cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
I stood in the spotlight, strumming the first four chords I’d ever learned on guitar over and over and over again. I couldn’t remember the first note of the song. I’d been playing guitar for over ten years, having played in front of people hundreds of times. A minute went by. Another minute passed and no notes came. One…
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Back from an elongated, dreamy time of rest, colleagues want the highlight reel and the curious want the story.Typically, I’m challenged to distill epic into bullet points, but not this time. There is a story to tell even as it still works out meaning in my heart.
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Twilight was settling over Paris as we emerged from the Metro to walk to our apartment on Rue de la Fontaine au Roi. A cloak of lavender sky was settling over our final day in the City of Lights, and we felt serene and satisfied. Well, almost satisfied. Reed and I had a craving for…
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I used to hop in a car and agree to go anywhere. Long dusty road trips or short last-minute excursions—I was game for either. Armed with Slim Jims, Oatmeal Creme Pies, and gas station coffee, we grabbed our play lists and went wherever we wanted. From the outside looking in, it was a compulsive exercise…
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Jumpy. That’s how I felt—like a skittish deer who thought she could make a break for the other side of the freeway, changed her mind at the very last second, and leapt back from the road to narrowly avoid a semi truck.
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