18 July, 2016
There is a man who walks around my neighborhood every day, the grandfather of two children who go to school with my kids. He is stout, balding, with curly white hair and a little dog who looks like he is dancing on his tip toes as they move, a contrast in big and solid vs. tiny and nimble.
He recognizes my car now, the one that I use to chauffeur four kids to lacrosse and baseball and skiing. And every time we pass, he gives a wave, a thrust of his arm that is part salut, part friendly greeting. Something about the way he does this is so encouraging. So life-affirming. It reveals some inner strength or hope that he possesses. He seems happy to see us. When he passed in the street while my kids are playing in the yard, he tells them the dog’s name. “Reee-chhhard” he says in a thick Russian …
25 May, 2016
photo from Hearth and Harrow’s Etsy shop
Happy Wednesday, lovely neglected blog readers! As I mentioned in my last post, all of my writing time is going to finished my food memoir and I have been really busy with freelance work in Coastal Home Magazine and New Hampshire Magazine, so you can check me out in those publications too. But I love this space and I am loving putting all these interesting little tidbits here!
1) Just learned about these gorgeous textiles from Hearth and Harrow – so pretty, totally swooning.
2) Modern Mrs. Darcy just posted her summer reading list! I just asked friends on Snapchat for summer reading recs, and the next day I got the email that her popular summer reading post was up. Ask the universe and you shall receive.
3) I have told everyone I know about this podcast, How Seth …
5 April, 2016
This blog has been radio silent because I have been in a cave writing my book. It is a good thing to go into the cave, but I also love reaching out to say hello. So feel free to picture me, looking pasty white, eyes squinting from the sun that I haven’t seen in a long time (which is actually true both literally and figuratively. I am looking at you April snowstorm).
Since the work of writing is sometimes heavy lifting, I am going to keep it light here (and I forsee the need for more light blog posts ahead, hence the Vol. 1 in the title. You probably already figured that out though).
And I am also happy to share that I am planning a few Food Blog posts over on The Humble Onion. Writing about food in my memoir made me miss food blogging so much, so I …
4 March, 2016
I am flying down the snowy trail behind my daughter, Lucy, our first run of a gorgeous day. The spring skiing conditions today at Wildcat – our home mountain nestled in the heart of Pinkham Notch, New Hampshire – almost make up for all the icy, cold, snowless days we’ve had during one of the toughest ski season I can remember. The sunshine is intoxicating and the snow feels like butter under my skis. In a flash, I see her brother, RJ, bump into Lucy, who crashes. When I reach her she is crying and pointing to her leg. I un-click her skis, and we scoot to the side of the trail, out of the way of other skiers.
She’s not seriously hurt, just upset. A ski patrol happens to pass by, and he is silly and distracting when he chats with her. After promises of hot chocolate at the bottom of the run, she clicks her skis …
5 February, 2016
As I ease back into a regular running routine training for the half, I am so so thankful for the gift that is moving my body + endorphins + better sleep. If you have never run before, check out this novice post (I promise all my posts won’t be about running, but if you can’t stand hearing people talk about running, you know where the close button is so click, click.)
I started checking in regularly with one of my favorite writers on running , Kristin Armstrong. I can’t read one of her posts and not go for a run that day. If you have ever met me in person and we have gotten into one of those soul searching conversations, chances are I have mentioned her at some point, because that girl gets deep. And she gets happy too.
When I opened up her new post, I was so glad to see …
27 January, 2016
Photo Source: Pinterest
I love reading these from other people. And some days look very different and way less productive then this one. But I am so thankful for all that this life has led to – the hard, the heartbreaking, and the good.
A Day in the Life of a Writer Mom:
5:30 – wake up, turn on coffee that has been prepped the night before because I just can’t even.
5:35 – run 3 miles. hate the first half of them, love the second.
6:15-7:14 – get kids breakfast and on track to go to school. smile over the top of my coffee cup when I catch my kids cracking each other up with jokes.
7:15 – get the kids on the bus, shower and get dressed.
7:30 – check email, read something inspiring (Blessed Is She has been really reliable).
8:00 – make cheesy eggs for a toddler who will only eat cheesy eggs.
8:02 – realize I’m hungry too, make more …
20 January, 2016
Picture Source: Pinterest
“I’d lowered myself to the notion that the absolute only thing that mattered was getting that extra beating heart out of my chest. Which meant I had to write my book. My very possibly mediocre book. My very possibly never-going-to-be-published book. My absolutely no-where-in-league-with-the-writers-I’d-admired-so-much-that-I-practically-memorized-their-sentences book. It was only then, when I humbly surrendered, that I was able to do the work I needed to do.” – Cheryl Strayed
I have a confession: I don’t hate winter. Sure, it is cold and there’s the constant fear of slipping on ice, or your kids slipping on ice, but all those hazards gives us an excuse to do exactly what I love: pull inside, find some books, light a fire, and make soup. And there is something about winter that naturally lets you slow down to a pace that is excellent for writing.
I should throw out the caveat that …
16 December, 2015
^Baby Slinging With A Smile
It is almost Christmas, and lately I feel so blessed to go through this season with little people. All the magic of hope, all the moments of joy. It got me thinking about the times that motherhood hasn’t been this sweet. When Christmases were a blur of newborn baby or everyone was sick.
Before I became a mother, I looked at the role with reverence and awe. Being a mother seemed powerful to me. So much potential in your words and actions, how they scattered on little people like rain on fertile fields. To be a mother seemed sacred and purposeful. I was very content to work- I loved teaching philosophy and learning and writing. But to be a mother? That was a calling.
Fast forward to actually being a mother. When my second baby was a glorious, pink, ten pound girl with a name I adored and eyes that I adored …
17 November, 2015
Photo Credit: Pinterest
Last night, as we were driving home in the dim light after an electric sunset, my husband and I were talking about the events of the weekend, our hearts heavy over the news from Paris. We were talking about how social media is being used to lure in young new terrorists all over Europe. In my tired state, I uttered, “I just don’t even get the draw that terrorists have for new recruits.”
When I woke up today, I read this from a writer I follow on Instagram:
“Re-read a book I read this summer about a young French journalists’s shocking undercover investigation into how today’s most ruthless terrorists use social media to reach and recruit increasing numbers of young Europeans and trick them into going to Raqqa, Syria, the most bloody city in the world, occupied by ISIS (and strict Sharia law), with the promise of love, spiritual purpose and a better …
15 October, 2015
As you might know from reading this blog I’ve been on a memoir kick, because I am trying to write one, a fact which I hope you’ll forget if I fail miserably. And if you’re a long time reader you know that I was trying to publish a novel with an agent and after a year of trying, no bites. So failing is a definite possibility. But most good writers had the same problem and the same fear each time they started a new work, so I am in good company.
When I recently picked up Mary Karr’s new book on the subject, The Art of Memoir, it was like finding Mecca.
I’m one of those people that thinks everyone could write a memoir. I love hearing people’s stories – seated next to me at a wedding, riding the train, hanging at sports with my kids, the dump. I want to …