Well, I’m certainly no expert on winter survival with small children in tow (my yellometer often creeps up in these dark, cold months), but I’m determined to learn. Below, my tried-and-true playtime hacks – a few spins on everyday activities that have been keeping our home (relatively) peaceful, fun and busy: Read a book backwards.
A long-favored G.K. Chesterton quote I share in my book: There are two ways to get enough. One is to continue to accumulate more and more. The other is to desire less. — A text message from my girlfriend last weekend: That Chesterton quote, the one about enough. Does it work for shoes? — I
Consider it a preemptive strike. Each December, roughly mid-month, I attempt to rid our home of its thin layer of excess. Ken loves this about me, my Grinch-like tendencies to Subtract during The Great Season of Addition, but I don’t know. Consider it a gift in white space. (Like snow.) We will forever be on
Can I show you guys something? — Last spring, my friend Carly emailed me in a flurry of exclamation points: Style collaboration. We’re thinking scarf. Tassels! Monochromatic! You design it. Ethically made, of course. Want to come to India? Meet the makers? Send it out with CAUSEBOX this winter? Life offers no shortage of surprises,
A journal entry from months ago: April 30th, 12:04am. The laptop glows in our darkened kitchen and I hear only muffled sounds – small swells of laughter from the basement as Ken hosts a late-night birthday party for friends, Bernie re-positioning underneath my chair into the shape of a question mark, the dining room clock
When you get hacked on a Sunday morning, the Sunday of the week you’re officially announcing your book to your own little world, you feel a bit ill. I’m working to fix it, but for now, steer clear of my Twitter page, OK? I’ll meet you here (or here) instead. For fun, while I wait
I was talking to a girlfriend (hey hey, Voxer) last week about email discipline, specifically the art of not “checking in” throughout the day. It’s a slippery slope: you hop on your phone to peek at the weather, and then you find yourself “checking in” on Instagram, Twitter, your email account. You click on that
I’m still here. (Thank you for your kindness.) Still here with the scooping of formula, the rocking, the swaddling, the diaper-changing. The apple slicing for Bee, the tying of shoes, the playing of Uno. These hands haven’t made their way to a keyboard in a long while, and for that, I’m uncharacteristically content. But I