For those of you who are willing to read online content, I cannot think of a writer that I admire more than Heather Armstrong, aka Dooce. She, by far, does the kind of writing for which I aspire. First, she's a mother of one who writes about her life - her daughter, her husband, and *everything* else you could imagine - like having the ability to peep into someone's house and see their everyday life. She talks about her fight with postpartum depression, her straying from the Mormon faith, her miscarriage, as well as all of the fun things she experiences - parties, photography, design, and, of course, her fame - she's arguably the most widely-read blogger in the world (a million hits a month). They even did a NightLine feature on her.
I've been reading her for about two years now, and she's never let me down. Many a night has seen me reading an exceptionally moving or funny post to Leslie, and rare are the posts that I can read aloud all the way through without being interrupted by either my tears or my laughter.
So - Go - Read - Now
The Gift
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[Christmas, 1965 or thereabout]
The boy was very young; perhaps 7 or 8 years old. He loved everything about
Christmas - the lights, the music, Santa ...
10 months ago
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