Car dealership. Again.

Last time I was here, they handed me the keys with the caveat, ‘if it doesn’t work the first time, just try it again.’

The dealership. The guys who are supposed to know every single thing about the make that they sell.

Sigh. They also suspected that I was turning it on wrong. The car I own, and have owned for almost ten years.

Its my boobs. My boobs are so damn distracting that men of all ages are fucking idiots and think I can’t turn on my damn car because I have breasts.

So. here I am again, same place, because you know, i need my car to turn on every time, and my mechanic insists that the keys have to be programmed by the dealer. he wouldn’t do me wrong, i’m pretty sure. he probably knows i have breasts but he might not have noticed. or, it didn’t matter that much. he certainly thinks i can start my own car.

person in grey shirt handing keys
‘ Good Luck Out There’. Photo by Negative Space on

I’m going to leave here today, hopefully, and buy myself some lottery tickets. One or more, and maybe some scratch tickets, because you know? You just can’t win if you don’t play the game.

also, the coffee machine here is out of order.


love you.

(I’m working on my latest writing project in the waiting room here. only 20 K more to go. Did I tell you the whole place is under construction? It is. yes.)

really, its love, i swear.

  • kate

Fidgets and Suddens.

My eight year old is obsessed. Can’t stop trying to spend her money on little bits of plastic that squish, or pop or spin. It is making me nuts, causing my inner panic buttons to be pressed about waste and the future and poverty and sea turtles.


And my house seems to be decomposing. Everything is breaking down this fall: cars, toilets, dryers, lightswitches, everything you can imagine. The suddenness of so many of them are keeping me from writing, which, you know, is how i make the money to cover the sudden things. My bills are mostly paid with child support and some alimony, but this extra stuff is all me, and i got a quote for a big ticket item that will curtail some of the constant littler things and i’m just overwhelmed guys, does one use savings in hopes that savings aren’t needed for a different sudden thing? its a many pronged fork and i just want to use my teeth. rip and gnash. get that?

it’ll all be fine, i know.

Today’s sudden was a toilet that isn’t filling with water, in its tank. Tomorrow’s sudden will be a handyman coming to visit. Friday I will be going back to the car dealership to fling myself on their mercy, again. There are days when there is nothing, and then a little fidget, and a Sudden will appear. Most days I’m good, I can swing with it.

and then there are the other days.

Its a Thriller video. It is.

Love you guys. I do. I’ll see you on the other side, with some things crossed off the list probably.


  • me.
white toilet paper roll on ceramic toilet
Photo by Vie Studio on


Writing week. Thursday.

I’m sitting at a car repair place again, this time, a dealership, because evidently that is the only way forward. hundreds and hundreds of ways. the man behind the counter is handsome and i’ve already glimpsed at a naked ring finger.

yes, that makes me sick, too. I will not take another step, just sitting my ass down, maybe not facing that direction.

i’m starting to feel a little bit like dating is work. and thats no good. weary and curious cannot exist in the exact same space.

but here i am, in the car repair waiting room. and i smell coffee but can’t find it, and thats maddening. it is not for me? is it not for me?

it was a big day yesterday. I had two ‘very important’ new things. (virtual via zoom, both of them.)

  1. a meeting with a spiritual director. she is an old, virtual friend of mine, though i have actually met her in person and even shared food. she’s finishing a program in spiritually directing people and i am a rambling, distractable seeker. Seeker. yes i am. we talked a lot about how to ritualize some of my daily tasks, imbue them with my feelings about the divine.
  2. a meeting with a potential new therapist. she uses a similar modality to the last therapist I liked, called IFS (Internal Family Systems) which encourages and allows all the different voices we hear in our heads, in our body. For example, the voice which tells me I’m doing just fine with the kids, in contrast to the voice which panics internally any time there is the smallest hitch in their happiness levels. Defensiveness, aggression, shame, pride, all the things are just fine, and working together to protect and defend my inner golden core. I’m good. I don’t need quite as much protection as they think I do, so its a matter of going in, diving down to see what my pieces are doing in there. it suits me very well, and I think we’ll be a match. Its amazing how explaining myself to someone can make me feel shame, and how much that is exactly why I am there.

Go get yourself a therapist. Everyone should have one. Yes, I mean you.

I also had another first date. Will let you know.

The waiting room is playing Sarah Mclachlan. Never fails to make me feel teenaged angst. Hello Dawson, its me… get off my fucking roof. Its not my favorite re-do, I’ll tell you that.

Did I tell you I’m 47? I am. Deeply.

love love,

me. ( i found the coffee!)

toddler wearing floral dress holding doll
This means something. How are you facing things today?
Photo by Саша Лазарев on

Comfort levels.

I had a whole post about shyness and isolation and how I can’t go to PTO meetings because I’m shy and its exhausting to think about listening that hard.

And i erased that mother fucker.

Sometimes I just want to shout about how fucking content I am.

I’m eating a RingDing right this very second.

Well, okay, its gone now. But there is one more waiting in the wings.

And, there are four books within reach right now. And I’m typing on a laptop that doesn’t need to be upgraded right now, in my quiet kitchen, my dog and cat are both curled up nearby.

Second RingDing is going down, and I’m going to write all morning.

I go to the farm to bask in brilliant farm light after lunch. I will bring gloves, a hat and an extra sweater.

I’m incredibly lucky.

Yes, I’ve got issues and worries and loneliness. But goddammit. Look at what I have.

Week of writing, reading commences now. Seven days. Every day.

I’m going to be writing for a week, a full seven days. Whether it ends up here or not, I don’t know. I’m going to concentrate on reading too, and I’m dropping my phone on the floor many times, so that it stops alerting me to stupid shit.

Love you much.





You read something, it lights you up. Sweet.

You realize there’s a vacancy where your pain used to be. Sweet.

Your kid has a big first. You watch a milestone unfold. Grace.

You say no without much guilt. Deliverance.

You just don’t pick up the phone to answer that person. You just don’t. Small choices, big relief.

You take care of the new application for health insurance coverage (so many things to copy and prove) and don’t even choke when they need all your ex’s information and you don’t know it and they say you can’t insure the kids on your own. You just know it will work out. Blooming faith.

You clean the cat room. You can’t believe people allow litter boxes in their lives, again. You just do it because you are the grown up in the house. This one is slowly sinking in, at 47.

Little ones, big ones.

Its where I’m at, friends.

love love,


road landscape nature sand
Photo by Magda Ehlers on