Sit back and let me tell you a story about how enlightened I am. Last month I wrote this cute little piece about how my Jeep (aka The War Rig) taught me a valuable lesson about attentiveness. At this point, you're gonna wanna go back and read it if you haven't already. Don't worry....I'll wait... Ready for the punchline? This
After her mom died in February, Joann found some comfort in returning to her own crafty roots. She's a crochet wizard, but decided to try her hand at beading. Mostly earrings. The detailed focus was therapeutic. After some compliments from friends, she put a few pairs on Etsy. It took no less than eleven days for a stranger across the
Since I haven't been around here much, I thought it may be useful to catch you all up on some goings on for the last few months. I'm inventing a new thing called Bullet Blogging which I think is like bullet journaling but I'm not really sure because I've only heard the phrase but don't really know what it is.
Last week I celebrated five years with the War Rig. I have a thing for Jeep Cherokees (this is my fourth). She's wearing about 205,000 miles and I think they look good on her. Here she is with her namesake. Can you see the resemblance? A few months ago, a rather important mechanism in the War Rig quit: the part
Since becoming Milagro, one of the things I struggle with most (other than people who drive 35mph on Metcalf where the limit is 45mph) is "skin care" (yes. in quotes. on purpose.) How do we do spa the way we want to do spa while avoiding the black hole of BS that is "skin care"? From rohitbhargava.com I
I updated our website today ALL BY MY BIG GIRL SELF and I didn't even break anything. I think I may run for president. One of my favorite business-y life lessons I'm learning is: just make a plan. And then figure it out. If I wait until I know everything I need to know to do something, I will likely
Some days I feel like the luckiest girl. I walked in the door at Milagro this morning and let out a huge, HUGE sigh. It felt so good to be here. It feels like my safe place. My home. And after a crazy few days or a crazy week or a crazy few months in my life, coming here makes
We said goodbye to Grandma last week. She was 94-years-old. Ninety. Four. Born in 1922. History is not my expertise, but I would doubt there's a generation that's seen the world change as much as she did in her lifetime. She met Grandpa when she was a car hop at Ritz's Ice Cream at 17th & Jackson. She was 14.
The first Friday in March will always be Tumor Day. Eight years ago, a small crowd of doctors and nurses came behind my curtain in the emergency room and told me it was large. It was in my chest. It was on top of my heart. And it was probably cancer. One week later, on Friday the 13th, we got
Right before Christmas at a family dinner, 60 Minutes was on in the background and I sat down to watch their feature on The White Helmets, a civil defense group in Syria that rescues survivors from the rubble of bombed out buildings. It was heartbreaking. "Why do you want to watch this, Aunt Ash?", my 9-year-old nephew Carson asked. I