Last week, my best friend from high school came for a visit and brought her family along. We hadn’t seen each other in oh, four years? And another four before that? But time melted away the months and in mere minutes flat, her kids and my own are stacking pillows at the foot of the
There are two ends of myself, continually in the midst of battle with one another. There is, on one end, the desire for posterity. For being the memory keepers for my children, for being the memory keeper for myself. There is a desire to document these sticky beginnings of each other – all throughout the
Real quick, a disclaimer: I’m using the term “essential” loosely here. Essentials are food, water, shelter. We know this to be true, and yet, we are continually convincing ourselves otherwise – that the cast-iron skillet, the lavender oil, the boar bristle brush are essential to a life well-lived. And while thoughtful style is a worthy
The way I see it, a baby grows in your belly, or perhaps your heart, and stretches each to the max. A nudge here, a push there. Stretching, expanding, breathlessly requesting more room from you – inside, outside – until you think you cannot possibly give another inch, another minute, another day. (You do, of
In this questionnaire, so so so many of you asked that I share a list of the sites and blogs everyone else recommended. And so, in the spirit of spreading the love and shedding a spotlight on some well-known friends, here’s an unofficial list for you: 10 blogs you love to love. (Fun fact: I’ve
Our conversation has taken a sharp turn to privilege. She is quoting Eleanor Roosevelt to me – I am familiar, I say – and she is twirling her locks in one hand, cupping an Americano in the other. She tells me that her daughter has gone off to college. A small liberal arts school out
Dear friends: If you’ve visited this space before, you’ll know I’m in Year 12 of professional blogging. A decade of hitting publish, hovering over delete, googling the correct usage of “past” and “passed” (still can’t nail it). Twelve years. This makes me an Internet teenager, and can I be frank here? I’m feeling it. I’ve
I’m a sauce girl, through and through. Take me to a fancy restaurant and I’m oft-tempted to order the kids’ chicken fingers as a means of tasting every condiment imaginable. Chipotle mayo? Extra, please. Your pumpkin ketchup? Yes a million. Aioli anything? 100%. Thus, marinades. I don’t use marinades as marinades in that I don’t