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There are so many reasons Meg and I are friends, too many to list. But one thing that runs deep for us is the shared loss of a close friend. For Meg, the loss came when she was young, just starting her adult life. For me, it came two years ago, close to the mid point of mine.

I met Cara 23 years ago when we were both 17. We met the first day of college; we were assigned rooms down the hall from each other. We were both from NY, transplanted to a tiny town in Ohio. Cara was elegant even then . . . she was tall, leggy, and tan from spending the summer at Squam Lake. She quickly became known for her fabulous wardrobe, her great joy for life and her mother’s outstanding care packages. I am quite sure that Cara was the only student in Kenyon’s history to feast on fine cheeses, meats, decadent chocolate and other delicacies upon returning from a late night party.

Cara taught me many lessons about friendship . . . lessons I am still trying to master. Cara was the least judgmental person I have ever known. Don’t get me wrong, she could be opinionated and bossy and lord knows I got some pretty strange looks about clothes I wore but she never judged her friends. Cara supported her friends though the good and bad choices. She was compassionate and empathetic. She never claimed to know better, she just supported you. She would give advice when asked, but was always satisfied to listen. When I think about Cara and my twenty years with her I think about her love. I have this overwhelming memory of feeling unconditionally loved by her and her friendship. No matter what I did or what mistakes I made, we would be friends.

I have a picture of the two of us the day we graduated from college. It sits on my desk at the meG + aLi studio. She is towering over me and has her arms around me. I am looking away, slightly confused. Cara is looking straight at the camera, smiling, totally grounded in the moment, holding me steady.

Today would have been Cara's fortieth birthday. Because our birthdays are just six days apart we often celebrated together. I imagine if she were here now we would be together on this milestone . . . mostly staring incredulously at each other . . . wondering how we got here. . . amazed at how many things change . . . and even more amazed at how many things stay the same.

I miss you all the time Cara. Happy Birthday.

On a whim my husband and I decided to take a break from our crazy life in Maine (and the plummeting temperatures). Two weeks ago, we booked a trip to Virgin Gorda, a small island in the British Virgin Islands. Deciding whether to take the trip took a night or two of conversation. Booking the actual trip took 5 minutes on Travelocity. But organizing care for our three kids took seven days of planning, a grandmother, a night nanny, three fabulously supportive friends and a spreadsheet to keep track of who went where when.

When I practiced law, I thought leaving my caseload in order before a vacation took a lot of work. Ha. That was nothing compared to getting three kids squared away -- bus notes, musical instruments, tutoring schedules, early band, snow suits, play dates, drop off, pick up. After heroic efforts and the incredible generosity of my family and friends, on the morning I left to fly out of Boston it seemed everything was set. I drove off fairly relaxed and confident that all would be well . . . and that I would soon be on the beach with my husband.

Following the two hour drive to Logan Airport, I went to check in at the electronic kiosk. I punched in my confirmation code, pulled up my reservation and selected my seat. Then it asked me to swipe my passport. I did. Nothing. Did it again. Nothing. A very helpful American Airlines employee came over to help. She swiped my passport. Nothing. Ah, she said, machine must be frozen, try the other one. I moved over, passport in hand, wondering in some small part of my brain why my passport had hole punches in it. So I tried again on the new machine. All went well . . . until it asked for the passport. I swiped. Nothing. I opened my passport and looked at the picture inside. I thought wow, I look really young. And then in a matter of seconds I thought, oh . . . that is the picture I took to get a passport to move to Spain when I was in college . . . wait that was twenty years ago . . . wait. . . passports only last 10 years . . wait . . . oh damn it . . . I brought my expired passport.

Well to jump to the end of the story, the universe (and my super calm husband) made it all right. Kurt found a taxi to drive my passport from Maine down to Logan. American Airlines put me on the next flight out to San Juan. And I arrived on a beautiful island only four hours later than my originally scheduled arrival time!

So for those of you out there constantly struggling to manage each detail of your family's crazy schedule, don't forget to get yourself together. Or at least don't forget to travel with proper identification. ali

One of the great things about opening our studio has been the distraction it offers from doing the hair pulling, mind numbing, temper tantrum generating parts of running a business (read financial management ... inventory tracking). For the holidays we knew we wanted lights for the exterior of our shop ... an effort to spice up our little town and remind people meG + aLi was open for biz. Rhonda, a woman with a never ending supply of fabulous product ideas, turned us on to this amazing site, www.solarsanta.com. This company does every imaginable holiday light ... powered by the sun. How cool is that! We get to light our space without generating one fossil fuel emission. We are telling everyone ... hoping to start a trend ... maybe a movement ... no more plug in holiday lights ... think how mad the electric utility companies would be ... reason enough, no?

ali

Crazy week for meG + aLi. We rocked a couple of shows today. Well, Ali rocked more than I did. She spread the peace in Hamilton, MA (thanks, ladies, for your support!). I hit Portland with my 5 year old "helper". We had good times together even though there were not many people at the fair. 68 degree weather + Maine + December does not equal large crowds inside a building if given the choice!

Anyhow, both aLi and I are exhausted and ready for a lovely weekend with girlfriends at at mad gab's lake house. Gabrielle is a dear friend who is not only a fabulous cook and mid-life problem solver, she makes fabulous balms and yummy candles, etc. (perfect stocking stuffers made by a swell company, www.madgabs.com) So Ali and I are off to enjoy some peace and silly girl time. A psychic is coming to the house to give readings. Eeeeeeek! Stay tuned!

meg

So I'm finally writing my first blog! Ali is jamming in this department. I love the last sentence of her latest blog about doing yoga. Ali and I met at a yoga class 10 years ago. I don't think we knew then how our friendship and our relationship to yoga would evolve like it has.

Even though this yoga talk my not appear to be related to our business, it SOOOOOOO is!

Speaking of, I just finished an hour of yoga in my bathroom. Yes, I practiced in the room o' the john, the can, el toillatta. I figured it's the smallest room in my house (well, big enough for my yoga mat) so the heat of my body would warm up the space. Anyhow, once I got past being grossed out by the dust under the vanity, my practice was powerful. I kept bringing myself out of my mind's grip..." I don't really want to be doing this. I've got so many other things that need to be done. I wonder what rob and the girls are doing? I feel fat..." I just let it come and go…ebb and flow, yin and yang, meg and ali...balance.

Life, emotions, state of mind...it's all impermanent. And yoga is the practice of breathing through it, creating some sort of balance in this fanatical life.

meg

One week, two trunk shows (in different states), a holiday open house, web sales, kids with ear infections, other kids with night terrors, husbands traveling out of town ... not so easy to stay in the moment ... not so easy to feel peaceful ... even when wearing one of our peace tees! In fact, if I could just go to sleep for the next month I would be so, so happy. But that is just this moment. Tomorrow when Meg, Rhonda (our amazingly gifted style guru) and I work on our holiday display for the front lawn at our studio, all this will disappear. We will laugh and climb all over each others ideas, building on the creative energy that seems to flow when we get together.  And we won't care about any of the monotonous details of our daily lives - we will forget for a little while about the endless to-do-lists and that feeling of constantly running. Now if I could just figure out how to grab that feeling when I am doing those damn to-do-lists ... gonna have to do a lot more yoga I guess.

ali

I ran away last weekend to Kripalu, a yoga retreat center in Lenox, Massachusettes. Kripalu is an amazing place for peace, rest, clarity. Of course, you have to get over the cement walls in the oh, so spartan dorm rooms. But after I quieted my PTSD reaction to thinking I was back in college, I relaxed into a powerful weekend reconnecting with my dearest friend from law school. That is, until the Sunday morning yoga class. The instructor, a young woman with a breathy, soothing (ok, maybe a little annoying) voice, said she would like to open the practice with a poem.

Let me tell you. I am not a poetry girl. Poetry has always eluded me, made me uncomfortable, as if there is this secret world of words that I cannot understand. Tell me what you mean. Don't ask me to feel it. So I sat there ready to tolerate whatever words I would not understand.

In her delicate voice she said, "listen to the beginning lines of Mary Oliver's poem 'Wild Geese.'"

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

And there it was - the one poem I ever felt in my bones. A friend read it to me a few months ago. At the time, it ripped my heart open, unexpectedly, completely. So there I was, sitting on my yoga mat, crying while my heart ripped open again. And then I laughed. How did I end up crying on a god damn yoga mat? My life was supposed to be about bringing people to tears on the witness stand during withering cross examination. Looks like my plans changed. I wonder what's next.

ali

Thank god we can finally stop saying, "well, if we can just get the website done ..." For those of you who spent months (ok, years) listening to these statements, thanks for not killing us.

So, what now? Meg and I joke that all we know is that this crazy start-up business ain't about the shirts. It turns out meG + aLi has been about being open to a connection with other people, doing things the hard way sometimes because it can be more satisfying, collaboration, letting the creativity in a person have room to live, beautiful bold color inspired by nature, trying to be open to what is in front of you, and it is about sending a delicate message of peace to ourselves and the world around us.

When we try to describe our designs, we tell people we take beautiful but distinct and sometimes conflicting textile patterns and weave them together to create a harmonious design. So maybe this company is just a way of playing out what meg and I are trying to do each day – find a way to weave together the distinct, and sometimes contradictory, parts of our lives with greater ease, openness and authenticity. It's a crazy and sometimes confusing ride we're on. But I can't imagine us ever going back.

Keep the peace,
ali