listen to teens

When I was 17, in 2002-2003ish, I was part of a high school walk out to protest the Iraq war. We made duct tape arm bands, political flyers and signs, and being a group of over achieving kids in the midst of college application cycles, we coordinated with school administration and our parents. Radical? Effective? World-changing? Doubtful, but I do know that I was fortunate enough to be surrounded by adults who let it happen. Many of whom, didn’t really get it or didn’t necessarily agree. I recall a teacher asking me, “don’t you think the president and the people at the pentagon have a better understanding of this than we do?” and thinking, “probably not?” in only the way a 17 year old can (spoiler: I think 17 year old me was probably right).

That same year I was also part of a Students For Choice group that brought abortion providers and patients breakfast on Friday mornings – the day our area Planned Parenthood performed abortions and the day the very loud and very angry anti-choice protestors would swarm the entrance. We tried to take brunt of the yelling for them, escorted people into the clinic, and brought doughnuts. I did this for my entire senior year and at the time it really, truly, felt like no big deal. In retrospect, I can barely imagine doing this today. I similarly remember adults around me worrying that this was dangerous, and my having an extremely blasé attitude about it.

When my mother was in high school the school board in Omaha, Nebraska passed a rule allowing women to wear jeans to school. Sadly this was not 1912 and is relatively recent history. Regardless, my teenaged mother heard this on the local news and wore jeans the following day. She was told to go home and change, and she fought back, citing the new rule. This story had a significant impact on me as a young woman. First, it was the initial spark of my bone-deep belief that most forms of dress codes are a tool of oppression that disproportionally impact women, those living in poverty, people of color, and youth – and are also also tools of dehumanizing sexualization.

Second, I learned that most of the time old people are wrong about stuff.

I am now an old person. Not like, actually old, but old in the eyes of a teen or 20-something. Worse yet, I’m a professor and administrator at a college. I am the grown-up tsk’ing and saying, “you don’t know what you don’t know.” And that is true. Teens and 20-something absolutely have no clue what they haven’t learned yet. I am not the same person I was 20 years ago (honestly, she was a mess) and that change happened slowly over time as I was challenged, and grew, and learned. I’m still changing (I hope).

BUT, and that is a very important all caps BUT, that lack of context for the general shittyness of the world also leaves room for gleaming notions of morality. There is openness for optimism, hope, and possibly most meaningfully, rage, in a way that is extremely difficult for me to cultivate now. I know, firsthand, how hard it is to change things. In my 40 years I’ve mostly seen the world continue to be cruel, and apathy has crept in. Thank goodness they don’t know what they don’t know.

This is not to say that their rage and their optimism is wasted or void of meaning. Despite my creeping apathy, I too actually believe things can be better. In the same moments that I’ve learn how hard change is, I’ve also seen growth and success. Set backs and wins. I keep pushing and struggling – but have I slowed down? Has my privilege as a white woman with a steady career allowed me to disengage in a way that marginalized people can’t? Absolutely. I need to look past my glaring cynicism – for them, for my kids, for the planet. I’ve taken to looking to my students for hope. The late-teens and 20-somethings in my life.

In my field (the law and academia) there is a general refrain of “young people sure suck these days.” As a notion, it is regressive and lazy. Do our students have the life experience we have? No. Does that make their opinions and experiences less valid? Also no. My understanding is not a validity test. I don’t need to fully understand their reactions for them to be valid. It is my job to challenge our students and help them grow. It is my belief that it is also my job to listen to them.

At 17 I was surrounded by adults who said, “you feel strongly about war and body autonomy. ok. do something about it.” That energy has been a cornerstone in my life. I owe it to the young adults around me to listen and consider their rage, their optimism, and their joy. They give me back to me tenfold – and I’m so grateful to them.

I wish my generation had done more for the one behind us.

I wish we’d left them a world that was more peaceful, environmentally stable, and kind.

We didn’t – but were also not dead yet.

i’m a bad guy

So, I’m actually not a bad guy – at least not in the stories in my head – but if you lead, teach, or practice law you will always been someone’s bad guy. Someone’s professor who didn’t care enough. Someone’s boss who asks too much or offends them. Someone’s attorney (or opposing counsel) who ruined your life.

When you step into any measure of control or authority, you will eventually be the villain in a story someone is telling their friends and family.

…and that sucks. I just want to be really clear here, this sucks. I don’t want to be someone’s villain! I care so deeply about what I do. I want our students to all feel challenged while also being supported. I want them to understand and follow procedures, while getting curious about why things work they do, and challenging the status quo. Recently another leader I work with, in a much higher position than mine, faced some pretty searing criticism of their leadership. They were sincerely impacted and hurt by anonymous words in a survey.

Of course, of course, feedback is the currency of academia and valid feedback should be internalized and reflected upon. However, sometimes, no matter how much you care or try – you’re a villain. I have faced decisions on issues that were deeply important to the people I serve. Often, even if I don’t regret the decision and would make it again, I feel awful that someone out there is angry. I had to say “no” to something a someone thought they were entitled to, do my job, and now I’m loathed. I’m their bad guy. How can we cope with that?

First, we can forgive or re-think all our own former bad guys. That professor who refused to waive the deadline? That middle-manager who wouldn’t let you park where you wanted? I’m not saying forgive them, but maybe re-think them. There were rules and procedures throughout my education I railed against. Some of my rage was valid (fuck off high school dress code). Some of it, though, I just didn’t understand. I made the self-centered assumption it was in place simply to punish me. I wasn’t curious enough to ask “why?” in an open way. Sure, those leaders could’ve communicated their “why” a little better, but I can own my part in their becoming my bad guy. I can show empathy I didn’t have then.

Second, I can hold my “why” a little closer. Why did I make that decision, set that boundary, hold that level of accountability? Usually its because I know the world outside of the college will be even harsher, and not even tell you how you’re screwing up. I may still become a student’s villain – but my why is more important. I’m here to prepare future attorneys, and doing them favors that judges, co-counsel, opposing counsel, partners, and CEOs won’t do, doesn’t prepare them for much.

Third, I can have language ready so that when I’m transforming into someone’s bad guy, I still act in a way I’m proud of. This happens when I know I need to hold a boundary, and I know its going to make me sound like a bitch, but I can at least sound like a smart and calm bitch.

For example, frequently students will send me an email that asks me something that is covered in the syllabus or elsewhere. Sometimes these are as simple as what time class is, the room number, or something else that is available on the college’s schedule and in the Dean’s Office. These emails really get to me. Why? Don’t give other people work because you didn’t take a moment to really ask yourself. Before you send an email, look for yourself. You’ll save everyone time. I also suspect senior male faculty get fewer of these hand-holding requests, but I digress. In most environments, if a junior person sends this kind of email to a senior person two things happen: (1) its ignored and goes unanswered or (2) they answer, but are frustrated. Either outcome diminishes the professional relationship. So, here is my sample reply to these emails…

“I am always happy to answer questions, but I do request some shared problem-solving effort. I covered this information in orientation or its available at XYZ, etc…”

I don’t usually provide the information. Please don’t read this as me discouraging asking questions – I definitely do not – but you have to show some effort. Tell me how you did try to find the information. How did you prepare before asking me these questions?

I have more of these canned responses for other types of interactions – the interactions that lead to the “bad guy zone.” No one wants to get that email. The email that implies: this was a stupid email, work harder. But I can rest more easily knowing that even if I’m in the bad guy zone, it’s because I was working to make them a better lawyer.

Fourth, sometimes being the bad guy is out of your control. Those are actually nice moments – this hard decision isn’t on me, even if I’m the face of it. In either instance, I try to handle it with as much empathy as possible, without slipping into validating any crappy behavior. I find simply making gentle eye contact and saying, “I know this sucks and I hear you” and keeping the, “but we really can’t change the whole college’s course schedule just for you” helps… though maybe sometimes they should hear the whole thing.

Fifth and finally, do a check. Were you actually cruel or mean, needlessly? If you were, make it right.

Regardless, you don’t just get over it – or at least I can’t. People pleasing is in my DNA. It sucks. I want to help everyone. I feel like a failure when I don’t help every person who asks for it to the greatest degree possible. However, I am but one woman. I can not do that. I’ve tried, I’ve cried, I’ve set boundaries on what I’m willing to do or compromise, and I’ve had to accept that some people won’t like it. They’ll say I’m not doing my job well, or supporting them enough. It hurts, but I know what I can do, and I do it.

I got the advice recently, “you can’t do more for them than they’re willing to do for themselves” and I’ve really been holding that in my mind. There are few people out there to whom I am the bad guy. In some cases I fully deserve it. In the others, I probably wasn’t intentionally trying to do them wrong, personally.

In sum, I have no actual advice with how to cope with the reality of people thinking you suck and personally wronged them. Honestly, it’s probably good if it bothers you to some degree. What I do know is that every person you know is someone else’s bad guy. Deserved or otherwise, interacting with other’s doesn’t always result in sunshine and rainbows. It’s part of the human condition – we suck sometimes.

It’s not special to be disliked, and in way, that makes it a little bit easier to swallow.

failure lessons

I have talked a lot about failure and how common it is. How failing is good for us, teaches us, etc. I’m not alone in this line of rhetoric, in fact I see discussions of resiliency, failure, and grit everywhere these days. I am also cusp-GenX (technically a millennial and probably align more there) but I remember enough of the 1980’s to be skeptical and cynical of any and all corporate-sounding-buzzwords too. All the, “celebrate failing” inspo posts had me eye rolling. But yet, I still believe. My failures DID help me.

To address this bifurcation between rolling my eyes and believing, I decided to look beyond the buzzy words. Sure, failure taught me some stuff, but what specifically did it teach me?

Let’s give it a shot. 5 specific lessons I’ve drawn from very specific failures:

(1) Talking about studying/work, stressing out about studying/work, and planning time for studying/work are not the same as DOING THE WORK. You can lose hours and hours this way, and I sure did. I started to glean this lesson after the first year of law school. I felt like I was endlessly at library working, but my grades didn’t reflect that effort. I had to ask myself, was I actually doing the work, or was I just talking about how much work I had to do while physically located in the library? Those things aren’t the same. I still get caught in this loop from time to time. I’m grateful to those shitty 1L grades that taught me this. My kids now get to hear this constant refrain anytime they procrastinate and complain: Do the work and the work will be done!

(2) You can never really know what someone is thinking or what dynamics are working in the background. In my pre-law-career days I interviewed for a program coordinator position that was web development heavy. I was certain that I bombed it. I still remember how bad I thought it went. They offered me the job that afternoon, and I worked there for 3 years. I’ve also had a situation in the recent years where I was considering leaving the university for this gig I really wanted – like really, really wanted. I had three (3!!) interviews, and they all went SO WELL. We ran over time chatting, we connected and planned, etc. I didn’t get it. They hired someone from their Board. That person absolutely deserved the position and is fantastic – but the experience underscored the lesson – you never really know what someone is thinking or what relationships and dynamics are working in the background.

(3) Working really hard for something and/or wanting it very badly doesn’t entitle you to it. This feel wrong based on every training montage from a movie you’ve ever seen, and it kind of is, but it’s true. When I failed the Bar Exam in 2012 it I missed it by 12 points (on a curved exam). I had really done a lot of work, maybe not as much as I could have, but a lot. More than enough, for most people, anyway. I was pregnant and panicked and I studied constantly. I had friends and study companions (though none of my core-study group) that, to be blunt, didn’t work as hard. They passed. I failed. THE INJUSTICE. Here’s the thing, the injustice didn’t do anything to help me. I now use what small platform I have to loudly tell everyone how antiquated, gate-keepy, and irrelevant the bar exam is (JUSTICE!), but I had to accept that in that situation how hard I worked and how bad I wanted it simply didn’t matter. It usually doesn’t.

(4) A huge part of success is just showing up. I made it through one semester as a college freshman, was put on academic probation, and shortly into semester two I opted to cut my loses, drop out, and start working full time. Now, obviously, this story has an academic happy ending (IRONY!) but my biggest issue with classes at 18 years old? Just showing up. I tasted freedom and I ordered seconds. There was no immediate consequence to just blowing it off, so I did. I now know that a huge portion of success is just being there. Most classes I could’ve squeaked by with Bs and Cs just by being there and listening. I of course, also had to the learn this lesson in other contexts, but the main point is, opportunity comes to those who are standing in the room to hear about it. Show. Up.

(5) Trying to act like someone else makes you unlikeable, looks dumb, and undercuts your capabilities. When I started my position as an Executive Director, my title was about 15x bigger than my responsibilities and skills were, but I was hungry. I wanted to prove myself and really “do something,” ya know? Our Dean at the time was a woman from New York and I really admired her. She was frank, to-the-point, and didn’t mess around. I wanted to be just like her, and I tried to emulate her in the way she ran meetings, spoke, and communicated. … I looked like an idiot. I was young and new and acting like a “boss lady” just made me an annoying 27 year old know-it-all. I’m also extremely midwestern, folksy, and chatty. I was not built for the conversation style of New Yorkers, much as I appreciated it. At a certain point I conflated this failing with the assumption that people wouldn’t ever take me seriously, so I sort of gave up the act. I just started being folksy and myself, because screw it I was bad at this anyway, so just stop trying. But then, THEN, it worked. My authenticity built relationships and trust, which led to opportunities. Leaders can and should look and sound different. My pretending act was obvious and made me come off as immature, vaguely pathetic I think, and worst of all inauthentic. I was not designed to be formal or stoic or rigid. My superpower became my friendliness. Now some people think me too informal, and that’s their call, but even in those situations it is better to be authentic than to appear as if you’re playing pretend and undercutting your authority.

Probably important to note here that failing still sucks, and it hurts, and it feels bad. I cried real tears and carried metaphorical baggage over every thing on this list, plus dozens of others not listed. Sit in the suck for a while when you need to.

Grit doesn’t mean you’re immediately fine (that, I believe, is something more like disassociation, or burying things, or … maybe go ask someone at BetterHelp).

Grit means you take the time to recover, sulk, process, whatever, and then make decisions about potential next steps or new plans.

grades + counseling law students.

Each year the College of Law provides a one-on-one professional coaching session to our first year students after their first semester. I participate in this program as a coach and have 30 minute sessions with around 10-15 first year law students each January. In addition, due to my roles at the College, students meetings take up a very large portion of my time – I spend most of January in one-on-one meetings with students. Thankfully, I am, at my core, a people person. I’m curious and nosey. This part of the job is a much more natural fit for me than the research, much to my editor’s dismay.

Particularly with the first year students, but true among them all, grades are a major point of discussion. I can only recall two meetings in the recent few years where a student actually told me they were pleased by their grades. Only twice, out of hundreds of meetings, did someone actually (a) experience real pride and joy in their academic performance, and/or (b) own that pride and express it. That is… distressing.

I could soap-box about the use of strict grading curves (I am not a fan), the traditional modes of assessment used in law school (also not a fan), the wide-spread over-valuing of grades for hiring and professional opportunities (still boo’ing from the peanut gallery), and being told that if I give too many A’s I’ll draw suspicion and review upon myself (I mean, come on). Law school is a gate-kept world, relying on hierarchical history that values certain skills disproportionately, which don’t reflect the full array of talents and skills necessary for a meaningful career or practice. So, I won’t go on, but I could.

Regardless, I take these sessions as an opportunity to look at every one of the students I meet in the eye and ensure someone in this building with a fancy title tells them: “you are not defined by these grades.”

Remember, the math has to math. If 20% of the student body is in the top 20%, well, 80% of you aren’t. Being in the 80% is OK. There are more of you. Strength in numbers!

Its a curve and the spread has to happen. Often the point break between a B- or a C+ is a decimal or two. Do not let that decimal keep you up at night. Do not let it prevent you from going after opportunities. Do not allow it to make you feel like you don’t belong here.

I don’t mean to belittle their anxiety, grades DO matter in our current legal market, but they are a singular and to my mind artificial, marker of success.

Of course, some people actually do fail. In this instance, use that to really evaluate your work here. Is this the right fit? There is absolutely nothing wrong or shameful in cutting your loses and trying something else. There is also nothing wrong or shameful in trying again. I’ve done both, and had been glad for it.

When I started my PhD program in political science, long after finishing my JD, I was so excited to return to classrooms as a students. Guys. Guys.. I hated it. The people and the professors were lovely and kind, and the material was interesting, but I was not interested. I thought about what jobs or professional changes it would lead to, and I didn’t want them. So I stopped. I just quit! I had taken the GRE for this, I wrote admissions essays and research agendas, I was several classes in – but I just quit. I’m so glad. I tried it, it clarified some things, and I bailed.

When I failed the Bar Exam right out of law school, I took a beat. I had babies and financial stress, and just LIFE. All caps, LIFE. But I still knew that the law and legal education was the right path for me. So, 2 years later, I tried again and passed. I took in the “bad grade,” which in this case wasn’t just a C-, reflected, learned, and tried again. No shame in that. If anything, I brag often about my resilience (people love a come-back story, use it to your advantage). I blogged about it back then, too, and it’s also a lot about parenting.

I’m a nerd and a big fan of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer television show. There is a great moment where Buffy or Willow or someone says to Cordelia, “don’t you have any shame?” after she’s said something particularly cruel or blunt.

Cordelia responds, “please, like shame is something to be proud of.”

This has become a mantra for me. Shame isn’t a merit badge; take it off.

This is all to say: grades are just one piece of information. It’s important information, sure, but it’s not a complete picture of your experience, intelligence, and skills. That disappointment, embarrassment, or frustration you’re feeling? Roughly 80-90% of your classmates are feeling it too. You are not alone in this experience.

Only you get to define yourself.

Only you gets to decide what this means to you.

magic science + my salacious 2024 word of the year

While I lean towards woo-woo, crunchy, hippy, self-helpy stuff, I always thought the whole “word of the year” thing was lame. However, some people I really like choose one each year, and then last year we did it at work as a staff activity (because, of course). I kind of got into it. Like everything in this vein, I take it all with a little levity and in context of the situations and questions at hand. Do I love being a Cancer and learning everyone’s zodiac signs? Yes. Do I regularly do some tarot pulls and pay attention to moon phases? For sure. Do I make medical or financial choices based on this information? No.

The thing is, I view myself as a witchy soul connected to our earth and to nature, and as a science educator, and as a technically minded person – I’ve had to reckon with my crunchy tendencies and the whole, “this is harmful, fake garbage” argument for decades.

Science is rooted in human curiosity, and particularly for biology and medical science, in the work of women. Ask me, if I was in labor in 1750, if I’d rather have had an experienced but not formally educated midwife by my side or a male doctor from the church if things went sideways. Anyway, over time, the work of science and study was torn away from lower classes, women, and other marginalized populations, and rebranded as “NOT HOOEY DEVIL WITCH STUFF FOR DUMB PEOPLE, BUT REAL SERIOUS STUFF YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND” (I’m paraphrasing), and then commodified and monetized. While much work and effort has been done to rectify that, to this day I think we feel an abstract pressure to choose. Do you “believe” in science or in holistic practices? Well, both exist regardless of anyone’s beliefs, so stuff-it modern society. I’ll strap on my quartz watch, take life-saving medicines when I need them, meditate, and choose both. It doesn’t have to be either-or.

Scientific method, double blind studies, peer review: yes, these are things I look for in research validity and in my decision making. I look to experts and to those doing the work. Modern medicine, the deeply problematic healthcare system aside, is a champion of human intelligence and creativity.

Do I also look to the power of self-reflection, imagination, and an openness to the notion that maybe we don’t know every last detail about this great big universe: YES, PLEASE. Goodness, how boring and pointless would it all be if we understood everything happening around us? I love the feeling of connectedness to the mysteries of the universe, my purpose, my potential lack of purpose, all of it.

My witchy, earth-centric, habits bring me peace – like rituals, introspection, and belief systems have done for people since the beginning of humans. Mantras, prayers, words – they bring us focus and peace.

So, then I’ve theoretically justified selecting a word of the year to myself. In 2023 I choose “Slow”. It actually helped. My goal in selecting “slow” was to remind myself to move carefully, slowly, and with intention. The email can sit another day so I can give it the full attention it needs. I can spend a few days considering that conference invite. So much of my career has been pedal to the metal. In 2023 I pumped the breaks and I loved it.

Word of year helped me!

In 2024 I’ve selected a word that maybe feels a bit salacious. Pleasure. Pleasure is good for us. I feel time speeding by so quickly and aging has happened more rapidly than I thought possible. I can’t keep myself or my family young (nor would I want to), but I can focus on feeling good while we experience life.

I do mean pleasure in all its forms. Yes, in the salacious connotations (a major perk of being a human, if you ask me), but also in good food eaten slowly, the hyper focus creativity that comes on when working on a piece of art or when writing, the high experienced in the middle of an aerobic workout.

I want to seek activities not because they are “good for me,” I want seek things that feel good to me. The purpose should never be punish myself or hold myself accountable for some assumed moral failing – I want to do stuff because it feels good.

Yes, yes, this has the potential to slide into gluttony and addiction. Calm down and let me explain. For example, I’m doing the whole dry January thing right now – not drinking any alcohol in the month of January. I’m working to reframe this month from, “alcohol is bad and thus you’re bad for drinking it; you pathetic drunk with no self-control; you need a cheesy monthly challenge to make good choices” to, “notice how deep your sleep feels when you do not have wine before bed; see how much more aware you are of how things feel on your skin; notice how dewey your skin looks; you’re not a damaged person who needs a challenge to not drink for 4 weeks, you’re a sexy, dewey skinned woman paying attention to what her body enjoys this month; next month you can spend a few evenings rediscovering and savoring the joy of feeling fuzzy and warm with your favorite wine.”

With every task I approach I want to ask myself, “how can I make this more pleasurable?” How can I bring more fun, joy, and pleasure into the lives of others and my own? Life shouldn’t have to feel like a slog that also somehow speeds by.

I have the extremely good fortune to be aging. I’ve hit middle-age, nearing 40, and damnit I want it to be pleasurable.

Break out the crystals, the good silverware, the nice paints you were saving, the little indulgences, the songs on repeat, the gray hairs, the fancy vanilla for baking, the joy.

Bring on the pleasure.

2023 numbers, hair, and heart

2023 by the numbers…

◦ 203 days alcohol free

◦ 197 outdoor walks/jogs over one mile (really wanted that 200, but, broken foot)

◦ 97 yoga practices (really wanted that 100, but, broken foot don’t bend)

◦ 95 books read (check out my annual book review posts)

◦ 20+ Girl Scout meetings and events as a troop leader

◦ 10 Girls Code Lincoln board meetings, club sessions, and events led and attended as I wrapped up my presidency of the organization (see more)

◦ 8 different hair colors and styles

◦ 7 trips, some near, some further but all domestic this year

◦ 4 conferences, 2 of which I facilitated

◦ 3 pets we had to say goodbye to. Day-Z our 16 year old kitty, Lollipop a 7 year old guinea pig, and Aria a 2 year old chicken; our 17 year old kitty, Mia, is showing her years but remains my ever-faithful familiar

◦ 2 scholarly publications, including my first top 20 school law review placement

◦ 1 TedX Talk (a post!)

2023 by the hair…

2023 by the heart…

I am so incredibly proud of this year. The past few years before were really difficult professionally. I made some pretty big changes in 2022 that paid out in 2023. I know it doesn’t look that way on the outside, given that I still work at the College of Law, but I feel in control of my work and my decisions for the first time, and it’s a joy.

Morgan and I celebrated our 13th wedding anniversary with a huge Halloween party and vow renewal. FYI, planning your second wedding is so much more fun and relaxing than the first time. We were silly with it and I’m glad! Here’s a blog on that.

Our children are growing and becoming their own people. They are so much more than the sum of what we gave them: they are their own and who they are is wonderful.

Peace and love friends!

wild geese: 2023 winter solstice

Each year my family makes a Winter Solstice dinner and we eat together in the dark, by only candle light, in addition to other traditions. Each year I select a poem or reading to kick off our dinner. We don’t do much in the way of formal rituals or religion in our home, but this one is sacred. I picked another Mary Oliver piece for my poem this year. Happy yule! 🌲🌀 🌚

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Mary Oliver
Wild Geese

unpaid work is real work

Semi-regular reminder that our unpaid work can be just as meaningful as our paid work.

The Brownies from Girl Scouts Spirit of Nebraska Troop #20821 completed their Cabin Camper badge last weekend. Initiating this trip and planning it is probably the thing I’m the most proud of doing this year (and I’ve had kind of a doozy of a year). A particularly special moment was after our bedtime story we did some secular vespers. Every girl got to tell us what they liked about themselves. It was so sacred, hearing them share their about themselves, and hearing when their troop sisters affirmed it, “oh yeah, you are so good at art!” These were precious memories made.

I’m intensely humbled by the support of my co-leaders, Tami and Sierra, who brought their enthusiasm for my wild idea and shared their talents to make it better.

Together our girls shared clean up and set up chores, made adorable SWAPS to share with each other, enjoyed a night hike and a cabin pajama party, and got some epic playground time.

Did I go to work tired that Monday? You betcha. Did we do real, meaningful work that weekend? Absolutely.

Full heart, happier spirit.

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anniversary the 13th

In May 2023 Morgan and I celebrated 13 years of marriage. We have a special love of the dark, twisty, and unorthodox side of life. We decided to recognize this particular milestone with a Halloween and horror themed vow renewal ceremony. Celebrating our family, together with our two children, was so unbelievably special and fun. We debated having a Halloween wedding back in 2010, but opted against it because we love the holiday so much. We didn’t want our anniversary to always get forgotten in our Halloween celebrations.

So this year, on Friday the 13th, we did it.

Venue: @talonroom
Dresses (yes I had a custom gown, and Eleanor got a matching skirt): @zaftigkitty
Make up (Eleanor and I): @adriennej_mua
Officiant: @gwyndylynn
Cakes: Jennie Huntington
Photos: @ramey.jpg
DJ: Leonard Shepard

The decor and the details were half the fun! We also did a lot of little nods to our wedding, including using the same poem on the front of the program. We had a (vaguely) wine and chocolate themed OG wedding, and we had made custom DIY wine bottles to decorate each table. We made some more for this event!

Finally, we told our friends and family “costumes encouraged.” They understood the assignment.

a little Bríg

Another tattoo completion post! I have long dreamed of solidifying my love of reading, particularly fantasy and adventure, in some external way. I worked up some images and drawings that inspired the final design.

In the past few years, I’ve also been on a body reclamation journey – learning to celebrate over disparage and find peace and control.

This finished tattoo is my cozy liberation, if such a thing exists.

In my brain, she is the Celtic goddess Brigid (or Bríg), the Morrígan, and a dash of the fairy queen Titania. She’s home, she’s magic, she’s mother, she’s sex, she’s death, she’s learning. It’s a heavy load for one arm.

I’ve been thinking of my three lighting bugs as Mustardseed, Peaseblossom, and Cobweb, Titania‘s fairies in a Midsummers Night Dream.

The first pic is from getting ready for the Renaissance Faire this year and seems like the perfect one to share. But this was my largest tattoo to date – we went through three sittings and progress shots are all included here.

After the final coloring pics, I shared a picture of my original sketch I gave to Cody. I am so thankful Cody Schneider, owner of Scarlett Raven tattoo for bringing it to life so perfectly! This one was a journey, and I was glad to be on it with you, dude.