i can’t contain my fuss. orange county has caught up with new york and los angeles. we finally have our first, full body, indoor cycling studio. and i’m back-flipping, out-of-my-mind, wanting to vomit, thrilled, i am a part of the team. full psycle...
usually i have sump-in. a quip. a gush. a rant. a peace sign. a white flag a’waving. this week: nada. you’ve rendered me quiet. both hands stacked over my mouth, in disbelief; imprisoning non-existent words. you’ve made me feel small with your...
i struggle at many things. pedicures for one. i suck at pedicures. even with navy seal precision, and tongue-out-of-my-mouth concentration, my toes still look as if i painted them blindfolded. and drunk. and no matter how careful i am when i pay someone else to...
i wish to unfold my body. i long to lengthen, wall-post to wall-post. limbs and fabric grappling for space as i fingertip to pinkie-toe my spot on the playground. i crave more nights under a flashing paparazzi sky. an on-foot, nomadic counsel with the stars {and...
