Photo credit to Keith M This morning, we woke to celebrate eighteen years together, eighteen years of saying I do.  Babysitter teen children watched the youngest as my man and I strolled by rose gardens, tinkling fountains, and clanking sailboats in mirrored city skyline lakes. He unfolded paper thin.  “I woke up thinking these words…

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 Rain clouds slide nearer, and a damp blue creeps across my lawn and window. The air cools visibly, and tree branches ruffle silently. Unfolded laundry stacks precariously on the couch behind me, and the house is still as naps or room-projects claim my children.  Earlier this week, four year old Daniel holds up tiny chocolate…

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Good morning! Grab a cup of coffee and join me. Moist pear tart mingles with dark roast coffee, and I admit that this is my second pastry this morning, leftovers from a Bridal Shower this last Saturday. Nine women, old and young, circled in an off-white parlor. Delicate dried lavender sprigs crested our rolled napkins,…

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“The lies grow big in me when I’m angry,” he admits. Slight shoulders hunch high near black hair on a honey-colored neck. His mom listens, and they talk side by side, as the miles hum below them. My boy yells loud from a tall cream-colored loft. “Noooo, me not sleep, Mom!  Me get up!” Tantrums…

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“Remember me?” he asked. The biker in yellow reflective jacket parked his bike at the end of the driveway, and started towards me.  “Hi, I do.” I grinned amicably to the older gentleman behind me. I first met Carl the Can Man a few weeks ago—then too I was prying stubborn weeds from between my…

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It’s the court case of the century, of the millennium. Standing tall, he addresses the jury, calling out to them as impartial silent witnesses.  It’s a three-part conversation, playing out on a grand scale.  God speaks first.  The witnesses he appeals to are the strong silent type: stalwart, of few words, fly-on-the-walls–types for centuries.  …

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 Have a work presentation coming up? Getting started in public speaking? Or as a student, do you hate oral presentations?  As my speaking calendar is filling in for this next year, and I reflect on how much I love sharing with women, it occurs to me that not everyone enjoys public speaking. If that is…

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Pontoons and fishing boats hum through the channel at low throttle. Rubbery lily pads bob in the waves at the shore, sliding slyly further out into the channel. Green and red-throated humming birds flit tentatively closer and then swoop brazenly within a foot of my face, jeering me to stop them.  Between kayaking, Speed Scrabble…

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“Aren’t they going to think you’re weird, Jen?” he asks. “Traditionally, people bring food to the new neighbors, not vice versa. Won’t they feel obligated to reciprocate?”  “I don’t know. I think it’ll be nice,” I reply, “and I want to share these cookies with them. My parents do things like that in their neighborhood.”…

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