Books & Links

and it’s the thing I spend most of my free time doing. Here are some of my favorite blogs and the books I recently and am currently reading.



Olive Kitteridge (Elizabeth Strout)
Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith (Anne Lamott)
The Embers (Hyatt Bass)
Time of my Life (Allison Winn Scotch)
After You (Julie Buxbaum)
World Made By Hand (James Howard Kunstler)
Divisadero (Ondaatje)
How I Became a Famous
Novelist (Steve Hely)
The Sun Also Rises (Hemingway)
Perfect Life (Jessica Shattuck)
Home Game (Michael Lewis)
The Crowning Glory of Calla
Lily Ponder (Rebecca Wells)
Bad Mother (Ayelet Waldman)
Free Range Kids (Lenore Skenazy)
Changing Planes (Ursula Leguin)
Anathem (Neil Stephenson)
Healthy Child Healthy World (Christopher Gavignan)
Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
Bel Canto (Anne Patchett)
Snow Crash (Neal Stephenson)
Better (Atul Gawande)
The Concrete Blonde (Michael Connelly)
Comfort (Ann Hood)
Here if You Need Me (Kate Braestrup)
The Audacity of Hope (Obama)
The Senator’s Wife (Miller)
Bel Canto (Anne Patchett)
Snow Crash (Neal Stephenson)

About Me

I AM A WOMAN, daughter, mother, sister, wife, friend, and writer. I am also a runner, a sometime yogi, a disillusioned MBA, a reformed nailbiter, and a proud natural redhead. I struggle mightily to find a coherent sense of self in all of these splintered identities.

I am strong (I delivered both of my children without any pain medication) and I am weak (I get really sick at least 3 or 4 times a year). I cry every day, possibly more than I laugh (and I want to change this ratio).

I grew up moving around every five years, which left me with a contradictory combination of restlessness and a deep craving for stability. I’ve been to most of the countries in Europe and only about ten states. Home, though, has always been where I live now. This is where I was born and this is where my family always returned. It is where I live now with my husband and two children.

I am troubled by my inability to live more presently, which makes me keenly sad about the passage of time. The way that my children mark the inexorable movement of time is something I find very difficult; this bittersweetness is sometimes almost unbearable This blog was started in part to record some of both that struggle and the moments of incandescent joy or laughter that I don’t want to forget.