Under Construction

Everything is under construction. My office, the bridge I walk over to take to work, and the building I work in.

Which, in some ways, can be really inconvenient.

Like for instance, the bridge I walk over to take to work. It’ll be out for a year. So, in the meantime, I have to walk around the bridge to get to the same place, adding about 5 extra minutes to my walk.

But before you think all I do is complain, I’d like to remind you that things being under construction can be a blessing in disguise. Sometimes, it gives you a completely new way of looking at things. For example, that extra 5 minutes now gives me a little more exercise that I wouldn’t have had if that bridge had remained open.

So, when you see that caution tape appear on your way down the street, don’t be negative. Instead, think of what fresh perspective you could be having by walking by it.

And if you’re also like me and feel like your whole life is under construction, just remember: you’re the engineer and despite delays and setbacks, you will finish this project.


I don’t know if I have any international readers, but if I do, here’s a quick peek into the American healthcare system.

  • Need pills
  • Go to doctor
  • Doctor prescribes pills
  • Sends script to pharmacy
  • Pharmacy calls you
  • Go to pharmacy
  • No pills
  • Call doctor
  • Doctor calls pharmacy
  • Pharmacy calls you
  • Go back to pharmacy
  • Gets pills
  • Takes pills
  • Repeat next refill

And for people like me who need medications to generally live their life, it’s really critical that I get my pills refilled on time.

So, tonight, I’d like to celebrate a wonderful, small moment in my day, where my pills get refilled. There’s truly nothing like tipping over the pill bottle and feeling all those little lifelines puddle in your hand. And not to mention the feeling that you don’t have to go through the rigmarole of calling your doctor so that she can call your pharmacy and your pharmacy can call you. For introverts like me, the less time on the phone making complicated requests, the better.

And no, I’m not a drug addict. I take thyroid medication that I am indebted to because without it, I’d be a cranky, exhausted shell of a person. So, yes, it is really important that I get my pills on time, and it’s nice to celebrate something so little about your day.

So, whatever you take your pills for,  raise the bottles and shake them like maracas. That’s the sound of you living your best life.


Week’s End

TGIF, am I right?

It’s been a long week for everyone after the holidays, no matter how much you like your job (and I do!)

But just looking forward to the weekend is not the smartest plan either. It’s short, only two days essentially, and it’s usually packed with a million errands to run or chores to complete. It’s hard to get totally excited about the weekend either.

So, how about an alternative? Why don’t we just celebrate Friday, the week’s end instead of the weekend?

Friday is great. In the 90’s, it meant a special lineup of TV (like Sabrina the Teenage Witch) and eating pizza (even though I can’t do that anymore). It’s productive – you still have to get through a day at work, but the night is yours and it’s young when you get home because you have Saturday to bounce back on. Friday is swollen with opportunity and potential.

So tomorrow, squeeze the most out of your Friday, the week’s end. You know, before the weekend kicks in.

The Girl Who Loved Alan Rickman

Back in the day, I used to have a job at Barnes and Noble.

It was my dream job – working with books, and getting to recommend my favorites to others.

At least, it was until they stuck me back in the music and DVDs section.

Back there, I mostly kept to myself. My job was to organize the DVDs and CDs and stock them on Tuesdays. And once in awhile, a customer would come in and ask for a particular DVD and I’d personally escort them to it, to which they would reply: “Oh, it’s cheaper on Amazon.”

A glamorous life, for sure.

But one day, when I was lamenting my lot not being able to be out with the book people, a girl about my age came up to my counter. She had dark hair and red lipstick. And she asked a very simple question.

“Can you look up a specific actor in your database and tell me what movies he’s been in?”

I wasn’t sure the system worked like that but I was willing to give it a try. And sure enough, it did.

“Who are you looking for?” I asked.

And she said, “Alan Rickman.”

Well, I started to rattle off many a name. Too many to count, too many to remember. I started with the most obvious, like Harry Potter and Die Hard, and went to the less obvious like Dogma and Sweeney Todd.

To all of the ones I suggested, she said:

“Yup, seen that one.”

“Yup, own that.”

“Yup, loved that.”

And so, I started to get frustrated with this girl. Why was she asking me when she’d already seen them? As I continued to recite the movies with a modicum of boredom in my voice, I finally reached the end of the fifth page of movies, and said, “there’s no more.”

Thrilled to finally be rid of her, I looked to her and saw a bright smile on her face that stopped me from anything I would have said to her.

“That’s okay,” she said, “I guess I’ve just seen them all.”

And she floated away, like a bubble.

So, why do I still think about this experience? Sadly, Alan Rickman has since died, and I did think about her on that day and wonder if she was devastated, somewhere.

But the real reason I remember her is because I could tell, from our infinitesimal interaction, that she was a passionate person. She would stop at nothing to make sure that she had experienced and lived Alan Rickman’s work. She was willing to reveal her almost obsessive passion to a complete stranger, just so that she could make sure she’d seen it all.

I, too, want that passion. I want to scare people with how passionate I am about something. I want to be the girl who loved Alan Rickman.

I hope I find that passion some day. And I hope you do too. But mostly, I hope you’re not afraid to ask the bored counter girl about it, just in case there’s something you might have missed.




Archers Never Made Good Kings

… is an excellent line in the song “Archer” by the Ballroom Thieves that really got me thinking today.

And my message is simple: Archers never made good kings.

Which in my own head means simply you can’t be on the defensive and the offensive at the same time.

Which means simply, stop trying to get better when you are healing.

And if that doesn’t help, simply, knock it the hell off.

Maybe I’m reading too much into one line, but hey, I was an English/Communications major. The curtains are blue for a reason.

So, what to do with that advice? Like I said, simple. Take your time and do one thing at a time. Be an archer – aim for your target. Or be a king – revel in your good fortune. But you can’t do both. You can’t grow and be content at the same time.

Remember that for the New Year season. It’s okay to try and be a better person, and it’s also great to be grateful for what you have and want things to slow down for a minute.

It’s good to have goals but don’t pull the string too taut on your dreams. You never know, you might be king one day.




New Year, Same Me

Ah, the early days of January.

The New Year is shiny and bright and it’s time to make New Year’s resolutions.

  1. Lose weight
  2. Lose some more weight
  3. Go running to lose weight
  4. And finally, tone up

And it’s really great for awhile. You get new jogging pants for the holidays and your running shoes lace on tight. And then, one thing leads to another and you just decide one day, probably a rainy day, that you don’t feel like running. And you think, it’s just one day. I deserve a day of rest after all.

Until it turns into two days, then a week, and then it’s February, March, April, May, June, and holy crap, it’s bathing suit season again.

Well, I’m here to tell you that I get it – that’s exactly what happened with this blog. I took a break. And then I took another one. And another one. And suddenly, it’s now 2020. Which is fine. Except…When I really looked back on my 2019, I couldn’t say it was all bad. I bought my first house, celebrated my first wedding anniversary, watched my sister get engaged, stayed at my great job, watched one of my other best friends get engaged, and just generally had a great time hanging out with the people I love.

But I didn’t have anything to show for 2019 either. I’m still writing a book that has taken me a decade to write. (I’m not even out of the first draft yet.) I usually keep a jar things I’m grateful for, and this past year, I had three things in it. Three. From a whole year!

So, I’ve decided to take this blog back. Back from the dust. Back from the hanging, snarled ivy. I love BaileyDailey, and I’m proud of it. I don’t even know who reads this besides my mom. But if you’re reading this right now, then I thank you.

But I want you to know, with all my heart, that your body will ALWAYS be ready for a bathing suit at any time, and please know that you can always start again.

So, here we go 2020. Bailey Dailey revisited.

You know the drill: I post Mon-Thurs, and I get the weekends off (to hopefully write my book).

Thanks, ya’ll. Cheers to starting over.