…Once, when trying with chin against a well-curb, I discerned, as I thought, beyond the picture, Through the picture, a something white, uncertain, Something more of the depths—and then I lost it. …What was that whiteness? Truth? A pebble of quartz? For once, then, something.
I have a love-hate relationship with epic novels. The Red Horse by Corti, The Idiot by Dostoevsky, the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I love the gasps and sighs and ups and downs of that first read. I get enamoured with the character development and crave the distraction at work waiting for lunch when I can read while I eat my soup. Nothing beats the kind of 3am and my light’s still on because I need to get to the next chapter thrill. Yet, even though I quest continually to find the next “big novel,” I in turn truthfully hate something about each one: I’ll never read it for the first time again.
This is part of our Professional Dinner Guest Series, a guide on how to become the kind of dinner guest that people enjoy having over and invite back regularly. Catch up on previous posts here. Also, since choosing proper attire is something that many of
This is part of our Professional Dinner Guest series, a guide on how to become the kind of dinner guest that people enjoy having over and invite back regularly. Catch up on previous posts here.
Today we will approach the “front door” of professional “guesting,” the
Here is my conviction: not all of us are called to be the perfect hostess. Not everybody loves the thrill of planning, preparing, hosting, and decorating events, nor need they. The plain fact is that for every 8-12 friends, we really need only 3-4 who
I just recently rented my first home with my (brand, glistening, sparklingly fresh) husband, and am counting the days until we can move in. I find myself sitting in meetings or movies, ticking through the list of furniture needed, and imagining the wooden floors covered