I've never been good at endings. It's something most of my closest friends know about me. And it goes way back. I remember in elementary school, when I finished my last day of sixth grade at the school I'd attended my whole life. Depression hit me like a sack of sadness, and I couldn't move on from the fact that I'd never darken those doors again. Instead, childhood was being shed like a too-tight skin to make way for pre-teendome. And I was not a fan. To this day, I won't watch the series finale when I stream my favorite shows because it's too sad. In my twisted little world, as long as I don't watch Monica, Chandler, Pheobe, Ross, Joey and Rachel walk down that hallway one last time, then they continue on as they always have ... sipping coffee at Central Perk and living their quirky, mid-90s lives. There's comfort in that for me. Even if I know it isn't true. Today, I'm facing one of those endings that I know will hurt like my first
Miranda Bradley is a master juggler. Of life, that is. Owner of BCreative, a marketing firm in Georgetown, Texas, Miranda is, at any given time, cooking with one hand, typing with another, hugging one of her two children with her elbow, signing permission slips with pen-to-mouth, holding a speaker phone conversation and making dinner, all at the same time. And she is usually wearing pearls and a circle skirt, looking fabulous as always. Okay, maybe not the last part, but the rest is true ...