What have we been up to, you ask? This. Becoming grown-ups, of both the 4-year-old variety and the 34-year-old one. Trying not to yell at each other. Eating sweet potatoes and kale. Vet appointments, Squinkie towers, reading lessons. Nothing and everything. — Our days have been syrup slow, stretching and sticking into a clump of
You know, you take one lovely spring walk on a 64 degree day to carpe diem or whatever you want to call it and – boom – you wake up the next morning with swollen eyes and an itch in your throat. Alllllllergiess!!!!!!! Tis the season. Ken and I get crazy allergies every.single.year, and yet,
I am continually shying away from sharing Hows. I don’t know, it just seems like my favorite advice has always been to throw caution to the wind and dig your own ditch. But here’s a story: I dog-sat for my mother-in-law this weekend. She is a lovely tiny Oreo-spotted dog that doesn’t bark, a rare
When half of the town is out of power, when trees have landed on sidewalks, when another storm threatens the evening, it only makes sense to throw a cook-in: 1. Gather ribs, burgers, hot dogs from the fridge and freezer. They will go bad, you cannot eat them all, and so, a text chain is
We rise early and squeeze ourselves into a day packed for adventures: play dates in the backyard painting rocks, a turkey lunch on the patio, hunting for fresh mint at the farmer’s market, swimming late into the afternoon. It is humid; the perfect weather for memory keeping. Everything sticks. We pause often to search for
Well, let’s just get down to it. Last week, while Bee was napping a bit longer than usual, I headed to the bathroom for lotion and promptly decided to reorganize. Reorganizing, purging, editing, culling – these are all of my love languages, and had I been able to register for my wedding at The Container
This post was written with and for Glade – thanks for reading! So, shortly after publishing this post, it snowed. It snowed and snowed and then stuck to the pavement, and the result was an extra three inches on the ground, and perhaps an extra three inches around my waist from eating my emotions. But
I’m the youngest of three girls. Here’s what that meant, for me, when I was smaller: (1) I wore Guess jeans six years after they were cool, (2) My baby book lies empty (save for a few strands of blonde locks that I placed in the tiny designated envelope when I was in junior high