To the woman on the track, I am Julia the Librarian. To Mr. Runway, I am the lady in the faded green "Tell your dog I said hi" sweatshirt. 🐶 My 4 a.m. gym tribe is a collection of mystery duffels, color-coordinated headbands, and genuine kindness. We aren't winning medals; we're just winning the day, one treadmill mile at a time. Read my latest essay on the 'Eye of the Tiger' (and the chai latte waiting at the finish line). 🐯✨

Lily was never just a pet. She was my duet partner. 🎶 A year later, the music has stopped, but the rhythm remains. My latest essay on love, loss, and a cat named Lily.

Years ago, I decided to trade the high-stakes world of banking for a career at SeaWorld. I arrived for my "audition" in a suit and heels, convinced that a degree in Theatre was basically the same thing as a Master’s in Marine Biology. I was wrong. Very, very wrong.

My New Year’s resolutions don’t involve Brussels sprouts or pickleball. They involve letting go— of apologies that never came and forgiveness that never will. Turns out, that’s where the real reset happens.

12.23.2025 If you’ve scrolled through social media lately, you’ve probably noticed: glassblowing is having a moment . Every week, it seems like another hot shop pops up offering classes to make seasonal favorites—pumpkins in the fall, snow people in the winter, hearts and flowers for all those romantic occasions. Suddenly everyone you know is holding a fiery pipe, leaving class with something vaguely spherical and feeling very proud of themselves. I love glass art. There’s so

I miss my husbands. The work kind. This is a love letter to Wing Men, steady partnerships, and the people who always remembered the ice.

Apparently it’s gender-reveal meltdown season, and I have thoughts. About dads, daughters, expectations—and why pink confetti shouldn’t send a grown man into orbit. 🎀🔥

Apparently the afterlife comes with floral rivalries, penthouse suites, and décor competitions I did not sign up for. 💐⚰️ New essay about cemeteries, legacy, and learning to unclench—just a little.

Some people bring joy when they enter a room. Others bring… a word count. This one’s for anyone who’s ever survived coffee with an Extrovert With No Self-Awareness (EWNSA). ☕️😵‍💫

11.19.2025 Recently, I attended a high school production of Almost, Maine by John Cariani — a sweet, charming script that holds special meaning for me since I had the opportunity to direct it “back in the day.” The kids did a wonderful job. It’s not easy to tackle a show about the kinds of love and loss that often come with age, but they approached the material with the earnest intensity only teenagers possess. As I watched them, I found myself wondering which of them would

11.12.2025 When I bought my condo in 2012, it was clear the place had seen better days — flimsy curtains, faded carpeting, a pink bathroom sink, and wallpaper borders straight out of 1992. It had been maintained, but it hadn't been loved and cared for in a long time. Still, I saw potential. What I didn’t realize at the time was that the condo’s state mirrored my own. Recently divorced and forced to give up nearly all my possessions, I too felt faded around the edges — intact,

Some families pass down recipes. Others pass down drama. This essay is for everyone who’s ever survived the holidays by smiling through gritted teeth and counting the hours until they can take home some leftovers. 🍗 #humorwriting #holidayfamilydynamics #writingcommunity #blogessay

Change has a way of dimming what we hold dear — but sometimes, one small light keeps us going. This is a story about loss, legacy, and the neighbors who unknowingly help us find our way home. 🕯💛

Finding the right volunteer opportunity is like finding the right job. It can be a rewarding experience, but when it isn't - then it's time to leave.

So begins the process of blocking a show - ensuring each movement helps tell the story, while keeping the actors safe.

10.08.2025 Friendship, souvenirs, and a raccoon’s guide to home improvement. A few years ago, a friend of mine went on vacation. When they returned, they told me they had bought souvenirs for all their friends; however, they didn’t buy me anything because, in their words, “You already have everything.” I was caught off guard by their comment and didn’t know how to respond, so I said nothing. But the more I thought about it, the more it made me question our friendship—or wha

Text scams are reaching a new level of creativity. How deep into the convo do you get before you know it's scam?

Preparedness, it turns out, is less about surviving the weirdest stories and more about making sure you have small comforts and friends to call on when you need them.

A frequent topic of conversation among my boomer friends is what to do with all the things we’ve accumulated over a lifetime. Those with children or grandchildren worry that no one wants their belongings. Those without kids already see their treasures ending up in a dumpster. The generations that follow don't want these items either. What do we do with these items and the memories that go with them?

Becoming a stay-at-home barista is not as easy as one would think.