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Make Your Mark

Posted on October 15, 2011

I’ve learned a few things in the past couple of years. Some lessons have been deep: I am mortal. Some have not: These lips and lipstick don’t mix. The thing that has been life-altering has been the realization that in daring to be passionate about something, I surpass my own perceptions of what I can and can’t do. When I doggedly pursue a goal for something I believe in, what I end up seeing in the reflection of my face and my deeds is potential. As I raise three daughters with my husband, I want to project possibility and the idea that we really can make a difference. So, how do you do it? How do you move past being the mom who can’t…

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Monday Ever After

Posted on October 10, 2011

I saw a tweet quoting Marion C. Garretty: “A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost.” It comes as Grandma and Papa are visiting, which of course makes me think of my sister. The truth of that quote shimmers before me, as just hearing her name uttered, whether it is, “Abbie” or “Ab” or “Abigail” the screens of my childhood come quickly to the front. The light is honeyed with the fondness time brings, but every detail seems to come back—where we were, how we laughed, what we said. Watching three new sisters weave in and out of one another’s moments of play, I can see the tender replays they’ll get, no matter what happens over the decades I…

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Goodbye Steve Jobs.

Posted on October 6, 2011

You captivated and inspired us. You connected us to places we couldn’t go and sparked ideas of new ways of doing things. My girls associate the apple with possibility, it has taught them and kept them company. They don’t know it, but they get that from you. Thank you forever for the possibility you gave us, but even more now, with your passing, the push to create even more. Steve Jobs, February 24, 1955 – October 5, 2011

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I Want to Learn

Posted on October 4, 2011

Finley learned to cluck with her tongue the other day. You know that little sound you can make by pressing your tongue against the top of your mouth and down? Cluck. I hear it everywhere we go. Cluck. She entertains herself with the sound. Cluck, cluck, cluck. A shared milestone has been reached and a rare tolerance is being practiced. She startles us. CLUCK! Her sisters don’t make a peep about it, as if there is an unspoken acceptance of accomplishment. And so we go about our days. Cluck, cluck, cluck-cluck-cluck. Cluck. There is always someone getting the hang of something in our house these day. “I think I might be in-tuh-rested in soccer,” Briar had said to me nonchalantly Friday afternoon. “Really?” I asked.…

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