cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
It was one of those Saturday morning moments for which I long. Both of my girls were in their playroom, happily occupying themselves (without screens!). There were no sounds of whining, fighting, or Peppa Pig jumping in muddy puddles. It was blissfully quiet. And it was that exact quietness that allowed me to more quickly…
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My critical eye takes in my form in the long oak-framed mirror as I tuck the billowy white top into my jeans. On principle, I don’t wear white. “White” is my lunch, make-up, and pit stains on display for the world to see. It’s impracticality, stamped with an expiration date.
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Our oldest son turned 26 this year. All day, as often happens on our kids’ birthdays, I found my mind returning to the day he was born. At two weeks overdue, I was SO ready for him to be born – though we didn’t know yet that he was even a “he.” We went to…
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