I’m rarely one for how-to or self-improvement books, opting instead for advice unearthed in the twists and tangles of any given life. I find that I learn more when I have to work for it, when its interpretation is my own, a flattened landscape mined deeply for meaning. Memoirs have always been my terrain of
We hadn’t meant to talk about the ethics of consumerism, but alas, the curiosity of a 5-year-old is rarely capable of stifling.
Well, no, I can’t exactly claim the same perspectives (nor groundbreaking insights) of Virginia Woolf. But truthfully, I’d never deny the beauty of a room of one’s own. A space for writing or thinking, for arranging things just-so, for practicing what it means to make a small, seemingly insignificant mark on this world – or
Head’s Up: Sponsored by Nest This is how it would go: the doorbell rings and the dogs bark and I shush the kids, army-crawl over to the corner of my kitchen where I sneak onto my tiptoes to peek above the half-wall – ever-slowly – so I can see the doorbell-ringer but the doorbell-ringer can’t
The sun is shining, a neighbor’s lilac bush is in bloom. When its Lilliputian flowers dance over to my front stoop, I can’t help but sense they’re carrying an early conception of chimera. As it stands, every idea I’ve pursued at length – plans snared to sites built to projects born to gigs proposed –
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.
Head’s up: Sponsored by Walmart.com. I know we’re due for an adventure when I begin researching tickets to Dubrovnik on a whim. For the past five springs, we’ve hit the skies for an international trek – from the yellow jonquils of London to the tamarind trees in Singapore – but this year, a tricky calendar
It happens like they say it will: you blink and she’s nearly 6. Long limbs, tangled hair, tiny bruises polka dotting her shins from rope-climbing, tree-jumping. I cut her pants into shorts for the onslaught of spring, smile at the realization that every pair boasts multiple holes at the knee. Snips and snails and puppy
