April 22, 2015

Move


You can say what you want or do what you want or make what you want or draw what you want or write what you want or be what you want.

And, unless you let it, it won't matter if people think it's good. Or if people think it's right. Or if people think it's worthy.

Then one day, instead of inciting a reaction, you'll move somebody, and that will make all the difference.

April 16, 2015

2:00


It had been almost a year, which could feel like forever on some days, but is actually very little time in the grand scheme of things. Though she moved through a normal rhythm and recognized faces on the sidewalks, there were moments that the long and narrow apartment struck her more as some hotel room in a place she was visiting than home yet. 

There were things to count on though. That spring would come, for one. That the winter which had seemed unending while it seeped through all of March would be defeated in April and the earth would come awake. What she hadn't been expecting was how good that would feel, like she'd never really felt spring before she'd felt it after that first New York winter. 

Now she could throw open the windows in the afternoons to hear the rustle of the budding tree out back. And just like she remembered she could count on the changes in seasons, she learned that she could count on 2:00, when the jazz ensemble would practice with gusto from some apartment just below hers. In any other place, it might have proved an annoyance. But this place was a dream land where branches in bloom make long, narrow apartments feel like tree houses and where rambunctious musicians play private jazz concerts for audiences of one mother resting in the privacy of her own home.

April 6, 2015

Firmoo


The life of a mom revolves around convenience. Functionality. Practicality. Perhaps, in my former life, my sartorial choices were less casual. It wasn't so much that style was pain, but that I was willing to forfeit small bits of comfort in the name of fashion. Now to find chicness in simple, comfortable dress is a happy accident--or just the natural by-product of wearing mostly black.

My favorite mornings are the slow ones. I lounge in bed just a bit too long, shuffle through chores still in my pajamas, and, if I'm particularly lucky, sneak in a quiet cup of coffee at the kitchen table. These sleepy days are the ones where my hair gets thrown up on top of my head and I don't bother with contacts or much make up. I actually call them "my glasses" days. They're the days my routine and my eyes get a break.

For a few years now, I've had the chance to work with Firmoo and try out several pairs of fun glasses. Since I'm not an every day glasses wearer, it's a treat--one of those happy accidents--to don something different, funky, and fun on my glasses days. 

This is my latest pair, and they just might be my favorite yet. The design looks high-end, with finishes and coloring neutral enough to coordinate with most anything in my closet. But the neon orange tips and just the right touch of nerd-fabulous, make wearing glasses, which is normally more a habit of my laziness, feel like a true style decision. Firmoo frames are completely affordable, so I don't worry about doing the real mom-work wearing my glasses, and it's easy anyway with a perfectly matched prescription, lightweight feel, and great fit. 

I can say from experience that glasses from Firmoo are a great buy. If you're a first time customer, shop here for a 50% off promo code.


This post is sponsored by Firmoo. I received free glasses as compensation. Words, images, and opinions are my own.

March 17, 2015

Pauses


There are lots of different ways to pause. Because sometimes pauses are good. Sometimes you need a little break. Time to clear your head. Time to rest your body. Time to let your soul sit instead of search. In fact, pauses are part of the natural order (see: hibernation, Sabbath, and etc.).

Sometimes, however, pauses are bad. Sometimes pauses are hiding. Sometimes you suddenly and without warning lose the courage or the gumption or the energy to keep going, to keep fighting, to keep sharing, or what have you. Maybe this is the type of place where you need a rest-pause but accidentally do a hide-pause. Maybe that's confusing.

Also confusing can be when the line between the two blurs a bit. You start out resting and then you rest for a good long while and then you forget what it was like before the pause and then you start to worry about what it would be like to un-pause and then you write run-on sentences.

The point is, it is mid-March, and though there's a teensy bit of snow in the forecast for the weekend, my heart seems to be telling me that I survived my first New York winter. This is the point because I was paused and then I was hiding and then I realized that it was February (and the beginning of March basically counts as February) and maybe, as my friend put it, I was just cold. 

So, as I managed to say much more eloquently a few springs back, welcome back to life! To the unpaused! To the out in the open! 


February 25, 2015

The Eighty Twenty


I was very honored to be asked to contribute to the first issue of the new The Eighty Twenty magazine. The publication is available for digital download and hard copy (long live print!)--click through here to order this beautiful publication and peruse a few pages of my ramblings on how motherhood is cleanliness. Yes, really!