Words matter or word smatter? You decide.
I hate to be wrong. As much as I love to be right (who doesn't?), I hate to be wrong even more. I have lots of reasons for this, but since they revolve around my self-psychoanalysis, I'll spare you the details. Just know that I viscerally hate to be wrong. Imagine, then, the internal turmoil... Continue Reading →
I love food. For most of my life, creating it has been part of my identity. As an adolescent, I baked. When, as a newly minted adult, I called myself a good cook, my dad countered and said I was a good baker--he didn't really know whether I could cook. So I rose to the... Continue Reading →
I used to blog every day, or at least Monday through Friday. It was how I started my day, and the hours that followed were better for it. That creative jumpstart made me sharper, more expressive, and more aware for the rest of the day. I thrived on it and I didn’t care who read... Continue Reading →
I just found this in some old files. It's something I wrote years ago but had forgotten. I still believe it. What if life isn’t a tapestry, a garment patterned by events, moods, cycles, and stages? Where even a slight change in weave changes the visual effect? What if life, instead, is a collection of... Continue Reading →
What do you want to be when you grow up? How many times were you asked that question as a child? How many times have you asked it? Do you know the answer? It's a tough question, mostly because we feel limited by the labels in some mythic index of occupations. Besides that, things change.... Continue Reading →
Wordsmatter 