As I continued chopping, he described that during band rehearsal, he wanted his students to “let go” and get a louder, fuller, freer sound.

“I told them, ‘I need you to care while also not caring,’” he said.

I stopped chopping. My knife hovered mid-air, while I tried to make sense of this phrase.

I’m currently managing several health issues, including mobility challenges and the need for careful medication management. While my family does their best to support me, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to manage everything on my own. I’m in need of more consistent and professional help to handle daily activities, monitor my health, and provide personal care.

This got my attention. The only other Surgeon General’s advisory I can think of is the one on cigarette cartons. But parenting? Is it true that parenting is hazardous to our health?

I thought it was a logical question to ask, because if there is such an age, I must surely be creeping up on it — if I hadn’t already slid past it.

I’m seeking advice on how to balance respecting her autonomy with ensuring her safety. Should I consider alternative caregiving options, or are there other strategies to address this concern?

Last year at this time, my husband and I were feeling overwhelmed. We were overscheduled, tired, and worried about money. From our conversations surrounding these problems, a theme emerged: we were getting lax. Undisciplined. We knew what we needed to do, but we weren’t bringing our A game.

I’ll admit that much of my love for fall is tied up in nostalgia, in memories that I will never relive again. Gone are the piles of elm leaves raked into the street and set ablaze, into which we kids would toss apples and potatoes, and then rake them from the ashes to eat, charred husks and all. I think that fragrant, savory memory is why I still like to toast bagels and English muffins almost black, until the smoke alarm threatens to squawk.

Although I hadn’t ridden a bike through most of my adulthood, pretty much every morning for the past couple years I take a ten-ortwelve-mile jaunt into the countryside, where I converse with the corn and cows if they’re in the mood to listen. Whatever trials await me later, I always find a sense of peace peddling the pavement at the start of the day.

The site is an older building and has housed several different restaurants during the past years. When walking in, there was a gigantic fish tank with lots of salt water fish swimming around (their sushi must be really fresh). There are a lot of steps to get into the restaurant and also into their dining area, so obviously this restaurant is not handicap accessible.