One day, a few years ago, before we even started the remodel, the four of us were up in San Francisco for the day. After we had a fabulous lunch in the Marina district, we were driving to Fisherman’s Wharf, intent on getting get sundaes at Ghirardelli.

On Van Ness Avenue, I said, “I think I’m having a midlife crisis.”

“You…wait, what?” Darin said.

“I want to buy a convertible.”

“Okay, for one thing, that is a not a midlife crisis, that is just…wanting a change of pace. For another thing, don’t call it a midlife crisis, that had me in another conversation entirely. And for another, convertibles are a pain in the ass. Why would you want a convertible?”

“Dunno,” I said. “I just suddenly do. I was looking at some cars going by recently and I thought, ‘I’d really like to drive around in a convertible.’”

“Well, you’ve had the Odyssey for several years now, maybe it’s time to think about getting a new car.”

“I don’t want a new car. The Odyssey is a great car. It’s just that I want a convertible. Everybody I know has had a convertible.”

“Yes, and then they all got rid of their convertibles and bought good cars.”

“You have a point there.”

“Do you know what kind of convertible you want?”

“Oh yes,” I said. “I want an SL 500.”

From the look on Darin’s face, I could tell he was rethinking the whole “midlife crisis” analysis.

“Are you sure about this?”

“I don’t want to get one right now. I’m just thinking about it.”

Which is part of the reason that after this conversation I didn’t push the issue. I often get weird obsessions about things, and over time they would fade. Probably, most likely, almost certainly, this would happen too.

Or, you know… maybe not…

Monday morning I was sitting in bed, reading the news on the iPad, when I felt a pain on my left side. Not a sharp pain. Much more like the pains I used to get when I was younger and my chest would constrict and I would have to take very deep breaths to expand the muscle.

I ran some errands and then I went to the gym to lift weights. My chest felt fine…except when I lay down to do the chest press. Mind you, actually doing the chest press felt fine — in fact, the pain went away when I did lifted the barbell. When I was just laying there, though, the pain intensified.

Weird.

I made dinner (fish fillets, cheesy orzo, and salad). We watched Buffy. I went to bed. The pain was worse, but I figured a good night’s sleep would help.

At 3am, I woke up with some of the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life, and I’ve had two babies. A couple of times I actually felt my heart beat arrhythmically (not the first time I’ve felt that — my heart can be a little weird), but combined with the pain it was terrifying. Getting out of the bed was excruciatingly painful. I wondered if I should drive myself to the ER. I decided that wondering if I should go to the ER without waking Darin meant I still thought I had a choice in the matter, so I dug through the medicine cabinet, found some five-year-old Vicodin, and went back to bed.

In the morning the doctor’s office told me to come in immediately. The doctor asked if I was having shortness of breath, and I said the problem I was having with breathing was that it hurt to expand my chest, not that my breathing was impeded in any way. Then she asked me if I’d been on a plane recently (“Um…early January?”) or if I’d had a cold recently (“Nope”). The nurse gave me an EKG. The doctor read it and said, “The good news is you haven’t had a heart attack. The bad news is your heart is really angry about something, so I’d like you to get a CT scan.” The nurse scheduled the scan for me at a local MRI/CT place.

On the form the doctor had written “Pulmonary embolism?” The question mark did not reduce the anxiety I was having.

The top of my list of errands was: go to AAA, tell them I’d bought a new car, ask what rates they were going to offer me. But I didn’t feel much in the mood. I sat in the AAA office and did searches on “embolisms.” After a few minutes I decided that my current insurance would cover the new car until I could work out the messy details and headed home, had some lunch, and waited for my appointment.

CT scans are slightly different than MRI machines — you’re not totally encased in a scary coffin (I’m not claustrophobic and the MRI machine scared the crap out of me), but you’re inserted in this giant tube that whirls around you. The technician puts a catheter in your arm to inject you with the fluid that shows up on the scan. You have to hold your breath. It’s a deeply unpleasant experience all around.

When I got on the table I told the tech I needed help lying down. He asked me when the last time I ate was, and I said, “About an hour ago.”

“You have to fast for this. We can reschedule.”

“Can you find out if that’s true?” I asked. “Because I really need this test done today.”

The doctor in charge said I could do the test, but I should have a basin nearby in case I tossed my cookies. Then the tech said I needed to raise my arms above my head. I couldn’t do it. Raising my left arm was incredibly painful; letting it drop by my head felt like someone was knifing me in the side. He tucked a pillow under the arm so it wouldn’t have to drop all the way back. We did the test and at the end the tech had to lift me off of the table. Had I really gone to the gym and done my full workout on Monday? I could barely move.

I called the doctor’s office an hour after the test. Then an hour and a half later. Still no word. The pain in my chest was much, much worse, possibly because of the whole left-arm-over-the-head thing. The nurse finally called me back at 4:30.

“The scan was clear,” she said. “We’ll phone in a prescription for Vicodin.”

“Could you ask the doctor to look at it again? Because I am having the worst pain of my entire life.”

She said she’d call me back.

She did and said the doctor was absolutely certain about the scan. Chances were very high I had a pleurisy (an inflammation of the lungs), the kind of thing you usually get when you have a cold.

This pain was much worse than I could remember having from a chest cold. “Is there anything else could it be?” I asked.

The nurse said if the pain continued I would have to come in again and run some more tests. Awesome.

I went to the pharmacy, where I got my five dollar bottle of Vicodin pills (which might have greater efficacy than the five-year-old kind). The pharmacist had to give me a consult, so she could explain how to use it and what to be cautious of. “Any questions?” she asked.

“Yes. Why is this drug considered ‘fun’? I’ve taken it before, I don’t get get why it’s fun.”

“Neither do I,” she said. “It just puts me to sleep.”

We got Chinese takeout last night and I took my drugs. Generally painkillers don’t work for me (which is why I never think to take them), but I could definitely feel the difference when I took the Vicodin. We watched Buffy and then the series premiere of Angel, and I remembered how much I didn’t like Angel as a character on Buffy, but loved him on his own show.

There’s a scene where Doyle explains why he’s there helping Angel, and his speech includes a recap of everything we know about Angel’s life.

“Why is Doyle telling Angel stuff he clearly already knows?” I asked the kids.

“Because viewers might not know about it,” Sophia said.

“That’s what I was going to say!” Simon said.

My kids are awesome.

After that I went to bed, which was difficult because moving too suddenly brought the pain back. I woke up in the middle of the night and took more Vicodin.

This morning the pain has lessened a great deal. If it had felt like this yesterday, I wouldn’t have called the doctor in such a panic. I’ve taken my Aleve (the Vicodin can wait until I’m sure I don’t need to operate a car). And I am really grateful I have access to such great medical care when I need it.

Not a few times yesterday I wondered what I would have done if I didn’t have insurance. Or if I’d been afraid of being fired because I was going to miss a day of work. Heck, lots of employed people are experiencing the joy of no health insurance. I’m guessing I would have put off a visit to the ER until I’d been sure I was dying. And if it had been a pulmonary embolism (which you need to deal with immediately), I probably wouldn’t have gotten that far.

Our society needs to figure out what our priorities are.

A few years ago Darin and I went out for dinner on Feb. 13, because that was the night we had arranged for date night. It was a Tuesday, which generally speaking is dead (one of the reasons we like going out on Tuesday nights).

To our surprise, the restaurant we picked was packed. We asked the maître d’ what was going on. We would have expected the place to be packed on February 14, but not February 13.

Without missing a beat the maître d’ said, “February 14 is for wives, February 13 is for girlfriends and mistresses.”

Wow. That’s romantic.

In case you’re wondering why your guy absolutely needed to work late tonight…now you know.

I like quotations. Everyone does, of course; that’s why we see them all over the place.

“If you don’t like something, change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude. Don’t complain.”

– Maya Angelou

I can’t remember where I first heard of the concept of a Commonplace book, but it seems like such a great idea. We’re used to having spiral notebooks full of received wisdom in classes, or in journals filled with our private thoughts and experiences. But what of books of knowledge that we compile — not secret info, but things that strike us as important or that we want to remember.

“I even have a superstition that has grown on me as the result of invisible hands coming all of the time—namely, that if you do follow your bliss, you put yourself on a kind of track that has been there all the while, waiting for you, and the life that you ought to be living is the one you are living. When you can see that, you begin to meet people who are in the field of your bliss, and they open doors for you. I say, follow your bliss and don’t be afraid, and doors will open where you didn’t know they were going to be. … Wherever you are, if you are—if you are following your bliss, you are enjoying that refreshment, that life within you, all the time.”

– Joseph Campbell

I use Yojimbo all the time, primarily to save web pages I find interesting, but somehow that’s different. That’s more like a shoebox full of newspaper clippings, like I (yes) used to keep when I was younger. Of course, I go through my collection of Yojimbo articles about as often as I went through that shoebox; i.e., never.

(Although that’s not quite true: I started going through the Yojimbo articles to see which ones stuck out as something I might be interested investigating further as story ideas. I came across one article about abandoned houses being used for indoor marijuana growers. Then I found another article that was almost the exact same thing, except it was printed four years later and in a different town. Apparently I’m really intrigued about the idea of marijuana growers taking over abandoned houses. And also it’s a problem that’s not going away any time soon.)

“In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing.”

– Theodore Roosevelt

Anyhow. I keep a list of meaningful quotations in a file, and I add to it every so often. I find it’s very useful for an attitude reset, or a small burst of inspiration, or even to get an idea of my next reading. Honestly, I’m going to read Epictetus and William James any moment now. I’m quite sure of it.

I also find it interesting to see what quotations speak to me and which ones don’t. You’re either stirred by an idea or you’re not. Which is fine — you just have to go find the ideas you are stirred by. And if everything just brings you down, honestly… Get out more. Go photograph a flower or sniff a tree or sketch a sport car or something. Get out of the damn house.

“Uncertainty is the only certainty there is, and knowing how to live with insecurity is the only security.”

– John Allen Paulos

I find I get the most out of the ideas I find the most shocking — like Paulos’s. Why does what he said upset me? What would it take for me to be okay with that idea? If what he’s saying is true, what does that mean about the rest of my life?

“People often say that motivation doesn’t last. Well, neither does bathing – that’s why we recommend it daily.”

– Zig Ziglar

Some of the quotes I save are repeated everywhere (like Ziglar’s). That’s okay. That reminds me that this dose of inspiration or outlook-changing I’m doing is perfectly natural. You need to keep setting course and remembering where you want to be. And anything that propels you to do it is okay.

I highly recommend keeping a list of quotes you find meaningful.

I had my day planned out: I would write until 1, then go to the gym, then go get the kids.

The day started a little weird: I went to Starbucks, which was packed. The giant handicapped table near the power outlets had one guy at it. So I said, “Can I sit here?”

“Sure, sure,” he said, and he moved his stuff out of the way so I would have more space.

I put my coffee down and started unpacking my things to get working.

“What kind of coffee did you order?” he asked, pulling my cup of coffee away.

“What?” I said. I reached for my coffee.

“What did you order? I need to get you another one. I wasn’t paying attention and I drank your coffee.”

To the best of my knowledge, since I began hanging out in cafes in 1986, that’s the first time that’s ever happened.

“Grande Americano, no room,” I said.

A few minutes later he came back with my new coffee (undrunk, I hoped) and a table nearby opened up, so I moved to it.

And then no writing occurred.

(Shortly thereafter, an actual handicapped person came in and asked if they could have that table, so that guy ended up moving to the table next to mine.)

How could that be? On Sunday, when I’d had some writing time, I’d written lots. I’d left myself a cliffhanger. I knew what the next scene had to be.

Nothing happened. I wrote one sentence, practically hacking the words out of stone. The next sentence was hiding, somewhere, afraid to come out.

Oh no.

At 12:30 I finally decided I would go to the gym, work out, get the blood flowing… I checked my phone.

Four calls from Sophia. I hadn’t heard my phone once. Stupid Starbucks music system.

She wasn’t feeling well and wanted to go home. So instead of going to the gym, I went to the school, picked her up, took her home. She went upstairs to lie down. I opened my computer.

Couldn’t write.

Tried playing Tropico 3.

Hated every scenario I tried.

Read a friend’s story to send some feedback. Thought perhaps this might not be the best day for that, because nothing else seemed to be happening. Sent it anyhow.

Sophia came down an hour later to get some lunch.

One of Darin’s great gifts (or strengths, or abilities, or whatever) is that he can concentrate through anything. I can’t. I know I should work on that. But if one of the kids is home, around for any reason, only half of my concentration is present. (And it hadn’t exactly shown up earlier in the day, anyhow.)

I finally called it a day at about 3:30 or 4. I played some Civilization IV. The civ I built annoyed me and I quit the game.

Some days it just doesn’t pay to get started.

In no particular order:

• Super what? No, I’m not going to be all self-congratulatory. I hate it when people are all “Modern culture’s got nothin’ on me, man.” I honestly have zero interest in professional football and it really wouldn’t occur to me to spend 4 hours watching a commercial fest interspersed with bits of a football game. I used to watch baseball, but that ended in 1993.
• I ran on Thursday. I ran this morning. I didn’t run far, but given that I think I may have run twice in all of January, I’m feeling pretty good about it. You don’t have to plan out your exercise regime for the rest of your life. Just for today.
• I’m starting BJ Fogg’s Tiny Little Habits program tomorrow. When he sent out the materials on how it works, I said, “Ohhhh.” Yeah, duh. Anyhow, I picked a few things to work on. I’ll report back later this week as to the program’s effectiveness.
• Man, if you want to get a lot of hits on your blog, just talk about ebooks versus physical books. Also: the curly hair method.
• I drove to Union Square yesterday to have lunch with a friend. Getting into San Francisco is a pain in the ass. Getting out of San Francisco requires wiliness and stealth and maybe rocket launchers. If you’re leaving from Union Square garage, what in the best way to get out of the city? It took me about 25 minutes to get to the freeway on-ramp on 4th Street and I was a nervous wreck by the time I got there.
• Turns out everyone else in town decided this Starbucks was a good place to spend time during the game as well.
• This Nissan travel mug is basically the greatest travel mug ever.
• I didn’t have my phone with me today. It’s amazing how naked and out of touch I feel now without it. My phone, my self.