Links

Some things I'd like to share with you...

Worthy Causes:

First Priority of South Florida

Compassion International

Worthy Reads:

Giving up on Perfect
Are We Still Cool?



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The Gospel According to Daddy Warbucks

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Hooooow many times have I seen Annie? It must be a number in the hundreds. Add to that the number of times I've listened to or sung the music, seen the play...and, oh, yeah - there was that time I DIRECTED THE SHOW IN HIGH SCHOOL. Well, technically that was the sequel, but still, I was immersed in the story for like 4 straight months. So imagine my surprise when tonight, I'm just sitting here, minding my own business, being mom of the year by ordering pizza, cuddling up with the girls and having an Annie-watching pajama party - singing along with every single number and... what? Tears? What the...? Tonight, I saw a completely different story. See, there's this girl. An orphan. Let's call her...Annie. She's a pretty good kid, looks out for others, sings very sweetly. She's living in hell, but it's all she's ever known. She can imagine something better - she just doesn't know how to find it. She makes a couple of attempts at escape, but finds tha
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Block the Door

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Philip Seymour Hoffman was found dead today, and I am heartbroken. He was found, they say, in his underwear, with a needle in his arm, on the bathroom floor. It's that part that gets me the most. I believed him to be a creative genius, capable of depth and believable on-camera-grit than most, and his talent will be missed. He leaves behind a successful career, an admiring public and a family who loved him. But the hardest part to process isn't the how or the why. It's the where . The bathroom floor. The dirtiest place in the home. It is not made to comfort a resting body. The bathroom floor is cold, hard and lonely. And yet at one point today for Philip, there were no offers more appealing than stretching out on the bathroom floor and calling it a day. Philip's death made headlines. But there are so many that don't. I am privileged to know a family who has been standing between their loved one and the bathroom floor for years. They are waging an insp
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It's Time to Stop the Bleeding: A Manifesto on Friendship

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I'm gonna need some help, South Florida. We're losing the good ones. As a native South Floridian, which is kind of a novelty, there is one conversation I have with people all the time. It goes like this: Normal people: So do you ever get used to this heat? Me: Yes. Of course there's more to the story, but I know that generally people aren't really interested in how I, personally, deal with the oppressive weather. They just want to make the unique observation that I live in a place that can feel hotter than the surface of the sun. I assume it would be like living in New York City and getting asked if you see famous people all the time, but less glamorous. Maybe it's more like living in LA and being asked about the traffic. But there is another conversation that happens way too often, and it's one that breaks my heart, every time. Normal people: We're moving. (Other variations: Our 5-year-plan is to move away; We can't wait to get out of her
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