Regenerate

On the night of a bad day, I wonder if people truly change. If we’re all just out here screwing each other up or if there is, as I’ve been taught, a capacity for a better way. Can the envious toss away layers of green? The angry encounter peace? Can the yeller stop yelling?

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The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

It began with the car accident. The parked car in the street, the U-haul ahead, a pick-up truck peeling out of his driveway with less-than-desirable visibility. I swerve, thinking of course I could clear the parked car to my right. I could not. I scrawl a note with a sincere apology, my contact information. Scout

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Try This: A Resource Party

You know that thing you’ve been wanting to do? Climb Mt. Everest? Clean out your attic? Tailor those pants? Launch that project? Volunteer at the food shelter? I think you should do it this summer. (I know, I know. The kids are home. You’ve got that road trip planned. Work’s insane right now. The calendar’s

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Small Step No. 06

There’s an oft-referenced marketing rule that, to encourage impulse purchases in consumers, desirable products should be neatly organized at eye level, preferably as an end cap. Make it eye-catching, make it obvious. Make it impossible to ignore. And this is why I’ve stopped placing my phone on our kitchen counter. It was eye-catching. It was

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Phase Two

Phase One. It’s a familiar tale: Woman has a baby. Woman takes time from career/passions/interests to raise said baby. She might replace conference calls with playdates, might switch out her former double almond milk latte to-go with a cup of lukewarm Folgers. She might trade in her mini Cooper for a minivan, invest in a

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For Your Ears

Confession: I haven’t been a podcast listener for long. I’m not much of a multi-tasker, so the idea of following along with a conversation while trying desperately not to burn dinner sounded like too much for me. But then. Ken and I have fallen into this odd little child-rearing rhythm as of late where I’ll

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A Poem

Something lovely for your Friday. — Maggie Dietz, “Pluto” From That Kind of Happy   Pluto Don’t feel small. We all have been demoted. Go on being moon or rock or orb, buoyant and distant, smallest craft ball at Vanevenhoven’s Hardware spray-painted purple or day-glow orange for a child’s elliptical vision of fish line, cardboard

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