To show my appreciation, I'd like to give you a little laugh to start your week, courtesy of the earliest iteration of my blog: my old high school newspaper column, "On Marino's Mind." It seems like my sentiments back in the December 1997 issue are spot on for the present day -- and I think you'll enjoy the fact that my "voice" is very much the same. So, here are three excerpts from my December 1997 column:

The voters stood in line at the polls. After they manually signed the voter register, a volunteer gave them a paper ballot and directed them to one of two private voting booths. Each voter entered a booth and reviewed their choices in the primary election for civic rights in their community:

At my old job, a client required that we submit a quarterly report about one of their biggest cases. It was a template covering the case's procedural posture, the status of discovery, pending and anticipated motions, strategy recommendations, and of course, projected costs and fees. It required time, thought, and analysis. As the junior partner running the day-to-day on the case, yours truly was responsible for the quarterly report.

What makes you different? Chances are, others have your same professional skillset. I am not under the false impression that I'm the only professional speaker out there talking about quieting the imposter voice, saying no, setting boundaries, and extinguishing burnout -- and doing it well.

But think about walking down the sparkling water aisle at the grocery store. There are countless brands. Some people prefer LaCroix, others prefer Waterloo, and some prefer the store brand. They all offer basically the same thing, but we like what we like -- and are loyal to that brand. (Ever get in a Coke vs. Pepsi debate with some? Yikes!)

The Honeycrisp apple looked like something out of a fall catalogue. It was oversized, perfectly round, and a nice mix of red and green hues. As I cut it into slices for my son's after school snack, I couldn't help but snag a bite. But I was disappointed -- it had no taste! What a bummer. A little bit later, I popped a mint in my mouth. Once again, I tasted nothing. 

When was the last time you allowed yourself to do the thing you wanted?

When was the last time you gave yourself that grace?

When was the last time you wrote yourself a permission slip -- and did it?!

As I wheeled my cart out of Target a few weeks ago, my brain did a bunch of mental gymnastics. I remember thinking about the oppressive heat, the menu for the book event I was hosting the following week, whether I would join my family and friends at the town pool later that day, my next newsletter, and so on. This was in the span of less than one minute.

As I lay facedown on the massage table with nearly two dozen needles in my neck and back, about a million thoughts went through my head. They ranged from how did I get here to I can't believe I have so many needles in my neck and back to did she really just say that?! Welcome to my inaugural acupuncture visit! To reveal my mind's inner workings, I'll unpack those questions one by one.

The other day, a woman old enough to be my mother commented: "I guess you're officially middle-aged now, right?!" I'm 43 years old, so doing the math, I agreed -- somewhat in surprise. I guess I am middle-aged. Later that same day, I was part of a conversation where someone said, "You know you're in your 40's when...." And later that same week, I saw some friends for the first time in awhile and we spoke ad nauseum about our various ailments before joking: "We got old!"

So, is the universe telling me something? I'm not sure, but in honor of the rule of three, here is my random list of "Tell me you're middle-aged without telling me you're middle-aged."

On June 6, 2023, my life changed when I was diagnosed with lymphedema. If you don’t know what lymphedema is – I didn’t – it’s excessive swelling caused by the buildup of lymphatic fluid somewhere in the body. My lymphedema manifested itself -- out of nowhere – in my left foot. It impacts my foot, my toes, my ankle, and my lower leg. There is no cure for lymphedema. Although lymphedema is not a life-threatening condition, it is a life-altering one and it requires extensive daily management.

I was at a "parents' night out" dinner at a restaurant the other night. As we sat down to eat, the server came over to take our drink order. One of the moms picked up the beer and wine list and ordered a lager on tap. The server told her that the beer was no longer available and the mom said: "Oh! I'm sorry!" before she picked another beer.

I shut off the faucet, took off my dish gloves, and paused the audiobook. I opened the junk drawer and took out paper and a pen to write down the quote I had just heard: "The stories you choose to tell are the stories that make up who you are." When I heard this, I thought: "Whoa. I'm going to use that one day." That was last week, so I just didn't realize how soon that would be.

When we moved into our house in 2013, one of the first things we did was remove the wallpaper (in literally every room) and paint. We used various shades of beige throughout the house because it was a clean neutral. In 2015, we renovated our kitchen, opting for a green khaki color on the walls, which was the only real "color" in the house. I loved it all... until last year.

I never would have thought I'd be a guest on a podcast all about the power of play, but as they say, never say never.

I had the privilege of being a guest on the Playful Humans podcast hosted by Mike Montague. (Listen here or watch below.) His platform is all about unleashing the power of play to -- wait for it -- increase productivity. Yep, you read that right: take time off, do the things you enjoy, and watch your efficiency soar. So HECK YES, as someone who gives keynotes and facilitates workshops about extinguishing burnout, you bet your bottom dollar I can hang.

I almost didn't buy the suit. It was a splurge at a popular boutique and looked nothing like the sea of navy, gray, and black skirt suits in my closet. It was a sleeveless dress paired with an unstructured lady jacket. The dress and jacket were a black and cream patterned knit. I loved it from the moment I put it on: it fit like a glove; it was comfortable; and it was timeless. So, with a deep breath, I went for it.

October 26, 2003 was a beautiful fall day. Although it was a Sunday, I drove down to Seton Hall Law mid-morning. I didn't take my books or laptop with me because I wasn't going to school to study. I was meeting my moot court partner... we were going on a date. 

"Do you ever feel like just giving up?" When I asked my husband this the other night, he immediately looked at me with concern and surprise. I quickly added that I was referring to my lymphedema and how I was frustrated and aggravated. I was tired of it all: the wrapping, the re-swelling, the PT eating into my day and causing work to bleed into my nights. I was just... over it. 

So apparently I have lymphedema. That's when you experience swelling because your lymphatic system gets clogged and fluid pools in an appendage. Since March, my left foot has been really swollen and the swelling has traveled up into my ankle and calf. And let's just say, it's objectively noticeable and obvious. How did this happen?

I remember the first time someone called me funny. It was way back when I was an associate at a law firm. My reaction was two-fold: excitement and anxiety. 

I was excited because I never thought of myself as funny. Like, ever. For whatever reason, I equated being funny with being cool, so as a self-professed uncool person, I was flattered. At the same time, I was worried. Was it ok to be funny? I wanted to be taken seriously! I calmed down when I told myself that if anything, I was witty. I was naturally quick on my feet -- whether it be in a courtroom or a conversation. 

So Covid hit my household for the first time in three years. We were lucky to make it this far and are on the mend. However, the biggest bummer was canceling a long-anticipated trip to visit my in-laws in New Orleans. We were headed down to enjoy Mardi Gras parades! If you were following me last year, you may remember that it was somehow my first time going to Carnival* despite counting a native New Orleanian as my significant other since 2003!