Life — blog — Danielle Mohlman

My Art Historian Daughter

My art historian daughter rolls her eyes every time she takes a picture of the Louvre.

She’s archiving the memory, not for the 2042 version of Instagram, though the likes or the points or the social currency of this deeply digital generation do send a ricochet of endorphins through her brain. No, my art historian daughter takes this photo because she knows I need to know she’s alive. Activity is her love language. My art historian daughter is studying abroad in Paris, because we asked her to, because we can afford to, because we weren’t even sure if 2042 would exist and now it’s here.

Life, Other People's ArtDanielle MohlmanNovember 18, 2019Comment

Welcome to the Land of Theatre Tourism

Last month, I went on my first ever trip outside of North America.

I’ve described it often, inaccurately, as my first international trip, mainly because the only part of Canada I’ve visited feels more like a long road trip than an international adventure. We’re spoiled, with Vancouver so close by. We were spoiled when my family made the 22 hour drive one summer, stopping at every major city along the way, blissfully unaware of where we’d be sleeping that night. We didn’t even need a passport for that trip.

Life, TravelDanielle MohlmanNovember 12, 2019Comment

On Winning

Last night, Jeremy and I rewatched Damn Yankees. In my defense, I remember it being a good movie.

Instead, what we watched was a movie about a woman whose husband leaves her without explanation (“Goodbye Old Girl” does not count) and when he does return months later — like, we’re in post-season at this point — she says “Where were you?” before bashfully saying, “Oh I shouldn’t ask you that. You don’t need to tell me.” And then — get this — he doesn’t tell her.

LifeDanielle MohlmanNovember 4, 2019Washington NationalsComment

Allowing Myself a Hobby

When I was nine, my mom taught me how to sew.

I don’t know what it was about fourth grade that made her think I was ready. Maybe I’d been asking for way too long already. Maybe she realized I was too cautious to hurt myself. Maybe she was around that age when her own mom taught her. Though I don’t remember my grandma ever sewing anything. She must have at some point, right? Before she was thrust into a world of capitalism and Kohl’s coupons?

LifeDanielle MohlmanOctober 15, 2019sewingComment

Coming Home/Watching Homecoming

I went home at the end of April and it coincided with Beyoncé’s greatest live performance of all time.

I’ve been trying to go home more. When I lived on the East Coast, I skipped Christmas visits because of the expense. I’d visit in February or March instead, hopeful that one day I’d get to fly home in a less extravagant way, hopeful that my midwinter visit would be welcome and not a total pain in the butt. Since moving to Seattle, I’ve kept those February/March visits up, adding Christmas (finally) to the mix too. It was a way to escape the rain, an assurance that there was sunshine somewhere. California, here I come.

LifeDanielle MohlmanMay 6, 2019Beyonce, Homecoming, parents, CaliforniaComment

Keeping a Journal

On Friday, March 22, I started keeping a journal.

I think most people already picture me as someone who journals — a journaler? — but the reality is I used to check in with myself very little. I check in with my characters constantly. I check in with my sources all the time. (It’s probably annoying how much I check in with them.) And I check in with the people around me so much that I sometimes forget to share what’s going on in my life.

LifeDanielle MohlmanApril 9, 2019journaling, writing, self careComment