I turned the calendar to December yesterday and sat with that for a while. This month, we will have been under a global pandemic for 40 weeks; the . . .
This year I've become more introspective than ever about the passing of time. We've had time to watch the bluebird build its second and even third . . .
In most years, Thanksgiving in my family begins with a series of emails. We coordinate food, sleep accommodations, birthday celebrations (we have 3 . . .
A few days ago, I took my kids to a local peach orchard. It was morning, the humidity was low(er) and Graham needed to crank out some work, so out of . . .
Like many of you, I have spent quarantine time cleaning up and organizing things long-past due. One of those is a box of pictures I have carried with . . .
Last week, I found a note from Henry's preschool teacher tucked away in my desk. As I read it, my heart quickened. I remember that feeling of getting . . .
I just left a second voicemail at the hotel in Maine we were supposed to visit for my 40th birthday in August. The governor recently declared that . . .
I've been quiet on the blog the last few weeks. None of us has lived through a pandemic before and to be honest, I didn't know what to say. This . . .
Yesterday, my nine-year-old twins went in for their well visit at the pediatrician. We ticked through all the health items first: what are they eating . . .
Titles used to mean a great deal to me. When I worked as the marketing manager of a private school, I desperately wanted to add the word director . . .