My weirdest memories. (Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!)

keely mom mother's day

My Mom has four daughters. I’m the second of four. Our household was simply always going a mile a minute, yet- YET- when I was in second grade and decided that I really, really needed my name to be Samantha, she actively attempted to call me Samantha for funsies. At least a handful of times. (The other times she was calling me Kate/Rachel/Emily/some amalgamation of pets’ names.) As a Mom now, that blows my mind; I was requesting that she disregard {Read More}

Stargazing with The Little Prince & the #StreamTeam.

TheLittlePrince_Lollygag

Disclosure: As a member of Netflix’s Stream Team, there’s no end to the movie-tacular joy I get to spread. This month’s virtual hug is the release of the Netflix original film The Little Prince and, I promise, you will love it. You. Will. Love. It. Although I’m frequently (and awesomely) compensated, all thoughts, opinions, and tiny gasps of glee are entirely my own. Oh, my heart: Netflix has done something spectacular and feelings-y. The Little Prince is a marvel of storytelling, {Read More}

Yanking out the teeth. (A love story.)

Nora loose tooth

I remember my Dad yanking out my teeth. That sounds horrible in the re-telling, doesn’t it? He didn’t whip out the pliers or anything but, after two hours of hearing me hem n’ haw about how loose my tooth was or how gross it was feeling, he’d nod in my direction and ask to have a look. By the time I’d opened my mouth to reply, he’d reached in, twisted the (impossibly tiny) sucker, and thwacked it into the palm {Read More}

Birthdays and time travel.

dad keely singing

So, this past Monday was my birthday. (And yes, we’re still talking about it, thankyouverymuch.) It was…perfect. It really was. Quiet. Fun. And wonderful, in the way that spending time with the people who appreciate you (even if they don’t mention it while you’re cutting their pb&js into geometrically exact triangles) is wonderful. Oof, 36 year-old Keely would be basically unrecognizable to 26 year-old Keely. (“So…you didn’t dance on any bars? Like, not even a smallish one?”) I was glad {Read More}

Grief. And Other Things I Can’t Control.

Photo-7

I am by no means a grief expert. I am by no means an anything expert. Except for mid-50s to mid-90s rock trivia. In that scenario, I’ve practically got a PhD. Which is not as frequently helpful as you might suspect. And even in terms of emotions, I’m okay at that. (P.J. would probably say that I’m exceptional at that. “Emotions.” As in “having them loudly.” “A lot.”) But working through them in functional ways that make linear sense? Yeah, {Read More}