An excerpt from my latest piece for Fathom Mag: “In this Google-able age, where the very names of our most popular technological resources are rooted in mythology—Siri, Alexa, Amazon—we might do well to remember that our world, mighty and mysterious, is vastly unfindable. That our declinate minds will fail us. That curiosity needs little confirmation.
It’s a running joke in our friend circle that I’m impossible to speed up (surprise, surprise) and Ken is impossible to slow down. A single glance at an empty calendar square and the man’s found a way to fill it with four conference calls, three house projects, two oil changes, one heaping pot of curry
I don’t profess much expertise in the homekeeping department, which is precisely why I so chiefly excel in my role as Ruthless Curator. The less there is to dust, the less there is to dust, you get me? Still, Ken has twice this month complimented the state of our floors and I’ve become no stranger
An italicized passage in Bee’s science book. She and I are weighted under a shared blanket, two dogs snoring at our feet when we read it. Dolania americana has the shortest lifespan of any mayfly: the adult females of the species live for less than five minutes. Is that true? she asks me with wide
I used to be worried about black holes, Bee says as she slices a hard-boiled egg on the kitchen counter, adds pepper. Well, she smiles… I still kind of am. — And there it is, the thing I fully and finally have in common with my kid, this girl who is a mystery, who is
While we have yet to instate a family game night (yesterday, Scout tried to dump of box of playing cards through the heater vents, so we’ve got a ways to go over here), I’ll forever be an advocate for a good old-fashioned match of wits. Growing up, it was always Trivial Pursuit with my grandparents,
For the record, I’m not of the school of thought that life is in need of hacking. It is what it is – some days more bonkers than others – moment after moment knocking around together to create some semblance of order (or lack thereof). Life is life is life, and I’ve yet to witness
It happened when Ken was out of town. 3am, to be exact, when the toddler was in one of his weird sleep patterns, the kind where he wakes hungry and vibrant in the middle of the night, running wildly around the kitchen island, banging pots and pans, bunting golf balls, hollering nonsense after nonsense and