Intentional-ish

I'm a camp girl.  In my kitchen you cans see a camp sticker on the family command center.  It's fairly likely I'm wearing a washed out camp t-shirt.  The biggest compliment I've ever given my husband is that he could have been a camp counselor- he's that good of a guy (he was otherwise occupied making actual money to pay for college while I traipsed around the woods, extending youth as far as it would go). This year I took my girls to Mother/Daughter weekend at the very same place I spent summers- I walked them around and listened to traditions old and new explained.  I watched them jump off high dives (twisted ankle) and pick their way up the rock climbing tower ("I can't do it!").  They were delighted to stand on the benches and scream sing.  They baked cinnamon rolls from scratch.  They shot archery and rifles and took shots in battleball.  They jumped in with their whole hearts and grew mine in the process. I watched in wonder (and a few gulpi

If you are new friends of mine, one of my favorite questions to pass around the table is around what people ate for special occasions growing up.  It's an enlightening conversation that never fails to please.  There are dark moments here worth sharing as well, but in my experience, people light up.  They glow.  They think back, telling stories of burnt dinners and holiday treats, traditional dishes and unique fare that only their family seems to appreciate.  You learn about their culture, their people, their life, the tone of their days growing up.  You also get to hear deep love stories, of Grandma's all-day red sauce or Grandpa slaving over the world's best steaks with the memory lingering years after they've passed.  I'll tell people about my Grandmother's bread, my Aunt's goulash, the excitement of a family friend's well-stocked shelves of junk cereal we were only allowed to eat when vacationing with them.  I laugh about my dinner request that re

I took bible and religion classes for years (and years.... and years), but it was watching summer camp counselors casually reading scripture on their bed with a well-worn bible on their lap that showed me what it was to dive into God's Word. I went to mass willingly and regularly... but it was the adoration chapel of my high school and a daily practice of seeing our chaplain on his knees before the Eucharist that stirred my heart as never before.  In this way, I I have degrees, but my greatest lessons on business came (and come) from watching my parents work.  When I was young, my dad would let me sit in on meetings and soak in the processes in front of me.  He never explained my presence in the room.  He never intentionally taught me anything about business (preferring the important items of how to ride a bike, say my ABC's backwards in case of a sobriety test, dock a boat, or balance a checkbook), but he freely let me observe him.... my greatest gift.  My mother works throu

I love my neighbors.  We don't fuss.  We don't jump in the shower or put on shoes or insist on bringing a bottle of wine to dinner.  We show up and trickle in and help with the dishes and go home.  We compare ingredients in the fridge to see if between us we can come up with some inspiration for a mid-week joint dinner.  We send outgrown kids gear their way as we receive it from others.  We lay on each others couches- really lay, barefoot in cutoffs and old shirts. We do not change the kids' shirts before a visit.  We're all just so, so past that.  We do not put out appetizers.  We send our children back and forth, knowing they're welcome and that the moment they're not.... they'll be kindly sent packing.  I once mentioned how much I wanted a planter for my oddly-sized outdoor shelf- a few days later a handmade, freshly stained pair sat on my porch.  We promise ourselves hat we're going to walk daily together- really get into that habit.  We give