Hoarders, Electronic Edition: Life in the B-Roll

I got the dreaded notification: My iCloud storage is full.

My first impulse is to buy more storage, though I wonder if I'm like a hoarder renting a new storage unit: Am I avoiding a deeper problem? Do I need to get better at letting go?

I teased one of my friends for carrying a painfully outdated phone because she couldn't part with the photos on it - thousands of them. I've had my iPhone for 9 months and now I understand her pain completely. The hardest part is deleting the B-Roll.

Can you play me a memory?

Today, Evie played in her first piano recital. She and a handful of other young musicians visited a local senior center and played for the residents. Evie was the youngest performer there, and I was so proud of her.

Watching her perform brought back memories. It reminded me why I was so insistent that she start piano lessons, and why I'm so grateful that she is enjoying herself.

The journey begins: Adapting a centuries-old religious tradition to suit my personal growth goals

Buckle your seatbelts, folks. Today, I begin 40 days of blogging.

But, wait! Isn't Lent the time when Christians simplify their lives and say farewell to things like chocolate or Facebook?

I admit, I'm stretching a bit. Lent is the season of solemnity, repentance, and self-denial, and blogging is fairly self-indulgent. Despite my Googling, I can't find any Biblical or historical traditions to support the religious validity of my approach. I don't even know if Episcopalians are supposed to give things up for Lent. 

The Nevada chapter

"If you want to learn journalism, work for a small town newspaper."

"The sky is bluer out west."

These two ideas took hold of me 15 years ago, in my senior year of college. The first was shared by a professor, the second by my friend during a spring break driving tour of large, rectangular states. It was on that trip I declared, with the certainty that only a person in their early 20s can muster, "Whatever happens to me after graduation, I'll be OK... as long as I can see mountains."

12 things I didn't understand about my parents until I had kids

1. They knew when I was lying, even if they didn't always call me out for it.

2. When my mom let me sleep with her on scary nights, it was as much for her comfort as for mine.

3. My dad wasn't just being contrary; he truly couldn't fathom why anyone would like that song or pay that much for those jeans.

Two Questions for Fargo

When I visit a place from my past, I always carry two questions: What has changed? What remains the same?

This week, I'm in Fargo. So I asked.

My high school now has a water slide, but the strange dome on top of the building remains.

How I spent my summer

The summers of my childhood were LONG. I remember a vast expanse of  hot days stretched out before me, wide open and full of boredom and wonder. I explored the woods behind my house. I played Atari and watched Nickelodeon and worked on jigsaw puzzles. I went grocery shopping with my mom and I called friends in the middle of the afternoon, asking if they could play.

My friends and I rode our bikes to Mini Mart to buy New York Seltzer and Whatchamacallit bars. We rode to our grade school and played on the playground, slightly weirded out by the ghost-like building, quiet and closed. We played endless variations on tag and hide-and-seek. Our parents let us stay out until the sun went down - and although Fargo wasn't quite the Arctic Circle, we felt a bit of the magic of the midnight sun.