This week I found surprisingly profound wisdom in the words of Tim Gunn. Yes that Tim Gunn, of “Project Runway” fame, who effortlessly sashayed around dozens of frantic designers, imploring them in his characteristic, frank timber to “make it work.” Him. I read his book, “A Guide to Quality, Taste & Style”
I recently attempted to #KonMari my house to make it a more inviting, simple, joyful place. In reality, I have no actual idea how the method goes (full confession) but instead, just asked myself with every item: “Does it spark joy?”
What’s a late-December blog post without a few words to take with you into the new year? Nothing, I tell ya! Nothing. So, here are mine:
I’m on a mission. Navigating the waters of my existence like a swashbuckling sailor, I’ve let feelings guide me instead of following some reliable, boring North Star. And what I’ve discovered along this mission is that it feels good to make someone else happy. So, with my boat lilting against the early
I almost didn’t write this post. I almost didn’t hit the “publish” button and almost let these words disappear into lost-prose obscurity. Then I thought, “no.” I told myself to do it. Others out there might be having these same doubts, my inner monologue said. Others may too be dealing
Hello. My apologies for the hiatus, I haven’t forgotten about you, life has been busy and honestly, little word studio has always been this place of uber-creativity for me and I haven’t felt all that inspired to write something worthy of this blog. The plan for little word studio in
That morning I ordered waffles, which I almost never do. Funny I can recall the waffles with such clarity (syrup-soaked, dense) and next the walk home along a Chicago street bordered by pudgy brownstones. It was a sunlit April day, the bitterness of Midwest winter finally releasing its grasp. My
Ten minutes deep into a Phantom of the Opera-inspired uphill climb on the elliptical, my phone rings. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have answered but the gym was empty and something about seeing the incoming call flash across my screen just as “Angel of Music” was reaching its soaring crescendo gave
Irrelevance—like its more evil and twisted stepsister, irreverence—is a term not often price-tagged to the present of love. But as summer approaches and we flirt with finding our own summertime flings, the word is about to stick like a wet bathing suit to that very topic, more specifically to the
