For most of my life, I’ve danced along a duality. I’m biracial — my father is black and my mother is white.
As I get older, I’ve found the last few days of each month to be a time of regret and guilt. It’s generally the busiest time in publishing, and I tend to be so wrapped up in my work that I completely neglect my personal goals.
Since my first blog entry, I’ve been a bit overwhelmed. The trouble is, however, I didn’t really notice until my esthetician asked me today when I saw her for a facial. I think I’ve become so good at being busy that I’m never really still. I can’t just sit and be. When I watch TV,… Read more »
I’m a mess. It’s January 30th, and I’m standing on frozen White Bear Lake with my husband, Kyle, and his friends, who are about to jump into the frigid water for the Special Olympics’ Polar Plunge. But I can’t jump — not because I’m afraid (although I’m not expecting to like jumping into a frozen… Read more »