I did not go easy on myself. The grief eclipsed me, and embarrassed me. And thinking of it as an event only increased my suffering. When each phase found me still mourning, I worried that I would never be myself again.
- Nora Ephron's works in the New Yorker. The writing is crisp and funny and lovely; what's sad is losing this voice forever.
You always think that a bolt of lightning is going to strike and your parents will magically change into the people you wish they were or back into the people they used to be. But they’re never going to. And even though you know they’re never going to, you still hope they will.
- If you missed it yesterday: Alex Stoddard's gorgeous self-portraits. Three guesses why I love this picture the most.
- Whiskey in My Sippy Cup is my favorite "mom blog" because as tough as her life gets she never becomes sappy or self-pitying. What she is is incisive and clear and brutally honest and brave.
- To play, a soundtrack: And the Giraffe.