In the summer of 2018, I enjoyed painting rocks. In fact, I painted enough rocks to put two in every one of my neighbors' front yards. I lived at Pacific Village. We had 82 homes in our park. The rocks were painted as cats, dogs, quilt patterns, English cottages, and more. I wrote Pacific Village 2018 in permanent pen and painted a big red heart on the back of each rock. I used sealant on the rocks as weather proofing. My dog, Carter, and I put one or two rocks in yard

My neighbors and I had five minutes to evacuate our homes during the Almeda Fire. I was able to grab my dog and my cat, their food, their food bowls, and four wash cloths. Four wash cloths? Really? Of the five minutes to evacuate, I spent one entire minute standing in my front room wondering if I should close the curtains. My mind had gone into panic mode, and I was paralyzed. It was then that I heard my daughter's voice in my head screaming at me to "Go, Get Out, Go Mo

An essay I wrote two weeks after the fire Trying to process it all Two Weeks Later: I have been back to my neighborhood three times now. It is truly a miracle, a gift, that all of my neighbors made it out of the park alive. The monster that was coming was relentless, unstoppable, and horrific. We had no notice. We had one exit. Many of my neighbors were home without cars. It was only because of the love and thoughtfulness of many that everyone made it out. Community,

I wrote a post earlier in the year to honor Carter and Max. They were the adored teaching assistants for Learning Is Fun. I wrote their remembrance together because they were such sincere buddies. I've been thinking a lot about Max. I want him to be recognized for all the joy he gave to our students. He loved to learn. He loved to watch the students learn. He was always on the table in his box observing the lesson. Sometimes, he'd take part as in the picture below. Bo