(That's me and my people.  They are my favorite things ever.)

Other than diving continuously and often irretrievably into my head, I like to spend my hours with my two truly lovely children and my how’d-I-get-so-lucky husband.  We live in Western MA, in a pocket of pure, gorgeous goodness. 

I have lots of tattoos, each a reminder of important things – love and grief, the seconds I have here, alive.

I birthed my babies at home.  I’m really happy about that.  They seemed good with it, too.

I like to think about my place in the Universe, and then sometimes get distracted and end up on the People website.  I seem unable to control this.

I get a little (a lot) crazy for good food.

Someday I’ll learn how to properly apply a full face of make-up, and maybe that’ll be the same day I buy myself a super schmancy pair of designer sunglasses. 

I often listen to the same music on a constant loop, all day long.  Music is holy to me, Mumford & Sons sent straight from the heavens.

I try really, really hard to tell the truth.

I make so many mistakes; I am constantly searching for lessons.

I often fall short in being the kind of friend to my people that they are to me; I’ve been granted an astoundingly patient, loving, fun, and insightful group.  I'm working on this, natch.

I’ve started to believe that we’re all the same.  And that me telling my all-the-way truth might make someone else feel safe enough to tell theirs.

And that maybe the world can shift in increments if we don’t try to change each other, but instead work hard to hold space – for truth, for fear, for differences.

For love.