February 2019

I used to think that forgiving someone was an event. You forgive someone. They get a clean slate. One and done. I don’t believe that anymore. I have a deep and persistent fear of becoming a bag lady. As one […]

(Some posts are harder to write than others.) My mother likes to get cards in the mail. I like to give cards. It’s a good combination. Because Valentine’s Day was coming, I stood in front of a wall of pink

Last week’s question about choosing to see the world differently led to this one: What if I saw myself not as what I was, with all my stories, but without them? Who would I be if I weren’t who I

I have been gifted with wonderful teachers. Some of them were bosses, some colleagues, some friends, some authors. One of them, a boss, once taught me about blindspots. This is the gist of what she said… “Jule, there are two