My husband and I have a dog, Roger. He scares easily, hates being alone, and yawns more frequently than any living being I’ve ever met. We have big love for this little pup. However, one of the most miserable experiences to share with Roger is driving on the highway. He hates it. The car goes too fast, the noises are too loud, and there are no sufficient places to hide. When we make the 5-hour drive to visit our Chicago-area family, Roger’s anxiety takes up most of the space in our . . .
Hellooooo from sunny Mexico! My husband and I are on vacation this week (all the hallelujahs), so the person I can always count on to step up and help me out has agreed to share on my site while I break for beach time. Enter: my Mom. She's the best. She's a wildly accomplished writer, an actor & director, and one of the most loyal friends I ever did see. She loves the people in her life so well and I'm always honored to be a chip off the old-is-relative block. Welcome, Mom . . .
I’m 33 today. Thirty-three! That’s only 7 years away from 40, and 47 years away from 80. So I’m basically 80. Just kidding. I know I'm not ancient, but I do feel older. (Have you ever noticed that older people telling you you're young isn't really helpful? We all feel older when we reach a new age!) So I've decided that I love 33. I’m embracing it. I’m welcoming it with warmth and kindness, mostly because I don’t have a choice—33 is here. It’s been about a decade now that I’ll arrive at my . . .
“Are you alive?” This was my greeting when I answered my husband’s phone call a couple of weeks ago. I was in California for the wedding of a good friend, while Darren was back in Ohio enjoying the debut of bright sunshine and summertime temperatures. I knew he would be riding his motorcycle home from work—he’s not one to waste a beautiful day’s commute inside of a car with nonsensical additions such as doors and windows. He knows I appreciate confirmation of his safe arrival when he rides . . .
I dream a lot of dreams. For my life and for the world, yes, but like actual in-my-sleep dreams. I have them often—vivid ones, that stay with me throughout the following day(s), sometimes months. I've said a lot of goodbyes. Some I anticipated, like the death of my Grandma, and I was able to speak a final parting word. Others came unexpectedly, such as in faded or fractured friendships, and the spoken goodbye was not necessarily an option or a success. Instead, it has come through years of . . .
In the beginning days of our new life in Ohio, I found it best to stay VERY, VERY busy. This was a helpful tool in completely avoiding my loneliness/fear/collective feelings/writing. I felt unstoppable in unpacking and setting up our home, just the seven of us working away for hours at a time! Seven of us? Wait, what? OK, so I guess I should mention that during the days of unpacking, I was accompanied by six old friends. They’re the “tried and true” type of friends. They have been with me . . .