“Trump Wins” That was emblazoned in a pretty chalk pattern on the back of my front door when I awoke this morning. I stood, staring, then decided my husband was playing a joke. It had to be a joke. Right? I opened newspaper websites to find out. We, as a nation, didn’t really do that to…
There is certain quality of autumn light that arrests me, makes me stop and just experience the moment. It’s that time before the deep blue of the gloaming sets in, when the white slashes of house trim and slender birches fairly glow. When the clouds are pink candy floss on the mackerel-belly sky and everything else…
I am a cultural nonentity; my own voice doesn’t reach very far. But it does reach my son’s ears. I do my very best to impress upon his eight-year-old mind that he must treat girls, and later women, first as people. To not look at a girl and assume that she is weaker, slower, less intelligent, or in any way less capable than he is.
Last night was the annual barbecue at my mother’s nursing home. Though we visit regularly, I make it a point to go to these, because the alternative is the thought of my mother sitting alone and unattended in a sea of cohorts who laugh, and smile, and remember with their own families. So each August we…
I just came back from the dinky little Independence Day festivities in my tiny little town, and as I gimped my way back to the car, we passed a little stone structure tucked into the edge of the woods, right behind the Porta-Potty. I’ve passed it a million times before without noticing it. “That would…
It’s about time I dusted this thing off. I’ve wanted to start writing again for months, because it’s my therapy, but thinking about it caused an up-swell of the anxiety that choked off the words to begin with. I need to write to be less anxious, but thinking about writing gives me anxiety. Which I could…
So I had a blog, once. Or I have one. I’m not really sure which. The last time I KNOW I had a blog was 2015 when I rambled on about Charles Ingalls, pie, and existential crises. Then I got so far inside my own head that the words got stuck, and I ignored it…
Being a Mom is hard. There is so much stuff to remember, especially once they get into school. Special schedules, library days, and reading logs. Lunch. And I have never been much of a list maker. I used to make lists, but found that I’d just walk off without them, kind of defeating the purpose…
I can’t stand it. Everywhere I go lately I see morning routine lists. Have you seen them? Cheerful photos, bullet lists and must-dos, snuggle time, gym time, and fresh smoothie recipes made from steamed baby spinach and organic fruits (guaranteed to be watered daily by the purified and desalinated tears of angels). (The smug part…
My hearing tests as perfect. Hy husband disputes those findings, but it’s been consistent over a decade. My hearing is perfect. Last night I was messing around with my new-to-me dishwasher, while my son played in the living room. I could hear him talking and singing as he made Mario commit suicide, just for the…
Do you know who gets a hair cut once a year? Mountain men. Charles Ingalls. Probably Lewis and Clark. And me. Somehow this, along with so many other things, has slid into a strange dark compartment I call “later.” I haven’t “let myself go” after becoming a mom. I pushed and pulled and climbed until…
