If I’m going to leave my babies for five whole days, it had better be for an absolutely perfect reason. …Okay, let’s get real: this mama hasn’t slept solo in years. So when I discovered the Northern California Writers’ Retreat involved several consecutive evenings without diapers or nightmares or snoring, I thought, I do not…
I’ve battled an epic case of writer’s block these last several months. It’s not that I don’t have ideas — I do, dozens of them, phrases strung together into haphazard lists on my phone and in the notebooks littering my house. It’s that none of them seem important enough. Facebook and Instagram and Twitter teem with…
This is a post about irony. Well, mostly. The last couple weeks have demonstrated that an alarming number of people are super confused when it comes to identifying the underlying theme of something (which makes the English teacher in me curl up in a ball and sob a little bit). So this time, I feel like maybe it’s important to…
This is the post AFTER the post that sort of went viral. The headline should actually contain a question mark and a hefty dose of even more uncertainty: “Um, I’m Not Totally Sure…But What DOES Happen When Your Post Goes Viral?” Like, I’m asking you. This isn’t a how-to. This is a legitimate question. What am I supposed to do? I guess…
Actually, this is the story of how Gwyneth Paltrow un-paralyzed me. She doesn’t know this story. We are not friends. I mean, no doubt she’s perfectly pleasant — although people sure love to hate her for allegedly being an out-of-touch wackadoo — but I, for one, am grateful for her accidental guidance toward a ridiculous epiphany. At the writers conference last…
For two weekends in a row, I have not slept in my own bed. This is unusual for a homebody like me — who has handpicked my perfect pillow-top mattress and appreciates when all my stuff is in one ultra-organized location — but for the first half of February, I’ve been a traveling fool. We took our first-ever…
Remember that giddy anticipation you had when you were four years old on Christmas Eve? And every few minutes you’d run to the window to search for Santa’s sleigh and listen for bells? And then when your parents finally made you go to bed, you squeezed your eyes shut REALLY REALLY tight and willed yourself to sleep, but it just…
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