Recently I attended an event for the purpose of networking with attendees from three, different, women’s entrepreneur groups. It was at a coffee shop in the city and started at 7:30 a.m.
I’m still not sure what enticed me out of my suburban comfort zone at that hour. I am not a morning person. Continue Reading
April’s baby was not the first giraffe born in captivity, and there was nothing exceptional about the event other than thousands witnessed the birth via social media.
What was it about that giraffe and her baby that drew people in and had them incessantly checking notifications on their phones?
As my sixth decade approaches I find myself obsessed with the preserving of memories. Especially the memories of loved ones that have passed before me. It’s been important for me to document our lives for those we’ll eventually leave behind. Not only our personal information, but our first-hand-accounts of historical events and how we reacted to them.
Eighteen-years-ago my brother was murdered. He was 26.
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