Well yes, I am a bit of a Luddite. I know. There are all manners of contradiction in this statement – a blogger opposed to technology? – yet I can’t help but feel as if, often, we’re squandering our time on lesser things in the name of false connectivity. Our attention spans are shorter. Our
To chore, I say. — Early this spring, Bee began campaigning for a fish. Actually, nine, she says, for swimming together. My hesitations were many. More responsibility for our kids often means more management for us, and with two kids, two dogs, two jobs, we were fresh out of any available management margin. She’d be
Last weekend, my friend Shannan and I shared our respective stories with the beautiful community of Flourish, and during the Q&A portion, the conversation naturally veered toward boundaries. How do you set them? What are your own? Where do you draw the line? Shannan’s answer was flawless, and it was simply this: we do not
There are two ends of myself, continually in the midst of battle with one another. There is, on one end, the desire for posterity. For being the memory keepers for my children, for being the memory keeper for myself. There is a desire to document these sticky beginnings of each other – all throughout the
Bee is both collector and crafter, wildly imaginative and unsurprisingly resourceful (sounds not at all familiar). Her desk lives in Ken’s office, and often, the pair can be found whiling away the afternoon in tandem, fully immersed in their own respective projects. In Bee’s world, Q-tips become fishing rods. Pom-poms become hedgehogs. To say nothing
I was never much of an outdoor kid. Once, I was gifted a Little Mermaid tent for which to encourage many-an-adventure in the grassy terrain, but instead, I opted to pitch it right over my bed to cozy up in my floral comforter with a dogeared copy of Matilda. (Bless those parents of mine.) Even
2am, the alarm rings. When you’ve got yourself a baby with boundless energy and a little girl with endless questions, 2am is sometimes your magic hour of silence, of writing, of work. While the two littles are tucked safely in their beds, I pad into the dining room for cinnamon tea and words. It is,
You know that thing you’ve been wanting to do? Climb Mt. Everest? Clean out your attic? Tailor those pants? Launch that project? Volunteer at the food shelter? I think you should do it this summer. (I know, I know. The kids are home. You’ve got that road trip planned. Work’s insane right now. The calendar’s