Buying a car.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t perseverating on it all the time, buying a car. I am. I really am. I’m ceaselessly looking up used cars and reviews and a whole lot of other stuff I am deeply immersed in temporarily. I’m making a male friend come with me each time, to get better prices. I’ve only been to one lot so far, but it was pretty damn tough to get them to look at me. I also know that all of this is information I do not want in my head for any longer than it need be there. I also miss my dad a lot. He’d keep me on the straight and narrow. It does actually make it harder, the time I spend missing him. I don’t want to get pissed off about something so fruitless.

If you have a weird job life, it is hard to get a loan.

I get it. I mean, be careful who you loan money to! I can tell everyone left front and center that my mortgage is MORE THAN PAID by child support and alimony, and they still won’t give me a loan. Which means, my friends, and i’m not even sure that this is a complaint yet, that I am looking at cars below ten thousand dollars, (well, up to 15) and figuring out how to make it work with resources cobbled.

And truly, when i say i’m not sure this is a complaint, I think about continuing on with minimal to no car payments. no further debt. no anchor pulling me down into forever and ever trapped below. And, the last car I bought was when married, relying on someone else’s income, sized to fit three growers and all their buggies, and now i can get something that is more suited to ME. . . and now I will be relying on my very amazing own.

and I can, and that is that.

Yes, there will be car repairs. surely. But it won’t feel that bad to not have another bill right now.

I don’t like how I am around money. Buying a car has brought much crap to the surface, globs of it burbling around. I don’t trust how I want to draw attention to myself in the struggle. It occurred to me that I should add my venmo somewhere in here and leave it there. There is something in it, a lurking gollum, like a gambler who says its just for kicks, but has that look in their eye. I’m not sure I trust myself not to make it seem like a bigger deal, just to pull on a heartstring. This is abhorrent. There is a lot in here. I am suspiciously comfortable with the ‘its okay to help me’ routine. I mean, it is okay, but not like this, this feels salesman-y, and I can see what that is like, and how it feels, and it can’t be me. *And it makes everything easier if there is someone to blame, so let’s drag out the old lameass ex to run him through the mud a couple times too. Shall we? Sigh. There is still work to be done.

If it occurs to you to give me money, please make a donation to something women-centered in your local area. There are women in much greater need than I am. I’m going to buy a car. I will not be without.

So there. Wish me strength in navigation and a strong brush with good luck.



white animal skull on top of vehicle
Yeah baby!! Photo by pascal claivaz on

All jokes aside, I kind of wish this car were an option.


Times are long. Nuts.

This weekend my cousins and aunts and uncles gather here. It was a yearly tradition to gather somewhere and the past few were here, before covid. Its been a long time now, three years maybe, since we gathered.

i’m excited. really pleased and happy. i like my whole family, even those who are so different from me. and they are, really, different.

my kids will be home, and that always makes me feel more myself, which I deeply like. (hear that? I deeply like myself.)

the other side of the coin: dishwasher broke. its brand new. literally within the past month. (yes, i know i should call someone) septic broke. true feelings about my house came out, when my mom recommended a team of four to come clean it. i have ignored this, and cleaned, but it makes me worry about judgement, because my family is really good at ‘the look’. car broke, has no heat and every time it starts i am happy, but also very stressed. (Septic cleared for the moment; all is well for thirty plus guests) I’m finding this side of the coin exhausting. truly exhausting. like, i’d like to sleep through it.

(this is not a sign of liking myself, by the way. not at all.)

and there’s all the people missing, of course. and i made my mother-in-law’s cranberry relish and i’ll put it out on the table and my heart will cry a little. and the photo of my dad has been cleaned off to look presentable. (because thats the kind of cleaning i care about. there’s probably a whole lot of doghair in the wrong place somewhere.) I’m good with details and not the big picture, i guess. But i’m just going to trust that people love me and can live without insulting me or my house for a day. We’ll see. I’ll be okay.

i’m really looking forward to seeing my people. we are a family that gives fantastic hugs, and i’m going to revel in it. a couple of my cousins remind me so much of my dad that its almost painful, and i’m going to revel in that too. while crying a little more on the inside.

and then it will be done, and I’ll still be okay.

There is more love to be found out there, I just have to look for it. Its all mixed up with a whole bunch of things right now. A nut bowl. Who’s going to try the Brazil Nut? Really.

Deep sigh. Going to make a lasagna now, and clean something small, or big, depending on how I’m feeling.

or maybe i’ll read my book. its a mexican soap opera of a thing. definitely escaping. so be it.

lovelove you. hope your heart is full of love, one way or another, no matter what nuts you might have eaten along the way.


close up of a mix of nuts
Photo by Mark Stebnicki on

Back on the log

I’m feeling all Twin Peaks-y, which, for me, just means I am feeling inexplicably weird. Maybe velveteen in the corner for no reason, just petting the log, maybe dancing.

if you know, you know.

I just had therapy for the first time in months. I ended up cancelling out totally in the summertime, finding time to schedule it in was proving too hard and the stress was ridiculous. It was so sweet, I like my lady so much, and it was good to talk about the stuff I had percolating when I first made the appointment, almost a month ago now. Its all that stuff about the season, you know, and the fear of loss, and the inevitable loss, and the mom-ing, and daughtering, and soldiering on.

Everyone should have a therapist. C’mon. Get your log burning, baby.

I’m craving simple things. I want Matthew McConaghey in the seventies, in the orange pants of Dazed and Confused. I remember them as orange anyhow.

I’m tending a sick kid today, nothing serious, just cranky and ‘something’. I’ve got the time to do it, so I am. She’s curled up at my side as I type. We’re watching the fire.

Tuesday I wrote this about the woodstove:

It’s a big black box, yes, in the middle of my circus kitchen. But there is nothing better here. Nothing more needed, more central, when it comes down to it. The most reliable object of the home. No plug required. Not loss if the power goes out. Just four walls, a roof and a door and I feel like I can provide for the family. Really. I wonder if that’s all it was, as I worked Monday, the feeling of managing things. I’m on top of it all, if I can make a fire. Not buried in the avalanche, but on top of the pile, having dug myself out . I’m resting now, in the light. Clear yellow instead of the bruised blue of the snowpile.

May we all get to the top of the snowpile. (if we want to)

I love colors. so much. I wish us sunlight and color. And logs, and velvet.

-love love


depth of field photography of brown tree logs
Photo by Khari Hayden on

Yesterday was perfect

I’m pretty sure I know why.


and that is, well, proving tricky. (there’s a four-thousand-word essay in there, but not today, not for me.)

It was my first full day of working from home. plus a class. and I was not full of fight. I just settled in, made a fire, and got to work. I had work. I had a meeting. I wasn’t googling things or sending messages, I was just working, and talking about work, in my kitchen, surrounded by 10th birthday party decorations.

The boys got home, as their soccer season officially ended with Sunday night’s loss and devastation. They were so happy the fire was lit, the house was warm. Home, cozy, together, mom working while they putzed around. If its possible, I’m going to encapsulate this one and swallow it down, keep it forever. The day I managed things.

It all got managed. Work, warmth, kids, food, laundry, creative thinking, all of it. Like a frosting swirl that is just the perfect amount and not too sweet. Perfect.

I did that. I had that day. I’m just going to sit in it for awhile and ignore everything else going on today.

love you guys.


The view from the writing spot

Not five, but blathering on…


Its early morning here, now. My kids are all here, settled, sleeping still, after a whirlwind of a day yesterday. My former father-in-law is also here. He’ll be 90 in January. He’s a character, and unpredictable, and almost 90. 90. (eyes wide and oh my god all over the place) full houses do make me happy, and tired too.

The boys had another championship/states soccer game, which they won. The almost10 year old was picked up with a friend from school early by yours truly and we watched. Well, the girls helped in the snack shack and I watched the game. At this point, knowing what it means to the boys, I can hardly stand the nervous excitement. I’m a real sports watcher right now, full of angst and under-the-breath commentary. (no book, no phone)

The next game conflicts with lovey’s 10th birthday party, which I am hosting, so i’m not going to see it. It is also two and a half hours away, and at seven pm. (lets do that math, shall we? the game will most likely finish at 8:30 pm, with a two-and-a-half-hour drive home afterwards. ehem. solidly in favor of considering children and families in the planning of sports events. solidly. seems I am something of a rarity.)

After the game today, there was a Homecoming Dance. My boys are flipping ridiculously handsome and good nature too, mostly. But RIDICULOUS. so they were dressed and dazzling and I woke up in a panic at four because I didn’t know where they were.

home, in bed. The days are numbered when my panics will be resolved so easily. My eldest won’t be in bed here next year and I’m definitely in a low-grade constant panic about that these days. mix it up with the season, the grief and its a doozy.

So. What do you do when you’re in a tizzy? You add another job. (if you are me, that is. busy minds, busy hands, calm tizzies, something like that) Or perhaps you take a class. I’ve got three separate groups that I write with currently. And one class which I like but will be glad when it ends, because it conflicts with freaking everything.

and i’d really like to learn more about end-of-life caregiving. I know, this is a big thing, sort of a rarity perhaps in blog subject matter. at least here. but, really. If I balance it with the farming, and the flowers, perhaps I’d be good at that, be a flaming ball of goodness in the world.

And i’d still really like to get a greenhouse going.

And i’d really like to win powerball.

i’d like to finish the stupid story.

i’d like to take a pottery class.

i’d love to paint again.

i’d love to figure out how to keep rosemary alive indoors.

i’d like to figure out what i can make with five pieces of saffron that I grew myself.

i’d love to tell you all about how i wrote about a character this week who had bones like coral. isn’t that a beautiful but thought-provoking image? a real focaccia of skeleton.

like and love baby. thats what its all about.

thank you for reading and say hey sometime too, because i like and love that too.



black and white bones hand x ray
Photo by Pixabay on