I Forgot My Mantra: Writing Caravanning and Seeking the Real
I Forgot My Mantra: Ramblings of a liberal elitist, seeker, writer, yogi & momma. Get on my bus and enjoy my ride as I write about this mysterious, hysterical and kind-of deep life I live in.
I Forgot My Mantra, Writing, Seeker, Blog
5
home,paged,page-template,page-template-blog-compound,page-template-blog-compound-php,page,page-id-5,paged-4,page-paged-4,bridge-core-3.1.7,qi-blocks-1.3,qodef-gutenberg--no-touch,qode-page-transition-enabled,ajax_fade,page_not_loaded,,qode-title-hidden,qode_grid_1300,qode-content-sidebar-responsive,qode-child-theme-ver-1.0.0,qode-theme-ver-30.4.2,qode-theme-bridge,disabled_footer_top,qode_header_in_grid,wpb-js-composer js-comp-ver-7.6,vc_responsive
Inspiration, Relationships, Salt Lake City, Style / 08.02.2018

A Table Set With Love Originally published in Devour Magazine, February 2018 Is the idea of sitting elbow to elbow at a restaurant with your sweetheart not what you had in mind on Valentine’s Day? Are reservations at your favorite restaurant impossible to get? Do you have young children in tow and can’t find a sitter? Well, I feel you, and that’s why I prefer to celebrate Valentine’s Day at home with takeout Thai food and a bottle of prosecco. But that’s not to say I don’t make it count—just...

Astrology, Biography, Inspiration / 13.12.2017

Today marks the anniversary date I launched this blog, I Forgot My Mantra. The significance of the day is more than a number on a calendar for me. It represents the power of my thoughts and intentions, the belief that I am the agent of something other than running errands and folding laundry, and of course the sexiest part, expressing my creativity. What originally inspired me to write was my husband Steve’s colorful life—think Catch Me if You Can meets Curb Your Enthusiasm, with a little dash of Wolf...

Biography, Inspiration, Motherhood, Recipes / 17.10.2017

If I envy anyone it must be My grandmother in a long ago Green summer, who hurried Between kitchen and orchard on small Uneducated feet, and took easily All shining fruits into her eager hands. That summer I hurried too, wakened To books and music and circling philosophies. I sat in the kitchen sorting through volumes of answers That could not solve the mystery of the trees. My grandmother stood among her kettles and ladles. Smiling, in faulty grammar, She praised my fortune and urged my lofty career. So to please her I studied- but I will remember always How she poured...