If I were talking to George Clooney right now...

... I'd ask him where to go in Cincinnati for some good chili! (I know where I'm going with this thought.)

Because, for one, I actually am driving to Cincinnati Saturday to take Abby and several of her friends to see some group play at the 20th Century Theater. Sandy is going with me and we are going to go someplace and hang out and have some chili and wait for the girls. And, George Clooney IS actually from Cincinnati.

But the reason I say that is I've been thinking this week that in this country at least, there is some weird unhealthy feeling that somebody who has money and fame is qualitatively different -- not just lucky, or hard-working, or good-looking -- but somehow better.

My friend at work and I were talking about how a bunch of articles online recently kept saying stuff about how George Clooney's girlfriend Sarah Larson is a former cocktail waitress, and how lucky she is to have a boyfriend like him.

Well, who made the rule that a person's job defines them? A person could be rich and famous and still be totally depressing or obnoxious or tedious to hang around with, or a person could be a waitress and be fun and optimistic and smart and make everyone around feel good.

And I think there is a strong tinge of sexism in saying how lucky, lucky, lucky that woman is -- maybe Clooney's thinking how lucky he is!

And, I've skimmed the Time magazine article on George Clooney that ran last week, in which the writer paints Clooney as a good guy, but is somehow nonetheless amazed that somebody like Clooney would actually come over to his house and spend an evening. I guess he was making the point that Clooney is a regular guy, which may mean that Clooney has a lot more common sense than a lot of people.

I have friends who have very little and friends who have a lot. And I don't think that either condition makes one a better or worse person. Or more fun to hang out with.

And while I enjoy hearing Amalia's tales of what famous person may have come into the Starbucks where she works, I don't think that actually meeting them would make my life better.

(And I know that Amalia is a better actress than 99 percent of the women at the Oscars the other night, and when she has her makeup done by a pro, she is just as glamorous and more...)

And that's why I say, if I were sitting next to Clooney right now, I'd ask him where to get some good chili in Cincinnati, or I might mention that our family always had the "50-50 Club" on tv at home when I was little (his dad worked on that show), or maybe even ask him to tell me what being in Darfur was like, and what he thinks a regular person can do.

But I wouldn't expect that the conversation would be better or would mean more than talking to any friend.

A photo from Amalia

January, 2008, Indanapolis: Randal, Adam, Amalia and David

Sunday afternoon

The fact that I have not posted since Dec. 31 is reflective of how these past weeks have gone. Although I love the work that I am doing in my new position at the newspaper (copy editor) it seems that it has been all-work-all-the-time. I have been exhausted and overwhelmed.

Recently I went to the emergency room after work on Friday. The emergency room because it was already 7:40 and other places are closed then. My shoulder and arm were so painful that I thought I might be having a heart attack. I knew for sure that I could not sleep that night unless I did something. So, I had the EKG, the blood test for heart information -- my heart is fine. The problem was muscular. I took a painkiller. I changed the chair I sit in at work. I had a flexible keyboard tray installed. I am trying, each hour, to get up and walk around and loosen up.

And I am trying to change some things about the way my work is done to make the flow more efficient, to make things simpler.

Jordie is also incredibly busy, and really likes his work with Gan Shalom (the preschool at our synagogue) and likes taking care of Henry (the 90-something-year-old professor). I think he is very fulfilled by both things. And yet, very busy.

My mom needs me more than I am currently giving. She feels lonely, I think, and the cure for that would be more activity, but she is slowed down by pain from her "frozen shoulder."

Abby and I have been fighting lately, and in the past few days, I have tried to consciously let go of the need to be right, right, right -- and to trust her more and trust that she has to make decisions for herself. When I do step back a little from the being authoritarian, things seems to work much better. And when I stop being a nudge, I am able to see what a capable, talented and wonderful girl she is.

Just getting anything done feels like walking through mud -- so difficult.

And getting more exercise...I need to do it but I am so tired, mentally as well as physically.

Things are going to get much busier with the synagogue, and I am trying to be mentally ready for that. We had a great board meeting the other night, and I was thinking how much doing work with the synagogue means to me.

Yet, there are friends whom I have not called, visits I have not made, and people who I want to invite over, to strengthen our ties, and I have not done that.

Sometimes, I sit for a few minutes in my little office, watching the ice sparkle on the branches of the dogwood tree outside my window, lit magically by the streetlight outside. And breathe slowly.

There is nothing in my life that I would give up. Somehow I must learn to balance it better, or to get more energy.

But for right now, I'm going to take a nap.