who’s that girl


With that title, I know all you 70’s babies are thinking … Madonna!!! So here’s the 1987 video. You’re welcome.

Anyways, back to the point … since the announcement of Ma’s return (today!!), I’ve gotten a handful of questions. Maybe two handfuls. But who’s counting? So I thought I’d answer a few of them.

Who’s that girl?

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Ma … and for those of you who have nodded your suspicious head … or given a skeptical thumbs-up … or looked dubiously at Pippa when she has said she has a younger sister … here’s the 411:

Ma is a near 5-year-old girl from Cote d’Ivoire, Africa, who has spent over 2 years of her short life with our family being treated for retinoblastoma, eye cancer.… Keep Reading

courageous love


I never thought of myself as an adrenaline junkie. I mean, I like adventure. But not the kind that puts you on a rock wall 100 feet up in the air without a harness. And not the kind that prompts you to attach a bungee cord to your ankles and jump off a bridge over a canyon. No, I like safe adventures. I want to see the cliffs, but not get too close to the edge. I want to fly, but in the relative safety of a metal tube with wings. And I’m quite alright watching the X games from the safety of my couch.… Keep Reading

the conclusion of lent



If you recall, these were the final words that the priest said to me on Ash Wednesday, the commencement of Lent:

Stay away from the chocolates.

As it turned out, I did not stay away from the chocolates over Lent. I never intended to. It might not actually be humanly possible for me. I have a massive sweet tooth. In fact, as I write, a small pile of M&M’s keeps me company – pastels, of course, in honor of Easter. I don’t eat them in handfuls … anymore. Instead, I place them on my tongue one at a time, sandwiching each miniature, candy-coated chocolate between my tongue and the roof of my mouth.… Keep Reading

the commencement of lent


Only the penitent heart shall pass.

Harnessing my inner Indiana Jones, I chanted these words over and over again in my head as I walked in the bitter cold to the Catholic church up the street from where I live.

Only the penitent heart shall pass.

These words pulsed in time with my footsteps. It was Ash Wednesday. I was about to attend my first-ever Mass. I had noticed that lots of people filter in and out of this church and its adjacent school nearly every single day, but Ash Wednesday seems to draw the biggest crowd. That’s how I landed on that day to make my debut.… Keep Reading

gee, thanks for the terrible day


A friend and I were chatting as we walked our respective kids home from school the other day. I was having a “meh” sort of day. You know the ones – nothing particular has gone terribly wrong, but you feel as though the grass is mocking your hairstyle, the trees are questioning your outfit choice, and the birds – who, on any other day would be singing beautiful songs – are now tweeting your terrible parenting skills around the neighborhood to anyone who wishes to listen. In addition, after 1,479 days of living in your house, the color of the paint on the kitchen walls all of the sudden makes you want to vomit.… Keep Reading