The greatest thing about living in the Midwest is the affordable travel factor. Save some nickels on a fixer-upper and – boom – you’ve got yourself a cheap home base where you can travel the world, stamp your passport, road trip to Anywhere, then mosey on back home to wash your whites/visit your mother/downward dog
This post is brought to you by my own personal amusement, and also by the current controversy surrounding a topic that, despite the fact that it cannot adequately be described as even remotely controversial, not by any stretch, is still dividing women as if it were the Red Sea, or Marcia Brady’s side part. —
In a world where perspectives are many, where options are many-er, where we can order pizza or not, read Tolstoy or not, vote left or not, it is impossible not to bristle. It is impossible not to be wrong. — Last week, I was wrong. And it was largely uncomfortable. It is uncomfortable to declare
Overheard, today in yoga class, amidst downward dogs and cedarwood incense: Focused gaze. Drishti. Look up. — One of my instructors is a horse trainer by trade. The way it works, she says, is that you move a horse with your gaze alone. If you want the horse to move, you motion to that area
You know when you’re at brunch and the waiter talks of their artisan jam? “It’s made from hand-picked organic cherries in Michigan, this tiny little farm off 96, and we infuse it with fresh mint from our herb wall over there and really, you’re not going to believe it. It’s divine. Trust me. Would you
For posterity, is all: Dear God, It’s me! Thank you for a wonderful day. Actually (Mom, can I say actually? – Yes, you can say actually), OK, actually, thank you for hedgehogs, too. I think they are just so funny when they sneeze. Please help me to sleep good. Thank you for my hair and
This morning, I read a beautiful passage from an interview with artist Janine Antoni, who once learned to walk a tightrope for the art commission, Touch. She says this: So, I practiced tightrope for about an hour a day, and after about a week, I started to feel like, I’m now getting my balance. And
She: Calling them hand fives. I’ll have done something smart like remembering to switch the laundry or googling what hedgehogs eat (cat food, go figure?) and she’ll say, Great job, Mom. Hand five. It’s been arts and crafts, crafts and arts. There is a thin layer of glue smattering everything east of the office. I’m