Never Trust a Fart. This Is Why.

Frankly, I’ve had a lot of luck with farts over the course of my lifetime, and, not to brag, but I’m a pretty good farter, socially speaking. I mean, I know how to gently eke one out in public situations to see how it’ll develop, clamping down quickly if it’s too voluminous or odoriferous or loud. Or, alternatively, letting that sucker rip if my audience is my 9 year old boys. I got cocky, I guess, is what I’m saying. And my successful farting career lured me into a false sense of security. ...  read more

Wish You Were Here

I’m away at the Oregon coast this weekend for the Magic in the Mess Writing Retreat, one of my favorite times of year because I get to talk writing and messes and serendipitous magic — three of my passions — with my friends. 

Sometimes, people feel like they need to remind me people are not my friends if we haven’t met yet, or they’re not friends if we’ve only met online, but they’re wrong because we’ve shared our hearts and our stories and some of the truest truths we know, sometimes for years IMG_8542and years, and I know no better definition of friendship than that. ...  read more

THIS Is Why We Shouldn’t Teach Kids to Be Themselves

My friend, IMG_8513Valerie, and I carpool to get her sweet girls, age 6 and 9, and my twin, 9-year-old boys from school.

And these 4 kids are friends. I mean, real friends who can’t wait to hang out with each other and play and don’t think the other gender has cooties.

HOW CUTE IS THAT, you guys? AND HOW GOOD ARE WE AT PARENTING, right?? SO GOOD. We are SO GOOD at parenting to make this happen! We deserve awards and gold stars, and someone should put us in charge of global parenting programs. ...  read more

4 Reasons I’ve Embraced My Mental Illness

The space under my covers is dark and a little humid and smells like the first rain after a dry spell, all musty and muddy and heavy air, except with a hint of smooshed Cheez-its and old dryer sheets, which I know because sometimes I put my head underneath and pull the covers tight around it and wonder how long it’s OK to stay there before I run out of oxygen. ...  read more

UPDATED: My Boobs Broke My Washer

Look; it’s been a rough season for appliances in our house. I don’t know if we’re doing appliances wrong, or if appliances aren’t built for 47HundredMillion people to use them ALL DAY LONG, or if I’m modeling Breakdown / I Quit / I HONEST TO GOD CANNOT DO ONE MORE THING behavior, or what; I just know this is the house where appliances come to die terrible, terrible deaths, and we can pray for them. ...  read more

On Being Married 21 Years

Today, Greg and I have been married 21 years.

TWENTY ONE YEARS, friends, which, as we say around here, is a lot of years not to smother someone with a pillow.

Twenty one years, which means our marriage is old enough to drink and doesn’t have to keep having its older friends buy it booze.

TWENTY ONE YEARS, which is ALL GROWN UP by, like, EVERY measure, you know? Our marriage can drink and it’s been able to vote and die for its country for years. I mean, our marriage can’t rent a car yet, but still, it can make questionable choices in evening wear and pick guys up at the local bar. It’s mostly grown up, is what I’m saying. ...  read more

What Are You?

Hi, friends.

I’m working on swimming my way back to the surface. Watching my meds carefully. And my sleep. And trying to give myself a break for being human. Depression sucks. And it lies. And it sucks. But mostly right now it just makes me weary.

I’ve begun a dozen letters to you in the past 2 weeks. I haven’t finished any, but beginning them feels like a step on the way to the surface. ...  read more