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
What’d you learn in Sunday school today? I ask her. We’re in the entryway gathering shoes, stuffing a tote with bug spray, hats, sunglasses. We’re off to the pool. I learned that when someone is sad, you don’t run away. You hug each other, she says, slipping on Crocs. That’s a great thing to learn,
Well, really, it was a true treat to chat with Brooke McAlary on her podcast, Slow Your Home. Listen, I’m far from a podcaster, but every now and then – on solo road trips or while mowing the lawn – I’ll plug in for a listen. Brooke’s is a good one – she’s kind, purely
A real thing I said to a girlfriend last year: I think I’ll wait until next year to start volunteering with Bee. Toddler help is sometimes not helpful, you know? A real thing Bee said to me this year: Mom, can we make our neighbor Bob some lunch and take it over to his house
We’re at the home of friends, and we’ve been given a quintessential summer night in the Midwest. Salsa on the dinner table, tortilla crumbs at our feet, Moscow Mules sweating in bright copper mugs. Later, there will be sticky marshmallow fingers, peed pants, an impromptu shower, a borrowed t-shirt. Later, the mosquitoes will arrive around
You’re a mother, but you want to be a doctor. You’re a chef, but you want to be a hair stylist. You’re a tattoo artist, but you want to be a writer. You’re a student, but you want to be a musician. You’re a musician, but you want to be a student. You’re a this,
Listen, I know it’s terribly unpopular for writers to talk about how they write because everything should be effortless to a reader, but you guys know how I feel about effortless. And so, I’m going to talk about it. Whenever I feel really, truly convicted about something, I want to share it that very moment.
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,