Another week, another round of outfits built from the 25 items currently hanging in my closet. I am beating a dead horse here, and so I will simply say this: I have fallen ill to the matters of reducing. I find myself purging everything, from pantries to toy bins and craft closets to medicine cabinets.
This is the part of my story I didn’t want to write. It’s the part the filmmaker sometimes leaves on the cutting floor, because the character does something to offend, like cracks her gum or runs over a cat with her car, and you think, “Can I finish this movie? Can I get past this
I’ve been craving cheese souffles. The last time I ate one, the kind I’m thinking of, my father-in-law was still alive. Ken and I had just moved home from Los Angeles and we were in a state of limbo, sleeping on his childhood sheets and searching for something that could be ours again. On Saturday
So, it’s fairly obvious from my Instagram feed that we jetted town last week, a spur-of-the-moment adventure that didn’t involve scheduled work for either of us, which basically never happens. I don’t know, maybe Ken and I are growing up? Maybe we’re growing wise and gray and the next step is another minivan or maybe
On writing, or creating an all-compassing piece of art, craft, work: “Embrace this selfishness, for now. Wrap it around you like a quilt made of air… Don’t leave that essential place. Be a good steward to your gifts.” -Dani Shapiro When I read this, I was in bed. It was January, on a chilled but
Another week, another slew of outfits. Want to hear something funny? I talked to my dad on the phone this week (Hi, Dad!) and he says to me, while I’m chopping carrots, something to the effect of: You know, Erin. If you were living a long time ago, you’d have one outfit that you’d wear
I do not profess to dislike the Internet. This invention – if you can even call it that, being that its advance has changed our entire world in such a short time and is actually more of a movement, an evolution, no, a revolution – is a gift. We can tap on the keyboard and
I am a woman of my word, mostly, except for the one time I lied to a pug-loving co-worker and said I had a pug, hoping she’d be my friend, but it turns out she had a pug, too, and wanted to set up a dog playdate and was I available next Saturday? And then
