Hello, everyone—I’m back. I came back to my computer! Small step for (wo)man, giant leap for Mallory [after the week I had]. I wrote a little post that received a big-to-me response and it took me on quite the roller coaster ride. I was encouraged, stretched, challenged, humbled, and oh my word, so insulted. Some people act really big behind their little computer, feeling so free to hit “Send” after typing a colorful array of demeaning put-downs once they read something they disagree with. . . .
I wrote this post several weeks ago but never made it so far as to hit “Publish”—mostly because fear is loud and avoidance is relatively easy. But I haven't been able to stop thinking about all of this, so I'm posting it now. Even if Brock Turner may seems like “old news,” the essence of this piece is, in my opinion, still very relevant. I very much welcome your comments, but please keep them respectful and constructive. As always, I'm so glad you're here. A while ago, I came across this . . .
Hello, from California! I'm on [what I think is] my final trip of a busy travel season. A dear friend is getting married in San Jose this week; I'm honored to stand with her as she embarks on this next chapter with her man. Because I only had less than a day between trips, I called in the reinforcements to help push out a blog for this week. Just another example of why it's awesome to have a mom who is an author—I mentioned I needed a guest post, and one day later it was in my inbox. What a . . .
I am feeling all sorts of weepy this week. It is our first wedding anniversary. We’ve done our introductory lap around the sun as husband and wife. Today, I spent half the morning in the card aisle at the store (and then I left empty-handed, because why pay $5 for someone else’s words when I can write my own for free?) I’d love to come up with all of the most meaningful thoughts to write to my husband but, right now, all I can think of is: Dear Darren, Can you believe it?! Love, . . .
I had a strange experience with my couch the other day. It is an inanimate object, I know, but, on this day, I looked at the oversized brown couch, as I do every day, and thought, “I cannot believe you’re here!” If you didn’t know that my husband and I moved from Washington to Ohio last fall, then you’re probably new here (in which case, welcome!). I’ve written a lot about this great big transition, mostly because I think it’s how I’m finding hope, help, and home in this great big . . .
In fifth grade, my best friend and I decided to dress up as twins for Halloween. Because we didn’t mess around with things of this nature, I went so far as to get my hair cut to match the length of hers. Now I’m not exactly sure where things went awry at the hair salon, but what happened is too many inches of my hair were left there. When my best friend came over the next day, she stood in the doorway looking at me. Her hair was below her shoulders, mine was at my chin. “Oh,” I said with . . .