I am a good friend to my husband. I have tried to make my marriage vows mean what they say. I show up. I listen. I try to laugh.

Sometimes change came all at once, with a sound like a fire taking hold of dry wood and paper, with a roar that rose around you so you couldn't hear yourself think. And then, when the roar died down, even when the fires were damped, everything was different.

Here is one of the worst things about having someone you love die: It happens again every single morning.

I have a cat, the pet that ranks just above a throw pillow in terms of required responsibility.

I am an affirmative action hire.

Obama doesn't seem like a burger and a beer kind of guy. I have to say, I don't find that problematic at all.

There's no greater happiness than doing something every day that you love, that you feel you do in a satisfactory fashion, and which both supports and gives you time to support your family. I felt so lucky to have all that.