Ever find yourself fantasizing about what you might write someday, if you just had the space or time? If you answered a remote yes to this question, and you happen to live in the Bay Area, then I have a gift to give you. My friend Susie Meserve, who also happens to be a riveting… Read More Giveaway! Writing and movement workshop!
If one more effing person apologizes after sharing a sad, difficult, upsetting part of their lives with me, I’m going to scream. And my shriek will leave a tiny crack in the shell of robotic positive thinking that our happiness-obsessed culture shrouds us with. I’ve written about this before, and it’s no surprise that I’m… Read More Gratitude: the friend who just doesn't get it
The song “Swing Low” is currently on the nap and bedtime rotation for me and Cal. Every time I get to the second verse — you know, “…looked over Jordan and what did I see?” — Cal pulls back from our snuggle and looks at me earnestly and says, “Angels?” It’s happened a good handful… Read More A band of angels
There’s a price I pay for ignoring myself. A million tiny times a day. I’m bored at the park but I go anyway, because the boys want to. And I sit there on the bench and feel a little less alive. I want to read my book, but I wash the dishes instead, because it’ll… Read More There's always space
Some pretty mind blowing stuff went down for me in September that I’m only just beginning to articulate. I went to this rad women and kids communing with nature power weekend with Jo. We ate and sang and played and learned and gathered around the fire together. And once Jo got his bearings, and he and a… Read More Energetic Boundaries 101
My phone has been beeping its phone face off for the last few days. Months ago, something automatically set itself up on my phone (this happens more often than you would think) to brrriiingg this magic wand sound anytime someone likes or follows my blog. Over time, it’s turned all pavlovian. I hear that sound and my… Read More Welcome! and The Food Convo
I will never let another pair of pants tell me I’m fat again. This from the mouth of my friend Rachael, as she speared another piece of perfectly roasted cauliflower off of the plate in front of us. We met for drinks, Rachael and I, and as the fathers of our children readied our kids… Read More Learning to feed my hunger