On the last night of my Daddy’s wake, my brothers and I shared a few words with family and friends, who shared in our grief, celebrated our father’s life, and told us of the wonderful man he was to them when he was still alive.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been the kind of person who honors traditions. I stick to the same plan every year, never really changing what I’ve grown accustomed to doing growing up.
As I’m nearing the end of my mid-30s (I will officially be in my late-ish 30s next month), I’m finding that there are still many, many things I could care less about. I recently shared an old The Everygirl article about things that get better after 30 and had a couple of people reply about
words from mae’s “Our Love is a Painted Picture” A year ago, today, I left my 12-year job in digital publishing, where I was working for a website I considered my life’s work. I lived and breathed our website for the better part of that decade. That meant the brand was basically my lifeblood. When
When I was in high school, I had a website where I chronicled my life. From the most mundane details of what I ate for breakfast to what song was playing as I typed up my entry, I felt compelled to share it with the world. I don’t think it even really mattered if anyone
Always make time for the things that matter. Two of my favorite things in the world: making things with my hands and the ocean. These are some of the books I’ve worked on in the past 3 years. If there’s anything that gives me joy, it’s when I’m making something. Whether it’s a batch of
Who hasn’t taken a piece of paper and mindlessly doodled on it? While on hold, while daydreaming, while waiting for something. In high school, I was the girl with the bursting pencil case filled with every kind of gel pen: metallic, neon, chalky pastel. My filofax (LOL) was filled with colorful notes of the day’s