I’m finally reading Cheryl Strayed’s memoir Wild (thank you Powells City of Books for a good discount, plus no sales tax in Oregon, where I was visiting last weekend!). To put it succinctly: it’s wonderful. I’m resenting everything in my life that’s keeping me from reading it all the time. Beautiful, blunt writing about grief, plus some playful and familiar ruminations on the life of the backpacker.


I highly recommend it, and I’m not even done yet.

And I’ve got a new post on Momming! I hope you enjoy that too.



Readers! I made a bit of a tactical error way back when, by creating a mailing list AND a blog with its own separate...

1 Comment

  1. the blogging disciple

    Thanks for the introduction to “Wild”. I love the outdoors; and that thing we call grief has been moving through my mind this year like a slow, swirling ribbon. It’s been a year of watching people I care about wading through the flood-waters of grief (or as I titled a poem: “In the Sea of Grief”).
    I look forward to picking up a copy of this book. Peace! ~Beth


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