I've reached the stage of life where I don’t want ‘more’ — I want to be able to put something down without knocking over three other things.
That's it.
That's the dream.
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Every once in a while, something becomes so popular that it’s impossible to avoid. It’s everywhere—online, in stores, in conversations—and people genuinely love it.
And then there’s me, standing off to the side thinking… am I missing something?
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Last week I was sitting at my laptop with headphones on, editing audio for an upcoming podcast episode. If you’ve ever edited audio, you already know it’s about as glamorous as filing receipts in your pajamas — but I genuinely enjoy it. Somewhere between...
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I was in the kitchen the other day, staring down a pile of dishes, reminding myself of three emails I hadn’t answered yet, and trying to remember where I put the shopping list… when suddenly my bladder chimed in with:
“Hi... yeah... Whatever we were doing here? Cancel it. We have a new plan.”
And just like that...
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Life is short — and I don’t mean that in the cliché “Live, Laugh, Love” way that belongs on a distressed wooden sign at Hobby Lobby. I mean it in the way you feel it when life yanks the rug out from under you and the air feels too thin to breathe.
It has been one year since Eric died.
And in all the grief, the quiet moments, the ruminating I keep trying not to do, there’s this one truth that keeps coming back to me again and again:
