My children are learning about straight lines. About the concentration that goes into a straight line. Not the continuous path laid by a pencil’s sacrifice, but the intermittent punches of…
Category: <span>Intentional Living</span>
When the first note–the wrong note–soared out of her violin, I stopped breathing. She stood in front of the audience of strangers, of other children fingering violins, guitars, and piano music, and…
Extrovert-me takes longer to wake up than introvert-me. I’m fairly balanced, personality wise, between the extrovert and introvert, and while introvert-me looks at the dividing line between the two zones with…
If you could see us, a group of women battling the pernicious “baby weight” war of life, you’d also see a flock of children swirling around us, perhaps on us, like a firefly…
“The days are long, but the years are short.” This is the kind of anonymous quotery that gets stuck in my maternal craw, and no matter how I hack at…
6:47 am. Sister-giggles crack the night into morning. 7:06 am. A suspect flees the scene. A victim’s cries echo throughout the house. 7:08 am. Whining court commences with dad as…