We're delighted to welcome you to Earlelevenstein.com.
The "we" is me and my RH—Right Hand—Heather Walker; my trusted guide through the totally mysterious world of technology; taking a rough sketch; a cartoon; some printed out or hand-written or scribbled words—my handwriting is incomprehensible—and pencil or pen or marker images from a sheet of whatever paper was within range and magically converting them into a series of pages and drawings or—as in this case—a website.
I don't know how she does it: but I do know it's a blessing for me. A miracle actually. I mean, here I am, a medal-worthy procrastinator; a lifetime avoider of deadlines actually moving along singing a song. I get my To-Do list from RH and I do it folks. From childhood on, alibiing was my strong suit; I was master of the My-Dog-Ate-The-Paper kind of excuse and when that failed, falling back on an arsenal of aches and pains or just a hard to pin down general feeling that I was going to be sick.
Why?
Well, I don't want to start with my first session of psychotherapy and drag you screaming through all the years, but; one session was really great when my therapist, a brilliant; insightful; ever-so patient man, held up his hand; a Hold-it sign; leaned forward and—I might be imagining this, but I think he was grinding his teeth—with great restraint and a clenched jaw, said:
"My dear boy; I love you, but you are driving me nuts. We get to a door…same fucking door again and again…and I open it and you just won't-fucking-walk-through."
Then he sat back and waved me on.
Well, that's history and fact is, we continued on and he never expressed frustration again; and ultimately, while I did go through that door, I'm still not quite clear on what was on the other side, except that things did pick up and I began actually meeting deadlines. Just under the wire, maybe, but delivered is delivered.
On top of which, my laundry list of ailments—which everyone including me thought I'd been exaggerating in order to stay home—was later diagnosed as a laundry list of Migraine iterations. This only after I had a terrifying deja vu episode—you don't want to know; it's the creepiest—and the MRI eliminated stroke as a probability.
So that's that and here we are now and again, welcome to our website and keep checking back and one thing you can be certain of; dull is not a word in our lexicon. And one thing I've learned for sure from my wonderful loving dearly missed psychotherapist; when someone opens a door, go through it.
Might just change your life, right?
Don't nod off now…see you next week.