While January lasted 10 years, December has lasted 10 seconds. After a brown Christmas, I'm back to work planning out the year ahead. But I can only do that if I can examine what exactly I'm leaving behind. Instead of the usual format, I thought I'd switch up this post with a choppy pro/con analysis of 2018, rating the year from personal, professional, and global perspectives. Keep in mind this is all opinion--and if you're looking for 2018's all-inclusive almanac, you might

You never know to what extent your personal hobbies may affect your career. Flash back to sophomore year of college. Inspired after researching them for a class (and also needing something to put on my resume), I sent an email to a local nonprofit called Friends of Grand Rapids Parks. Intending only to volunteer, I met one of their staff members at Global Infusion for coffee. We discussed volunteer opportunities and my availability over chai, and we were almost finished with

Like so many moms, mine was filled with a kind of hopeful sadness when I officially moved out of the house a few years ago. But she always told me how proud she was of my sister and I, and how glad she was that I was out on my own. We would always have a place to come back to, of course, but I remember her distinctly telling me one day: "You're always welcome to come back, but don't stay." She wanted me to live my own life as I created it, without pressure or obligation to an

Between our Guinness World Record dinner at Bay Harbor and our huge golf outing fundraiser, I've been quite busy these past couple weeks, so this will be a short post. However, I wanted to tell you about one of my favorite features of my new home: the Little Traverse Wheelway! Even before I first moved to Northern Michigan, several people were already recommending me to explore the Little Traverse Wheelway: the 26 miles of dedicated trail from downtown Charlevoix to downtown

This is my first blog post. Enjoy, and let me know what you think! As I write this, a cool nighttime breeze comes from the street to brush my collarbone, and the rain that drips off the roof ledge threatens my laptop's well-being. It's a Sunday night. I'm sitting on the two-step cement stoop and leaning against the side of the old Butterworth house that has been my home for nearly a year. The peach yard light floods half of the uneven driveway, illuminating the stupidly wide