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by Emily Nehus Today started a little late, because I set my alarm for 6 PM. This happens every so often, but today I compounded it by rushing through the making of pancakes. Never, never rush the making of pancakes. I burnt the cast iron griddle, and the stainless steel frying pan, and finally managed to cook my son’s breakfast on the cast iron skillet. It was that kind of morning. Dashing out an hour later, I grabbed my new favorite hat, crammed it on my head, and bolted for

I write myself a letter at the end of every year. While supporting a friend in writing her own letter, my 2015 epistle dropped into my hands. I was surprised. It was in a pile of stationery I sift through regularly, yet I hadn’t seen it until it materialized, one corner of the envelope poking into my palm.  For the first time I can remember, I was afraid to open it.  I didn’t want to see what I had written because 2016 was a very hard year. It was far

Whether you are observing a holiday or not, this time of year can be spirit crushing. Memories tend to rear their heads. Accessibility to (and desire to access) family becomes a point of reflection. Old patterns arise and we get mired in the struggle not to play them out again. We are rediscovering, redefining and setting our goals as we enter the next chapter of our lives. It doesn’t help that 2016 has been rife with conflict and disaster. Many of us would strike this year from history if we could.

I’ve been reading The Good Men Project for awhile. The content there is educational and interesting. Recently, Sarah Fader came on as an editor. She and I had a couple of discussions about how I could contribute. We decided my first piece should be a revisitation of the work I wrote for Straight White Man Seeks Knowledge. It’s always frightening to write about race and violence for me, but I trust Sarah. She’s a way paver for those of us trying to deconstruct the boxes we’ve been placed in through

A couple of weeks ago, Shareen and I launched #LinkYourLife #lovequotes. What blows my mind about this is that other #Lifers jumped on the bandwagon and started sharing quotes they love. Anyone can do this. Just read #LinkYourLife tagged posts. When you find a line you love, pull a quote, put it on an image and add #LinkYourLife #lovequotes. Here are a few of the quotes floating around. Feel free to grab the images and share pass them on.   I’ve shifted toward making the quotes sized for Pinterest. If

We are at the end of our funds raised for Appa. The money has gone to purchase of Appa, veterinary care, general dog supplies, travel related to training and training. We need to raise more money for Appa to complete his training. This dog is a quality of life changer for Noah. Having him in our house this last month has dramatically improved our lives and he’s nowhere near fully trained. The support he will provide as a fully trained service animal is exponentially greater. If you’d like to help

Just as I have been publishing guests on The Honeyed Quill, I have been guesting on other sites. It feels good to roam the internet. I’ve been showing up in someone else’s house, having them invite all their friends and neighbors–it creates an expanding sense of community (and I get to put my feet up for awhile). Guesting on Living the Dream feels like being taken care of. Antonio Vereen’s site is safe, his community is positive because he is a man of motivation. He genuinely believes that we can

Welcome! It’s been awhile since you stopped in for coffee and tea. I’m thrilled to have you here today. Big things are afoot at The Honeyed Quill. Like yesterday’s guest post from veteran, feminist and survivor Drew Sheldon. And several more guest posts I have lined up for you. What’s biggest on my mind today is the looming end of the Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Competition. This contest falls under the Four Paws for Noah banner and is a fundraiser for the service dog my son needs. I hope you’ll

It’s taken me a long time to be comfortable with my face. With my whole head, really, and everything below it. After my first son was born, my body became foreign to me. I lingered in front of the mirror pinching extra skin or tying my hair into submission. I couldn’t recognize myself. I was a collection of features that felt both concentrated and diluted by the processes of pregnancy, childbirth, parenting and the unexpected weight loss that came with breastfeeding. I ventured into the world again for the first

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