Well, Haiti then. I don’t know how to process large moments, grand gestures. Once in Los Angeles, I walked into a roomful of 15ish friends gathered for my surprise birthday party and, after becoming startled and then grateful, I promptly accepted a mimosa and hid in the bathroom to take deep breaths for four, five
I didn’t anticipate a passport stamp to Haiti. But then again, rarely do I anticipate the greatest gifts. Ken, out of left field. Bee, surprise! Even the site you’re reading this on, this glowing rectangle that’s oddly held just enough space for a decade of myself? Wildly unexpected. And now here’s Haiti. I’m going for
1. Turn off your phone. 2. Head straight for Otavalo and book a room at Casa Mojanda. Room 1 is rad because it has a fireplace and is closest to the food. Also, the llama. If you’re coming in around midnight on a Saturday, you might catch an indigenous rave and smile at the baby
It happened like this. I went to bed last week with a voice – albeit a throaty, hoarse one – and I woke without one. I was in Austin, scheduled to keynote a conference with a gaggle of women who I simply couldn’t wait to meet. They were “Me, too” women – the kind that
I’m notoriously bad at taking pause for celebration. I take pause for necessary things – things like rest and rejuvenation, self-preservation and service – but when it comes to a celebratory pause? I don’t know; I hesitate. There’s just always something to do – another project to complete, another email to send, another lesson to learn,
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
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