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I’ve always loved entertaining.
When I married my husband—who happened to be the second oldest of eleven children—I quickly became the unofficial hostess for family gatherings. Most of his siblings lived nearby, so birthdays, holidays, and “just because” dinners often meant preparing for 25 or more people.
If you could peek inside the metal cupboards in my basement, you’d see the remnants of those years: neatly stacked dishes in multiple sets, glassware for every type of beverage, and shelves lined with serving pieces collected over time. I’ve never been a paper-plate kind of hostess. And wine, in my opinion, deserves to be poured into something beautiful…
Grief has its own calendar, marking anniversaries in our bodies before we even recognize them. As certain dates approach, we may feel unexpected waves of sadness, heaviness, or restlessness—often before our minds even register why. This is anniversary grief, a quiet reminder of love that never fades. Instead of resisting it, we can learn to honor these moments with grace. Here’s how to recognize grief’s signals and find comfort in remembering.
Grief changes, but love remains. Each year, my daughter and I honor my late husband, George, with a meaningful adventure—traveling to places he would have loved and creating new memories in his honor. From the mountains of Colorado to the beaches of the Cayman Islands, our tribute has become a cherished tradition of remembrance, healing, and celebration. Here’s how we turned loss into an annual journey of love.
The New Year arrives without pause, leaving little time to reflect before we jump into resolutions and fresh starts. But what if we allowed ourselves a moment to breathe? Instead of rushing into unrealistic goals, we can transition with intention—reflecting on the past, setting mindful intentions, and embracing the year ahead with grace. My word for the year is FORWARD. What’s yours?
Thanksgiving is a time for gratitude, but for many, it’s also a reminder of loss. Whether you’re celebrating with loved ones or carrying memories of those who are missing, finding thankfulness amid grief is possible. By embracing both love and longing, we can create space for healing, remembrance, and appreciation. Here’s how to navigate Thanksgiving when gratitude feels bittersweet.
Hi there! New Year, fresh start to the blog and regular letter-writing to you. I’ve been busy spending time with family and working on this project! It’s finally done and I’m so happy to share it with you!
Here’s the backstory…
Creativity is a curious thing. I wonder if most people consider themselves creative? My answer would be probably, ‘no.’ I don’t know why that is, actually, I think I do know. Somehow the uninhibited joy of childhood expression becomes squelched by adulthood.
We’re all born with the ability to create because we were all created by a master Creator. What I’m trying to say is that you are magnificently designed from the inside out and have a God-given bend towards creativity and creating things. How can there be billions and billions of completely original people in this world? There are. Each of us is individually and audaciously made, created if you will, with a specific blueprint completely unique yet with identical formatting. The function of arms, legs, fingers, eyes, nose, mouth, and the like are common to every human.
I’m feeling discouraged today. Maybe it’s the gloomy weather outside, maybe it’s the quarantine that has me pacing around my house, not able to concentrate on anything in particular. How many days have we been isolated at home? I’ve lost count.
What started out as, “I can do this and get so much accomplished” bravado when we were first asked to stay home, has turned into a deflated sense of “will this ever end?” To tell the truth, today I’m not so sure.
Now that’s a new one. I’d love to see a therapist that specialized in Culinary Therapy. Apparently, such a subset really exists and has appeared as a therapy format, proclaimed highly effective during our pandemic season. Go figure.
I always knew emotional eating was a way of coping, as food has been a go-to when I’m happy, upset, worried, or just bored. Last night my phone screamed for me to “Take Shelter” for a tornado alert. The warning sirene from the fire station echoed the alert so I crawled out of bed (why these alerts always happen at night, I don’t know?)
I met some new neighbors last night.
My community hosts a monthly event at the clubhouse called Thirsty Thursday. The idea is simple: bring your favorite beverage and a snack to share, and enjoy some casual mingling with the neighbors. Though I’ve lived in our neighborhood for over ten years, I’ve never attended.
It’s not that I’m unfriendly or uninterested—I simply hadn’t gone.
Last night, after dinner with the lovely couple next door, we drove past the gathering on our way home. They’re regular Thirsty Thursday attendees and insisted I come check it out with them. I hesitated, but agreed…