Hello, friends. No long post this week as I’m diving into my new job—and trying to do so with gusto and gratitude.  Here are a few things in my toolbox today: Eucalyptus and green mandarin essential oils in the diffuser. WNCW streaming through Alexa. Iced tea (no sugar). Dove dark chocolate (yes, Sugar). Occasional peeks out my “office” window. What’s getting you through the week?

Hans Christian Andersen would have been 216 years old this month. Remember him? He wrote “The Emperor’s New Clothes,” “The Ugly Duckling,” and “The Princess and the Pea”—a favorite of mine as a child. In honor of his birthday, I re-read “The Princess and the Pea.” I have to say I was underwhelmed and am struggling to remember what drew me to the story in the first place. I must have read or seen some adaptation, like this one . In Andersen’s original story, the prince wanted to marry a princess. (Nothing new there.) During his travels he found several princesses, all with deal-breaking attributes. One stormy night back home a young, waterlogged girl, claiming to be a princess, knocked on the door. She didn’t look like a princess, so the queen tested her nobility by placing a single pea under her bed—a stack of twenty mattresses. The next morning the princess came down to breakfast, less than rested. She complained that she hadn’t slept and had been bruised by something under the bed....

Last Saturday was a beautiful day for a wedding, a virtual one. A dear friend married the sweetest fella on the banks of the Chesapeake. The setting was perfect, pandemic or not. The handsome groom stood next to his gorgeous bride as they looked out over the water. A handful of family members sat behind them as they made the ultimate commitment to each other, getting a fresh start as a married couple. The minister’s words were encouraging and hopeful, as they should be. As someone who has been married for a while, I appreciated his words about vulnerability, encouragement, and grace. I needed reminding. He didn’t only speak to the betrothed, he spoke to all of us and handed out loving marching orders on how to lift up this young couple. I’m paraphrasing here, but he directed us to give them space and grace as they get to know each other. At first that struck me as odd. Shouldn’t they know each other before getting married? Well, yes and no.  Yes, you should know someone well enoug...

She’d tell you how to make chicken casserole but "forget" to mention the chicken.  That’s how I described my mother. At her funeral. I said nice things about her too, of course, but this brought the most smiles to the pews. We all knew the woman was stingy with a recipe.  When I’d ask her how to make a favorite dish she’d say, “I’ll make it for you.” I felt bold once and replied, “When you’re dead and gone, don’t you want us to make your recipes and lovingly think about you?” She simply smiled, unfazed and unpersuaded.  A few years later when she had terminal cancer and knew the end was coming sooner than later, I summoned her to my kitchen with all the makings of a roast. Finally, I thought, I have her cornered; she’ll have to come clean. As I seared the beef in my grandmother’s cast-iron skillet, Mama scanned the back of the shameful seasoning packet I’d bought in desperation. Like a purr she said, “I think this is how I do it.” Lies. That day was not the first time I h...