When The New York Times calls you to ask your opinion about blogging, you answer. You fight the sweaty palms, fearful that you’ll say the wrong thing or your words might be minced or your good intentions to be honest and truthful and mindful might be misconstrued. And then, you state your peace. I stated
Summer is winding down, and I’m one of those crazy fools who starts mourning the loss of summer before it’s even passed. I can’t help it – my brain just trajects a million miles an hour, a racecar on the final lap. And yes, I do walk around with internal whiplash pretty much daily, you
Blogging won’t die, because it was never truly alive. The stories, the voices – that’s where the heart beats.
Arrive at the dock, spread out snacks. Open a book and start reading to the toddler. Fight the disappointment you feel when she wriggles away. Let her run; today is a day to explore. Throw rocks, smell flowers, point at reflections in the water. Note the ripples. Again, again, again.
So, last week, Ken and I road tripped to Michigan with our friends for really no reason at all except that it was time for a grown-up getaway. This was our first kid-free trip together, and we were so cliche in our childcare preparations that I won’t even go into detail here, except to mention
So, old news. I’m a social introvert, one that loves people and is fascinated by their stories and perspectives and nuances, but one that needs to take a nap directly after speaking with said people. It takes ALL of my energy to widen my eyes in the right moments and to figure out how to
So, I don’t watch the Bachelorette, but I’d totally give July a rose, absolutely. The weather has been spectacularly moody, vacillating between angsty teenage thunderstorms and polite 70-degree afternoons and hey, as a minor coffee addict, mood swings are something I can get behind. The rain makes the sun brighter, is that how the saying
And there were tanned shoulders and chilled rose and chocolate-covered potato chips and brilliant sunsets and fistfuls of blackberries and sandy beach blankets and long, good chats in the most perfectly mild 70-degree evenings and Calgon, take me away.