She: Calling them hand fives. I’ll have done something smart like remembering to switch the laundry or googling what hedgehogs eat (cat food, go figure?) and she’ll say, Great job, Mom. Hand five. It’s been arts and crafts, crafts and arts. There is a thin layer of glue smattering everything east of the office. I’m
Bee. Last week, you played with Barnacles, Peso, Shellington, Kwazii, Dashy and Trick (whom I am mispronouncing, you tell me). They are your friends in Ecuador, and they are found in the treetops, but sometimes they move to the fish pond and you must call them each, one by one, until they float to the
I’ve been craving cheese souffles. The last time I ate one, the kind I’m thinking of, my father-in-law was still alive. Ken and I had just moved home from Los Angeles and we were in a state of limbo, sleeping on his childhood sheets and searching for something that could be ours again. On Saturday
There have been rumblings around the water cooler of my small world, and the rumbles are saying this, over and over again: We are tired. We are weary. December is wearing us thin and our knuckles are beginning to dry and crack, souls soon to follow. For some of us, it’s the endless sales and
Raising a kid when both parents work flexible, work-from-home gigs is kind of like sharing a car. You communicate all the time, but about logistics and schedules and routines until one random Tuesday night, you pass each other in the hallway and you’re like, “Hey! How’ve you been?” It’s crazy, but the good kind. The
Hi, there! If you’ve been visiting this site for any number of minutes, you’ll likely have read my “official” bio. If not, it’s here. It’s the sizzle reel of my career thus far; the big, celebratory moments awash in glitter remnants and golden trophies. (Actually, there are no trophies. Can I get a trophy?) There
A few of you asked if I’d share more about Ken’s brain tumor diagnosis in college (mentioned in this post), but I just didn’t feel like it was my story to tell, you know? There’s always a fine line and delicate balance when your story kind of spills over into someone else’s life, and for
Fall’s my favorite season, with its changing colors and crisp air and first savory stockpot of Cincinnati chili. If seasons were a family, fall would be the mother shooing in her children to come inside before it gets dark – dinner’s ready, and don’t forget your jacket! It’s a season where we celebrate intentional change