Sunday, October 23, 2011


are you bitter?  do you find yourself rolling your eyes at people who smile too much?  why does it matter that your jeans will never fit the way you want them to?  why does that sometimes make you feel like you've missed something really important?  why do you struggle so much with middles?  everything happens in the middle.  beginnings and endings are for pussies.  you are not a pussy.  or are you?  are you capable of making a meal everyone will adore?  would the food taste better if your jeans fit like they should?  if you are the protagonist, what is it that you want?  what are you seeking?  your daughter wants to be an adult; she wants to stand in front of her own stove and push the food around, wondering if any of it is what it should be.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011


the house is empty.  the dishes echo when i put them away.  i walked the dog and saw two dead honeybees in the gutter.  the trees have begun their beautiful goodbye.  wild animals are on the loose in ohio.  their cages broken, their keeper dead.  lions & tigers & bears.  keep the children home from school.  lock the doors.  make cookies and keep your eyes to the windows.  

Tuesday, October 11, 2011


another batch of house guests T minus 48.

sometimes i fantasize about my own life.  my own regular, dull, hermit-like life.

but at least the excuse for a dismal writing week is better than, gee, i wonder what kinds of curtain are for sale on etsy, or hmmm, is veganism possible for me, or wow, colum mccann really knows what the hell he's up to.  

Wednesday, October 5, 2011


i've been thinking a lot about how time changes us.  not just physically, though that's always floatin' around.  but when i think about who i was when i met the mister or had my babies, it's safe to say that i was pretty different.  and that's the beauty of those experiences:  they've forever left their mark on me.

i remember a conversation i had with a 7th grade boyfriend.  we were talking on the phone one night (remember those days) and i was sprawled across my iron bed with my feet on the wall.  we talked for hours about what kind of car we'd each drive when we were adults and married.  huh?  yeah.  look at me in the minivan, now!  i remember how i thought those things--the toys, the clothes, the pets--would determine the kind of life you had.  it was just a matter of choosing the right car, etc., and then everything would fall into place.  obviously, the ugly blue station wagon that my mom drove was an irreversible step into dorkdom.  it was because of that station wagon that she didn't "get" me.  that i wasn't allowed to go to friends houses if their parents weren't home (little did she know. . .).  that she didn't think loud music was fun or have any plans on new year's eve.

so, last night i became a traitor to my own 11 year-old-self:  e is not allowed to go to friends houses if there is not an adult at home.

how long will this rule last?  she wants to know.  in high school, too?

oh, yeah.