I sat on the stone wall with my feet dangling over a long drop. Spread out before me were the dazzling reds, pinks and purples of the painted desert. The colors swirled and swooped in graceful arcs across the desert hills. Behind the glowing hills, 120 miles away, rose dark jagged peaks topped by the piercing blue sky. I was alone. For twenty minutes I munched on my lunch admiring the painted desert.
On vulnerability, emotional completion, and learning to notice when someone lets you in.
*as seen in North Canton Living Magazine I stood at the bottom of the hill staring upward at the mass of cactus soaring more than ten feet tall. Each cactus with arms in the air pointing towards the...
On red flags, complicated histories, and learning that I don’t have to know what everything means right now There is a very efficient attorney living somewhere inside my nervous system. She does not...
I opened Facebook Dating looking for a little sizzle. I found fish, trucks, and a constitutional question. I decided I might be ready to date.This realization did not arrive with trumpets,...
*as seen in North Canton Living I stood at the bottom of the hill staring upward at the mass of cactus soaring more than ten feet tall. Each cactus with arms in the air pointing towards the...
On letting grief testify without handing it the gavel. Two days after the breakup, I missed him terribly. Not in some dignified, wistful, gazing-out-the-window sort of way. I mean I missed him....
I recorded my first videos about my Constitution project. They were terrible. Maybe “terrible” is unfair. But there was bad lighting. Stumbled words. That slightly alarming experience of seeing...
I was on FaceTime with my daughter for my granddaughter’s birthday when the conversation turned to an upcoming trip she was planning. She was telling me where she was going, how far apart things...
*as seen in North Canton Living Magazine I bundled in layers and securely tied my hiking boots. The trail wound between rocks disappearing into a bramble. I scrambled up the rocks to view...
Every journey has a beginning. Mine doesn’t start with turning the key in the RV or crossing a state line. It begins here, surrounded by moving boxes, campground maps, garage sales, spreadsheets,...
*as seen in North Canton Living Magazine I pulled into the parking lot confused. It was clearly a hotel yet the sign said “National Civil Right Museum.” I was visiting on an earnest recommendation....