Stuff I’ll Keep in 2026

I know, believe me, I know. It’s time to shed the old, discard the crap, defuse the judgement and forgive the trespassers. In fact, for every snake metaphor you can muster, today is the day to say goodbye to all of it. But there is a pile of stuff I plan to keep. Like treasured memories and my wonderful network of people along with hopes and dreams and aspirations and grit and imagination and a ton of love. But me too. Starting with my wild side. She’s been my main gal from forever. She doesn’t mind screaming with a zany recklessness. She’s impractical and unrealistic. She’s a stargazer. She’s at the top of my invite list headed into 2026. Sometimes she makes a mess, has a breakdown, gets absolutely sidetracked or even off track. But she’s never given up. She’s made this life the stunning vision it is, and I’m fairly certain, she’s going to keep charging forward through whatever comes next. So, here’s to being unabashedly every bit of me in the near and far future, while embracing the mountain of marvels and challenges ahead.

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Cheers to those who Mother Us!

Please join with me and give a loud cheer to all the fabulous people who mother. There is a long list of who I could applaud, for starters my own mother, but there have been many who have nurtured my heart, soul, and body through the years. I imagine you too have a lengthy catalogue to applaud. Mother’s Day is the perfect day to reach out with acknowledgment for those who hugged us through the trials.

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What to be Called?

Whoopi Goldberg became a grandmother at 34 and is now a great-grandmother. Anna Wintour, editor-in-chief of “Vogue” magazine, has three grandchildren. Meryl Streep became a grandmother in 2019 (Insider). And, yes, now I am one too. What an extraordinary club! But what to be called? Vanity suggests something cute and sassy like Mimi or Yaya or Gigi, but Grandma, oh that has so many connotations that might suggest baking or needlepoint, or at least level-headedness, right? Might I still be in a nightclub at midnight or be dashing around the south of France or even, dare I say, unsure about my future with a moniker like Nana? Didn’t we all think those matriarchs, a bit round in the middle, coiffed grey hair into a bun, always in an apron, knew their way around a kitchen, and knew for certain what their tomorrow would bring? Seriously, those names and every association with them is weighty. How can I step into those shoes and feel they fit while there is so much I am still learning about life? Grandmother? Feels tight.

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