consequences that happen...exactly as they are ordered, depending on our actions and non-actions.

Good and bad are mere semantic tags given by us sentient homo sapien sapiens—oh, we're just SOOOOO damn smart, we humans—to make us feel important. But whether we happen to be in the path of a drunk driver skidding out of control, or just far enough away from the guy who is, I'm sure that everything is as it should be to that invisible, incomprehensible, uncontrollable master of everything. (Personally, I'll go with the nebulous yet potent "energy.")

I'm not advocating the abandonment of new endeavors and self-improvements. In fact, I have already vowed to undertake many in both categories: be in the moment, breathe more, practice more yoga, listen more attentively, and secure an agent for at least one book this year. But perhaps we should all take a moment to step back and ask: Are things really that bad, or is everything exactly as it should be? And shouldn't we strive to accept that?

Happy New Year! Make 2014 great.