Coach. Teacher. Writer. Mama.
Fancy titles include Freedom Instigator, Joy Enthusiast and Fierce Love Advocate.
I believe in champagne, utter honesty and creating your own version of success.
Every time I get a little Molly in my life, my attitude is instantly changed–I can’t help but transform into a grinning, life-lovin’ hippie child. I sometimes wonder what the neighbors may think, when I’m on a call with her–all that hootin’ and hollerin’, they probably think I’m doing something much naughtier. Fortunately for me, I’m not. Am I saying that Molly is better than sex? WHY YES, I AM.
Ash Ambirge, The Middle Finger Project
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Author Archives: Erin
Hold the phone. This is my last post? Like, ever? Forever ever? Forever ever? (Let me just apologize now for that OutKast joke. I can assure you that “So Fresh, So Clean” is now on repeat in my head.) I don’t know anybody that likes goodbyes. I’m pretty sure that I would be a little […]
Where do you see yourself (or hope to be) 6 months from now? A year from now? Six months from now, I hope to be the owner of a fledgling digital communications agency. A year from now, I would like to have just returned from a 2-week holiday vacation and new year planning retreat, be […]
At the beginning of every year, I watch the premiere of NBC’s The Biggest Loser. And, in the irony of ironies, I have often watched with a super-sized bag of fast food awfulness in my lap. This year was no different. Obviously, the massive amount of work that these people put in to take charge […]
I have a wicked fear of heights, but somehow I’ve always loved flying on airplanes. It’s amazing to me how everything just falls away as you take off. Everybody stares out the window, whether out of fear or out of excitement, and just watches. For a few brief minutes, all of the passengers are truly […]
I’ve never been a resolution kind of girl. The concept seems to demand a seriousness of purpose, especially when you lead with a word like resolve. And then you have to hold out for a year with this business, just because you said you would? Thanks, but I’ll pass. Maybe it’s all the drama of […]
My first published work appeared in my third grade school calendar. It was a poem about icicles. January. Picture illustrated by some fifth grader. The family considered it to be a Big Deal.
I am very familiar with grieving the loss of a relationship. Family, friends, boyfriends, pets. In my gut, I believe in the whole “you have to go through it to get through it” thing.
But I didn’t know that you could grieve a year of your life. Which is what I did while working through the first week of Holiday Council work.
I should have been many things.
A magna cum laude graduate.
A scientist or perhaps a doctor (had I applied myself enough).
A regular patron of some sort of fitness establishment.
A good Catholic.
A young manager.
A committed pianist.
And God knows I should have been married by now, with at least one kid.
I am none of those things.
Violation (n): the act of violating : the state of being violated: as
a : infringement, transgression
b : an act of irreverence or desecration
c : disturbance, interruption
I remember the first time somewhere I lived was burglarized. I was in college, and it occurred either Christmas Eve or early on Christmas Day. The sorority house I lived in was entered through a broken kitchen window.
I hate it when reality comes to kick me in the ass. My mom came for a visit a couple of weeks ago. She had a conference in town and decided to bookend it with a stay at Disney, and because I now live so close, that also meant more than one trip to my apartment. Now, I know you don’t know my mom. She is polite, gracious, smart, funny, and the mother of all perfectionists. And she has definite ideas about who I should be.