Today, I won’t be using any links to lead you anywhere. I trust that you’ll allow me to ramble and if you see something you’d like to know more about, you’ll go searching on your own.

Today is special because although I had planned to write about this subject all along, someone (namely, my dad) threw a monkey wrench into the plans.

I’d planned to write about my hands. Why? Because they are the best barometer of where I am on the anxiety-o-meter. I thought about it as I drove into work this morning. I would tell you that I’ve bitten my fingernails for as long as I can remember. I would share about my friend Eileen, who said, after meeting me for the first time at a job interview, “You looked so put-together. And then I saw your fingernails.” She didn’t need to explain further. I understood. I was…