It’s three days after Christmas. I’ve got to sit down and write a few more Christmas cards, wrap one more gift, and wait for the green light to travel and gather with our northwesterly kids who are trying to get over Influenza A. I love Christmas, not just for the…
But the line of us is beautifully consistent. Last night’s texts: one exclaiming over a beautiful home on a holiday tour; one showing a beautiful winter container holding the line between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Both prompting a return early this morning to previous holidays through my phone’s photo library. Our…
This is your hotel? he asked. Looking around with his sharp, almost-5 eyes: You brought your house with you. Serendipitously, I encountered the author Fiona Davis, of so much great historical fiction, like “The Address,” about iconic NYC high-rises, who writes as though she lives in my head. It is…
It has taken me a lot of a slow lifetime to be ok knowing that we must find ourselves inside the fence instead of over it. I have asked myself a dozen times over a month, during which we have mostly lived out (J.’s goal … or was it prophesy?…
And there is not so easy. I gave a month’s notice yesterday on the Juliet Rome space at Glenwood Antique Mall. Somewhere along the line, I promised a reader I would be honest about the journey of it. Many time-worn clichés come to mind: endeavor to do what is best…
Sharing with you this morning a little of what you will find from me if you subscribe also to lauriecarney.substack.com: So, I did: remain very still. It’s predictable, what happens when one is still. For me, all the good stuff that happens inside of it is matched head on with…