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Oh. I Think I Just Realized Why My Back Hurts Today.

Yesterday, before 8:00 a.m., I closed all 800 open tabs in my internet browser, shut down the ol’ desktop for the first time in months and set it on the floor, and then said a little pseudo-prayer before heaving my hunk of a desk up onto my thighs and wiggle-walking my way through one narrow doorway, down the hallway, through another narrow doorway, and then collapsing into my sunroom. Read the rest of this gem…

Though I’m Pretty Sure They Were Tears Of Joy.

“So are you the mom?”

The face from whence the question came looked so youthful. So innocent. But apparently that didn’t stop me from wanting to curse it to a lifetime of rosacea and adult onset acne, or perhaps watch it grow hairy warts and wrinkle prematurely, right there in front of the White by Vera Wang ultra tufted tulle. Read the rest of this gem…

For Meg. (And, If I’m Going To Be Honest, For Me.)

When writing a blog, some of us put a literal — yes, literal — piece of ourselves out into the world, like a fish tossed to hungry gulls. Sometimes it’s nonsense. Something silly, with the intent to entertain. And sometimes it’s real, an investment, a feeling exposed. And sometimes, at the end, we’re left feeling like that carcass picked clean — tugged and torn with bones laid bare and yet strangely, still, immensely loved. Read the rest of this gem…

Five Weddings And A Foodgasm. Hopefully.

Honestly?

It’s weird to admit, knowing what I know now, but I kind of subconsciously thought that the wedding phase of Justin’s and my life was officially behind us. Without even realizing it was happening, we had fully submerged ourselves into the baby shower phase. If you’re in your early thirties or beyond, you likely know what I mean — that phase when all of your friends start drinking the Kool-Aid and suddenly the majority of your conversations revolve around nipple latching and mucus plugs rather than summer travel plans and recent favorite reads. Unless those reads were about nipple latching or mucus plugs. Read the rest of this gem…

Three’s Not A Crowd, After All.

Well.

Now that we’re 34 and 32 respectively, I suppose Justin and I are officially “in our thirties,” which is weird because nothing has really changed since our twenties except that our hair is falling out (yes, mine too — if you know how to make this stop, please fill me in) and now we have a roommate. Read the rest of this gem…

I Think My Fortune Cookie Is Trying To Mess With Me.

This weekend I’m starting a class about food writing and photography.

That is to say, I’m taking a class that’s going to show me the proper way to pull my iPhone out at a restaurant and snap a photo of my plate. Because apparently there’s a right way to do that, and the way I’ve been doing it since they stuck cameras inside phones is obviously completely wrong. Read the rest of this gem…

I Honestly Didn’t Know I Had Sweat Glands There.

Be in the moment. Be in the moment. Beinthemoment. 

A single droplet of sweat carved a lazy trail from the top of my shoulder to the crook of my elbow, meandering across spring freckles and around fine hairs until it dropped unexpectedly, as though it felt close enough to the ground to just let go, and landed with a splat onto my purple yoga mat.  Read the rest of this gem…