I have a stunning view from my home office window. I can choose to see one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But these days I can’t help seeing countless homes—where any of them could be the scene to the suffering or death of a woman. And I won’t shut up about it.
This year’s Mothers’ Day left me with a bitter aftertaste… read to find out why and how.
Involve me and I learn
Trying to figure out how to best help my kids learn stuff.
Just writing about my emotional fatigue. Not to fish for compassion, but to say you should not feel guilty about it, either.
I don’t see London, I don’t see France
So I took a photo from my home office window, put some arrows on it, and explained them. (You are welcome to feel sorry for me when you have time.)
The letter s
Today, I will tell you about the s in https. Don’t get offended if you already know this.
That Sunday breakfast
Just what the title says: what is in our Sunday breakfast? It doesn’t get more mundane than that.
45 slaves work for me*
How is that possible? Read to find out. This is meant to be an unsettling post and a call to action against slave labor.
Today, you won’t learn what San Diego is like. But I will invite you to play a game: tell about your last journey before the lockdown. Other than that, I choose to be optimistic and say: hold on—till we see each other again. And not just on a screen.
Of cats, compassion, and a failed state
I was too angry to write a post yesterday. But today I had a conversation than made me believe—again—that I don’t have to just suffer what others (including the powers that be) throw at me