Ohana.

Suffice to say, I have done an awful job of updating this summer. Been all sorts of distracted — but mostly in the best sorts of ways. Long, drawn out lunches with the girls, jibber-jabbering with the smallest Bird, lazy mornings watching the first sunbeams sneak into the room and choosing to stay both in pajamas and under the ceiling…… Continue reading Ohana.

“Hi Heather. It’s your dad, Mike Lange.”

You are famous in my mind. Whenever anybody says your name (your real name, not your Dad-name or your Papa-name), I get proud. You were the journalist, the baseballbasketballfootballtennis player, the stud of the adult mens’ league, wives in the stands and kids under trees. Gone before five, home after six, you were the owner…… Continue reading “Hi Heather. It’s your dad, Mike Lange.”