The Phoenix: Epicuriousmothering Rising

When I started this crazy idea of writing for 60 days, I had this idea that if I could make myself think every day for 60 days about what I wanted to do with my spare time, the empty spaces inside of me would be fixed.  I would somehow uncover a hidden talent or desire or dream that would make me a million dollars, validate all my efforts these past 43 years, and calm the loud and crazy voices inside me. And it so many ways it has, but on day 56, looking back over the past 55 (ok, that alone makes me feel sort of amazed--maybe they're not all keepers, but I sat my not so little butt down and wrote . . . and followed through) posts, I see a theme going on here and I see how much farther this posting has gone than I thought. I feel like I'm waking up a little bit more each day. I see that under this idea of discovery what I should do in the next step of my life, that I was really trying to figure out why I felt so fractured and confused and lost.  I think in a lot of ways,...

So this is me and my sister, Annie B.  Note our natural state.  We are in this photo about to embark on a week of showerless existence.  I woke up that morning and said to myself, Let the week of no make up, no hair do, lots of wet wipes, and prayers begin. I may have been a little excited about it (and the fact that I can take photos with my watch as a timer . . . holy. cow.  I mean, look at these awesome shots I got of me . . . yes, you are welcome to laugh your head off at them.  I do).  but really . . . aren't they a little awesome?  I mean . . . look at those jumps! So we camped. We hiked.   We biked (a lot). We saw bears (if you look really careful you'll see him too . . . Finn biked right by him about a foot away . . . Hello, Bear.  You're cute.  But I'm still scared of you). We cooked (and it was hard.   Bear boxes . . . BEAR BOXES will be the death of me.  Honestly, my phone tracked...