So, we’ve been simplifying. I know you know this, because it’s a fairly strong current that’s been running through every word I’ve shared in the past year, maybe longer? Broken record over here. (But I kind of like the scratch.) Ever the cliche, January sounds like the perfect time to clean out a closet or
You know the drill by now, it’s non-goal time. In a month where we’re encouraged to pick apart bits of ourselves – more of this, less of that – sometimes it’s just refreshing to take a step back and see the landscape for what it is. To swim in the grace we’ve been given; leap
This weekend, pecans. Candied and sticky, one batch then two and finally three. The recipe was unearthed in a paleo cookbook months ago and I have, in many batches since, perfected them to the point of imperfection. I do this often, discovering an ideal recipe but in a mixture of laziness or self-expression or sheer
There have been rumblings around the water cooler of my small world, and the rumbles are saying this, over and over again: We are tired. We are weary. December is wearing us thin and our knuckles are beginning to dry and crack, souls soon to follow. For some of us, it’s the endless sales and
There are days where parenting- as a verb, as we’ve been told – seems insurmountable. Thick days, stuck days. Where we tip the maple syrup bottle just one more miniscule degree hoping for something – anything – to seep out. And we find that, no, we didn’t keep any morsels in the reserve. We used
Remember last year when our basement plans were but a dream? When movie night meant huddling up in bed with the iPad or piled on blankets amidst drywall rubble? No more, friends. No. More. Take a look:
I receive quite a bit of emails asking me for advice on blogging. Here’s what I say, nearly every time: Write something – anything – you are proud of. Bleed into it on a Saturday afternoon when the world offers much else but your heart denies anything but. Swim in the pencil shavings, dance in
I didn’t want to write this post. It feels scary and raw, and there is a deep temptation to stay in my lane – my self-imposed lane, of course – where I share throw pillows and toys and memories. Things stay fluffy and good; positive and bright. Bright is my specialty, my second set of
