What else is blogging for if not the daily, seemingly inconsequential minutiae of everyday life?
I’m in the mood lately to make lists. Not simple bullet-point lists, but a compendium of thoughts, memories, images. Lately my head’s overstuffed with consciousness, and putting and organizing thoughts down somewhere makes it feel better. I call it a librarian’s impulse, or an archivist’s urge — maybe it’s because I’m older and I want to sort through the stuff of life so far as I head into my “next act”? I don’t know, but that’s what I’m doing here — making my own little #MemoriesDreamsReflections. First up: dreams! I love dreams. I’m not talking about the aspirational “things I
Maybe it’s a literary version of wishful thinking, but lately the only thing I really want to read as a new mama are rock biographies and memoirs. Parenting books make me feel anxious and overloaded, I don’t have the attention span for serious novels these days and anything truly new in terms of non/fiction feels very “in one ear, out the other” if it’s something I don’t have much prior knowledge about. (My new information absorption abilities have been seriously challenged since early-onset parental insomnia, as I call it.) But rock books are easy: I usually know a bit about