Little Miss Neurotic

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The tile in our kitchen is not very comfy. How do I know this? I fainted during an anxiety attack and my back got to meet the tile personally. Let me paint a modern Normam Rockwell picture for you: it was four days before Christmas and I chose to let the kids eat whatever they wanted wherever they wanted because I was exhausted. So as the youngest kids ate their dinosaur chicken fingers in the living room, I sat in the dining room with my oldest daughter and her boyfriend.

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New Year, Same Old Bugaboo

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Years ago, I found my third-grade report card. In the comments section on the back, my teacher wrote: Talking in class and keeping her desk neat are Stacy’s two bugaboos. I felt that the teacher informed my parents of my weaknesses in a very polite, sweet way. Under my teacher’s comment, my mother responded in her typical no-nonsense way: There will be improvements or I want to know. (Cue ominous sounding music.)  

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P.S.- I Hate You

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This time of year rolls around and I am forced to mourn the passing of my beloved summer. Long, sunny days are replaced by breezy afternoons, changing leaves, and the essence of the devil’s testicles. Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say “devil’s testicles”? I meant, pumpkins. And by essence, I mean spice. Continue reading

A Circle of Friends

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Look- I do have friends!

Dream Together

My friend, Stacy Ryan, an aspiring and inspiring writer, surprised me with a visit last spring along with our dear friend Dana. Subsequently she wrote the following piece about Denver, dreams, and friendship.

Although the story is a glimpse into my personal life it really captures the underlying principle of friendship that guides what we do at Wild Dream Walks. It’s a balance, much like Stacy writes, between having friends who see the world as it is and having others imagining what it could be, with us. That’s the power of our community. People, sometimes even strangers, who offer a listening ear to someone setting out on a big journey, or helping each other get stuff done at a work session for entrepreneurs and creatives, or one of us leading a wish workshop for our elders. We gift our listening ears, our helpful hands and steady steps towards what the world could be all the…

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C is for Cocktail

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“Who reads to you at home?” That was the question asked to our son by Ms. E, his amazing Kindergarten teacher.
“My mommy and my daddy read to me,” B said. “Well, my mommy reads to me when she is not going out with Kim.”

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