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
I do not consider myself to be a leader by nature, nor a follower. Perhaps I identify most with the term “observer,” far preferring to sit at the proverbial corner bistro table and watch the world unfold as it does with little interference from me. If you asked, I’d tell you I’m an empath. I
My day is much the same as yours, I’d imagine. There are windows of time in which I am remarkably present, refilling my water glass, passing the raisins, lost in a riveting conversation with Bee about small intestines, sharks, small intestines in sharks. And then there are the other times. Windows of time that feel
Tee season, check. Bee is 100% a tee-and-leggings gal (dear apple, meet your tree), and I’m often asked where our favorite modern kids tees hail from. Here’s the thing — tees are tees are tees. Whether you’re snagging them from Goodwill and garage sales or ordering them from your favorite international boutique, it matters not.
A disclaimer, then. I’m often wary of tips. I believe the best lessons can be learned by failing and flailing, and I believe those are the lessons that settle in deepest, right in the spot where it matters. There is wisdom in just going for it, and so much beauty in the path, no matter
One of the greatest shifts in my marriage, possibly in my adulthood as a whole, has also been one of the smallest shifts. It has slipped by unnoticed in the mundane tasks of laundry cycles and dish duty, a simple phrase that has ever so slightly changed the energy in our home: I’m doing this
A few nights ago, I hopped a red-eye home from LAX with a carryon of sweaters and books, toothpaste. I’d gone camping with this crew, although camping is perhaps a reach to write. One morning, I woke to find glitter in my boot. — Whenever I teach journaling classes, or writing classes of any sort,
I’ve heard it said that there is an elusive sweet spot you will enter into during various times in your life, in your work, in your self. That when your duties and your dreams are in perfect alignment, you’ll take notice. The world will, too. You’ll find yourself smiling at your inbox, high-fiving the security