I used to white-knuckle my way through the holiday season. The calendar sometimes felt too thick to navigate, barely enough white space to catch a breath between out-of-town guests, Christmas programs, your fourth batch of gingerbread for Aunt Margaret’s cookie exchange. For a gal prone to quiet and space, the bustle of holidays have often
To be fair, I’m not a present purist. When it comes to Christmas, there are few philosophies I stand by universally, except this: the best gifts for the ones you love are the ones they’ll love. What this means, for my own small crew, is that no matter how much I want to dole out
“He still doesn’t sleep through the night?” is what she said to me, and I laugh. He does not, this 2-year-old diplomat. He cries out, asks to be rocked, asks to be held, asks for a bottle, asks for a diaper change. While the world sleeps, he lures me into something different. I can’t accurately
When welcoming any new season, I tend to get a bit squirrely with my wardrobe. There’s never a shortage of voices announcing the latest must-have ankle boot or toting this fall’s newest cut of denim. For an unapologetic lover of getting dressed, there’s always the temptation to upgrade.
I haven’t written anything in a long stretch. It wasn’t intended, never is, the blinking cursor abandoned for house projects like clean garages and a re-carpeted bedroom. Yesterday, I gave up an attempt to patch a hole in the rubber hose in favor of a water balloon toss. This, the beat of our summer –
When I lived in L.A., pre-HGTV.com days, I worked as a fashion stylist and production assistant for a series of high-end sample sales. We’d phone our carefully-culled list of independent designers and rescue their leftover garments from end-of-season demise, then rent out a boutique hotel ballroom to display the gathered merchandise over the course of
