You know the feeling. When you can relax a bit. Let down your guard. When you are given the benefit of the doubt. Where people just “get” you. Fitting in is a different vibe. You might feel a bit tired after those interactions. A little nervous. Not sure you said or did the right thing. You may need to dress differently, talk differently, suppress your needs, laugh at jokes you don’t find funny.

Elizabeth Strout, who is best known for her novel Olive Kitteridge, came to speak at my local bookstore. I bought my ticket quickly because she is a bigshot in the book world and the event, already moved to a larger venue, sold out fast. One thing that surprised me during her Q&A was how often she shrugged her shoulders and said “I don’t know”. It was very endearing and I loved her honesty and humility. 

Sometimes the only way to learn is to mess up. To do the wrong thing. To jump in and attempt to figure it out. To live and learn.

My brain may be developed—at least my frontal lobe is—but neuroscientists have made the radical discovery of neuroplasticity.

I became a mother at 29 years old. One of the first in my cohort. When my friends visited me during the first few weeks of motherhood, I watched them leave with envy. Are they headed to a bar, a restaurant, out with friends? It was my old life I was grieving. I was shedding my skin as a 20 something absorbed in young adulthood. I was growing new skin. The skin of a mother.

My son Hudson is graduating from the University of Pittsburgh this weekend! He is my youngest, so I am saying goodbye to undergrad for my kids forever. My daughter Gabrielle graduated from Bates College in 2023 and is starting graduate school in September. But graduate school is nothing like undergrad, so I must take a moment to acknowledge that another stage of life is behind me.

Every morning, after letting my dog Willow out a half dozen times and filling her bowl several times, she finally sits down next to me on the couch with a satisfying huff. Her chin eventually resting and her eyes softly closing. Then I take that deep breath as well. We made it. This is what I look forward to.

Springtime can feel discombobulating for some: cold-hot-cold-hot-cold-hot. Waking up and needing to check the weather to see if you need to put on shorts or a winter coat. Personally, I love the back and forth. After a few warm days, I welcome the cold and vice versa. 

In my Wild Writing® Teacher Training, we are reminded before we write that there is no need to perform, no need to entertain. We are reminded that everyone in the room loves us already. Ahhh, deep breath.

In my Wild Writing Teacher Training, my incredible instructor Laurie Wagner teaches us to say “yes” to what is arising. When we write, never letting our pen leave the page, we are told to allow whatever comes up. This can sometimes be strange, or scary or unexpected. But we are instructed to let it happen. To keep going. To get curious.

In an interview with the wonderful Leslie Jones she brilliantly reminds us “Life is Gonna Life”. Yes! Preach it! Life is gonna life. We cannot stop that.

And this is what I am learning. Life is going to life, AND we can be kind to ourselves during a tough time.

What do you need to DO?

They say…

That you are too old or too young to find a job, or you have too large of a gap in your resume or you are too experienced or not experienced enough or that you have been in your prior job too long or too short

They say…

Just showing up I got to see my friend Sharon, host extraordinaire, celebrate Shabbat with her lovely family. Her homemade challah (actually two of them), hearing her daughter say the hamotzi (the blessing over the bread), her gorgeous kiddush cups. Watching Sharon make us a delicious dinner with aplomb. Walking around her bountiful kitchen lined with dozens of cookbooks. Waking up to European-style coffee made on her fancy coffee maker with a million levers and tools that brought me back to a cafe I visited in Spain last spring.

After watching the show Pluribus, I see the difficulty of having Chutzpah. Ahhh how easy it is to go along to get along. Carol knows down deep in her kishkes (a deep, gut-level feeling or intuition) that things are not right. That the world isn’t better just when it is easier. That the friction of life IS life.

I attended a powerful and meaningful vigil for Renee Good this past weekend in my local community in Maplewood NJ. Leadership spoke about how we can make a difference as individuals and as a community. One of the speakers said “community is a verb” and that resonated with me. I am watching people step up around the world:

Grab a cup of cocoa, a pen and paper, warm socks, a cozy blanket and situate yourself in front of a roaring fire with holiday jazz music playing in the background. Now close your eyes for a moment. Take a deep breath in. Exhale. It’s time to imagine 2026.

I had so much fun putting together these gift bundles. Since I had such a big reading year, I thought it would be fun to work my bundles around some of my favorite books. I have included links to Bookshop to buy the books. Bookshop gives money to local bookstores whenever you buy a book from them.

My kids were home for Thanksgiving and we shared many happy moments. They are at an age where we can have meaningful conversations about the world. I feel a sense of wonder as I watch how thoughtful they can be about issues, how we are willing to learn from and challenge each other and the sense of humor we share. I think about the numerous meals we have shared as a family over the years and appreciate how far we have come.

As I hear people lament the emergence of cold weather and say goodbye to the heat of summer, I quietly celebrate. My pale Eastern European skin is thrilled to no longer be lathered in sunscreen. My love of sleep is welcoming the early sunset. And, my menopausal body is relishing the crisp morning air.

I am part of a wonderful group of women who are moms and business owners. We meet once a month to talk about our businesses (and about our kids, our spouses, our vacations, our lack of sleep and other peri- and postmenopausal symptoms, and local happenings.. you know the drill). I have known these women for about 10 years, so I would venture to call them “new” friends. At a dinner recently, Heather, a “new” friend and member of the group, remarked about how patient I am. When she said this, I was stunned and immediately argued with her that I am actually incredibly impatient. Or at least that’s what people have told me much of my life. Then, when I got home from our dinner, I thought about what she said. Maybe she was right. Maybe I am patient…..now.

Phew! It happened! My dad celebrated his second Bar Mitzvah this past Saturday.

When you’re dealing with an 83-year-old bar mitzvah boy and grandchildren who are living around the globe and childhood friends who are octogenarians, there’s a constant worry that it will not all come together. Thankfully, it did. Four of my dad’s grandkids showed up in person and three over Zoom. My son Hudson even wore a kippah and collared shirt while he watched the service from his college bedroom. My mom, who is not a morning person (understatement of the century) was there with my dad at 9:20 am sharp. And my nephew, who is in New Zealand for the semester, zoomed in at 2:30 am his time. No one wanted to miss this big event.