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“We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” ― Joan Didion, writer, journalist and storytelling master I have an obsession with stories — the ones people tell about themselves, the ones people tell about others, and because this is my…
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One’s destination is never a place, but rather a new way of looking at things. -Henry Miller Some months ago, I went to the Women’s March in Washington. Leading up to the march, I mentioned on facebook that our house…
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When I was five years old, Santa brought me a canopy bed for Christmas. After a few minutes of awe, my mood turned suspicious. “There’s no way that thing came down our chimney.” At nine, I knew I had no…
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I’m on an airplane somewhere over Arkansas heading to Los Angeles. The pilot just announced we passed Little Rock about 10 minutes ago. The flight attendants are walking down the aisle holding up bottles of water. I’m reminded of the…
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It’s nearly fall and while this season has a way of kicking up scattered memories, this year it’s kicking extra hard. It’s kicking up memories of awkward adolescence. I have two kids in middle school this year—one just starting and…
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Maybe it’s a mid-life crisis. Maybe it’s symbolic. Maybe I’m simply returning to my roots. Whatever the cause, I have taken flight. Some weeks back during a very rainy spell where we thought we’d never see the sun again, I…
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My age is showing. Sure, there are physical signs. I have more gray hair, fine lines, and a growing midsection. But all that can be changed with dye, a better moisturizer, and some Pilates. That is, if I care to…
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It’s sometime before midnight in London, and we’re walking along the streets of Soho. People have poured out of the pubs, restaurants, and theaters and onto the street. If you look hard, every so often you can see hints of…
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