my problem is rapture.


Rapture is a problem for me these days. I can hardly stand to make a bouquet of flowers, because each SINGLE BLOSSOM sends me into a state of rapture. The color, the intricacy, the variety? I gasp so frequently, I am left breathless.

Have you looked at flowers ever? I mean, if all things are logic, biology and scientific advantage, and survival, then what the hell is a snapdragon? Chamomile? Daisy? Hydrangea?

The weeds by the road are only that because we can’t control them. ‘Weeds’, the anarchists. Me, ‘the man’.

I choose not to be ‘the man’ this week, or in this life. SO. I make bouquets of wildflowers and lose my breath frequently as I walk through greenhouse after greenhouse of astonishment. I feel the constancy of the bursting heart. My heart is growing with the experience and I feel lucky about that.

Change is coming, and I wonder a little bit about what sort it will be. There are some clear ones coming. My children are growing and the changes of who lives with me are coming soon, and my heart is breaking daily, in preparation. Maybe it is making me more resilient in the long run. I can’t believe its already here, this time.

I don’t know much of what I want to be in my life, I just know how I want to be. I just know that I want to hang on to being overwhelmed by beauty. I just know that I want to be laughing, and making people laugh. I want to be loved and appreciated and I want to glow when I look at the people I love. (i do that already. I’m smiling at you, people i love.)

I’ve got a lot of worries, like most people. I’m confused about how to bring in more money and more stability financially. I’ve got to start doing more of all of that. AND my friends, why are we living in a society in which beauty-gazing is not a career? I kid, and I do not, all at once.

Just found out I didn’t win powerball again. This time, I had actually bought a ticket.

Sigh. Go on, tell me about the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, the breath-taker.

Go on.

Zinnias, black-eyed-susans, wild sweetpeas, chamomile, hydrangea and snapdragons, waiting to be bouquets.

These are the days of Bartleby.

I’m in therapy.

Hollah, situational depression!

And yesterday I asked to just do a half session because I was boring myself.

If that’s not hysterical, I don’t know what is. There could be an entire skit about this.

These are the days of Bartleby, I tell you. I’m still adjusting to the kids being in school full time, it is so weird to have the house empty all week, and it just keeps happening. I just joked that I kept eating all three lunches. I do crack myself up, depressed or not. Probably save myself a dozen times a day.

This is the third week in a row, of full time schooling, this year. I’ve had them home for a year, with me, growing right in front of my face. There will never be another year like this, I know. I miss the hungry buggers, it is so unsatisfying to have them gone all the time. so very. There is too much time in the day, and yes, I wish everyone else had this luxury and could show me how to handle it. I feel like the family dog, eddie. He’s morose now, with the kids gone all the time. Lots of depression sleeping, more than normal anyhow.

And I hope you know my titular reference, but in case.. Bartleby the Scrivener was a famous character in a Melville serial, famous for saying “I would prefer not to” and those around him were powerless to affect him in any way, because he just kept replying that way. Bartleby, please remove your things from this office…. make me some copies of this… for instance.

“I would prefer not to” is entirely descriptive of a mood that swings through me daily. I get up, I do my thing, I try to protect the hen-pecked chicken, (i’m really not sure she’s going to make it, i want to isolate her but I think that might make it worse- she could lose the few friends she has…) I water the plants, I tend, I tend. I do the things. I do. I even write, or think about writing, or talk about writing. I do. I text. I reach out, gently. But I don’t wanna. I am feeling the ‘force yourself’ of mild depression or pandemica or whatever this is. I’m tired of forcing myself. I want to feel the clarity of ‘I want to.’ and ‘this is fun’.

I’m not joyless or anything, not at all. I am still a beauty hunter and I see it all around me. it’s just not ‘moving me’ like it used to. I need to be dragged, and the ‘to-do’ list of errands and chores is not an effective hook.

side note: there is an actual robin’s nest outside my window, and I watch baby robin’s daily now. So, being depressed in the face of that miracle is really damn hard, so I deserve some kind of medal, right?

second side note: i am starting to make plans to see friends for coffee. so i am trying, actively. super-actively. well, for me.


no, i am not asking you to do that. I am just going to put it on the list, though. See if I can force myself through this shit.

(ehem. no thanks, I prefer not to.)

love love,


Bartleby, assessing the laundry.


Photo Bliss: January

Sometimes the world arranges itself to be caught by a photograph.

  • toy puzzles. color coded. bliss and joy and missing pieces. its done now, and we are sad to put it away, because man, those colors and shapes float my boat.

look what grows, and grows and grows. i know this: if we destroy the world, life will still be here. weirdly enough, this calms me.

I love these pajamas of mine. my work clothes. i used to get dressed. i probably will again, someday. today all three are home while we wait the results of the covid test. Something is being created from cardboard on the other side of the kitchen table.

When you live in a beach town you know the best days are not summer days.

Getting the chickens done. Bring a camera.

love you guys,



December Hush

We’re having a nice old snowstorm today, a little light on the storm and quite satisfying on the snow.

Cars are still going down my street so the slight whoosh of cars through the snow is the only modern day sound going on out there.

I called my two boys out absent so they could sleep late and maybe go sledding. My 8 year old girl wanted nothing more than to go login to class, so she’s currently giggling with her teacher online.

My dog is so chill he is currently eating his food while laying down. This, I find remarkable. But he may actually be tired. He is one of those dogs who is literally ecstatic about snow. He’s been asking to go out every 15 minutes, just to play. It is awesome to watch. My kids aren’t even as excited as he is.

I plan on wrapping some things for non-children people and maybe I’ll watch a Christmas movie.

Its so beautiful out there. And its pretty beautiful in here.

(I missed yesterday’s writing, because I had a headache which made me throw up all over my kitchen. Seriously. I had to fast for bloodwork so couldn’t take any medicine or eat food, and whammo. After bloodwork I just sat around with a coffee and ate a bunch of white bread. its my one day a week with no kids and work on the agenda. I was very sad, but could not read or write, just sit still like a dummy, and rally up the energy needed to clean up my own puke. glad i filled you in? oh yes, yes you are.)

but now its beautiful. All my kids are here, the heat is working, the snow is falling. My neighbor came by with a front end loader and cleared the top of my driveway. This is how I know I no longer live in the city. One of the ways.

but now it is beautiful. I am just in love with it. Staring out the window is my spirit animal.

love you guys.