I’m at a baseball game in the middle of the day. I mean, I guess they are all in the middle of the day. Fair enough.

I spent the morning trying to arrange rides for all the kids. It was successful and everyone is going to have a good time and that makes me feel all glowy, while i feel like shit at the very same minute because I am absent. this is not good. (goddamned school vacation, and all) and then i drove to my mom’s so that she could drive me to work.

Then, at work, I spent the morning walking my boss’s dogs because one of them was having surgery and my boss was feeling crazy stress and worry and so I went with her to the vet.

And now I am here, having gotten my car out of the shop for an insanely large amount of credit card usage. Its another one of those splits. 1.I am thrilled to have my car back and I would throw any amount of debt-incurring at it to have it back. who cares? and 2. I am feeling nauseous about finances.

But i have my car, and i made it to the game to see him play. I’m good. Its all good.

And I’m sitting in my car, looking at the greens and the golds, and the faintest blue of the sky, and being swept with meloncholy. I feel watery.

I don’t see a way out of some of where I find myself, well, not a way that I like.

Sigh. You know what new phrasing has arrived in our american language that I really like?

I am feeling some type of way.

I am.

I am feeling some type of way.

But I have my car, and I made it to the game, and I am sitting in my car doing something I really love to do, write, and think, simultaneously.

So there.

I am going to find a pigpile of joy today, never you fear. But for now? Watery.



I’m not proud. The bestie was here and we smoked ’em while we had ’em.

And today I’m stopping. Its been about three weeks? at least two full weeks. And i’d love to tell you I was just dabbling, but no. I had to tell my kids and everything, because I was whole hog and I couldn’t stand the idea of sneaking around. That’s not my bag.

Its not okay. And I’m going to be a full-on bitch while I try to kick it again. FULL ON.

There is this though. I found pieces of myself that I thought were gone when she (the bestie) was here. And then another old friend visited, and I found some more. I don’t know where the hell they were, but I certainly hadn’t seen them for a decade or so. And part of that was the person that I am, the woman who puts herself first, before the kids, before the overwhelming responsibility of parenting.

If you don’t have kids, thats allright, take my word for it. It is all-consuming for me. I work at home, I love my kids, I do everything in my power for them, all the time, even if it is just availability. They are the sun and the moon, and I still manage to not be a helicopter mom. I watch them with delight and I have time to listen when they actually decide to speak. Two teenager boys and a girl who might as well be. The times are big here, the issues enormous. Driving, military interests, girls, boys, friends, fear, first rejections, bravery.

The cigarette meant that I was that person before all of that. A person who could just walk out the door and sit without caring for anyone else. Free. In three minute intervals.

It got my dander UP, lets just say. (as if anyone but me would ever type a weirdass thing like that.)

I’m shook up. I need to figure out how to feel like that person again. If I chase that feeling, without giving myself lung cancer, what will it look like?

I had joy. I had a best friend. I had a life, a history, opinions, and laughter. So much laughter. A healthy dose of sexuality. An independence from my children and my obligations and love for them.

Maybe its a midlife crisis. I’d prefer to think of it as an awakening.

I went sailing for chrissakes. The kids were left to fend for themselves for dinner. Can you even believe that? Guess what? They were totally fine. And I was even better than that.

So that is where I am at. FULL ON BITCH. and trying to chase a drift of smoke.


love love.



NOVEMBER NONO: TwentyFOUR. Grateful.

Yeah, yeah, a gratitude one.

  1. I guess I’m grateful that teenager’s moods flip on a quarter toss. Because the shit flies as fast as the good. Right? I guess. The way in which they need you even while hating you is a little bit soul-breaking.
  2. I think I’m grateful that there are so many blankets in this house. At least for this six month season of needing them to stave off winter chills. I am aware that I may be a hoarder of warmth-bringers.
  3. Its probably why I like men so much, and keep collecting them. Warmth-bringers. I am grateful for my flexibility and nonjudgmental ways with them. It can be fun, and yes, there are duds. But also diamonds.
  4. I am pretty grateful for my curious ways. I’ve learned a lot about myself every year this past decade, and its not always been smooth, and I’m still curious. More curious now than I was while I was married, but I’m less hurt now. When you’re wounded, you don’t look around in wonder.
  5. I’m amazed by my kids, on the daily, even when they are outraged by my saying no. Teenagery is a bitch, a real, flat-out bitch. I’m grateful, like I already said, that I can see the childlike behind the bitch.
  6. I’m grateful for color, it pulls me out of my inner mudmunch all the time. And still, my favorite thing is to stare at the cast-iron black at my feet and know that there is fire within. Always fire within.
  7. I’m incredibly grateful that in all this pandemic time, economics hasn’t been a stressor on me. Aware, yes but not a stressor. I cannot believe my luck and my gratitude is deep for the lawyers who have set this up.
  8. I’m grateful for the super goofiness that I’ve encouraged (created?) in my kids, because it saves us all, and me, in particular. I love it so much.
  9. I’m grateful that my vanity about myself is incredibly random, as almost everything about me is. It has enabled me to gloss over my discontent with certain things. Meaning, minute to minute I forget that I’ve gained so much weight this year. Then I remember, then I let it go, and it stays gone til I remember again. Its a miracle.
  10. I’m grateful for indoor plumbing and heating. The virus has not effected either, and I am inordinately glad.

Now you. Do yours.


NOVEMBER NONO SIX: its all in the details.


whats going on around you?

What are the details of your very spot?

  1. I’m looking out the window into a rhododendron, leaves happily unfurled, a web of green hiding spots for little birds of flutter. Below the window sits the one-winged angel, and the tall and lanky santa too big for the closet. He sits out all year, grey and gold and gently smiling in a Canadian way.
  2. My feet in their old blue pumas are tucked under the chair, I’m ashamed to say I drove my kid to school in my pajamas, plus a sweater and sneakers. Camouflage?
  3. I was going to treat myself to a Friday coffee and donut but realized I am rotund, and its birthday Christmas season and that makes me prioritize funds quite a bit. So. Fat and poor means make your own damn coffee, kate.
  4. Coffee and phone next to me for text communication with the few friends I have. Realizing how fragile I am when it comes to hope. These are deeply planted seeds and there are miles of soil above me and I’m just not going for it. Tell me what the answer is when it is over and I will roll from there. I will wait for spring maybe? I wrote once, a great paragraph. Let me see if I can find it because it would be wonderful to share that one. Here it is:

You’ve watched and you’ve felt and you knelt down until these knees gave out and then you melted into the earth. And found a new root to take hold of, and I’m so thankful that you kept seeking, that the light in you sought root and stretch and painful growth through packed down soil. Because now we are here together at the cusp, the crust having broken enough to let the light down to us. We who will wait out the winter, letting leaves fall on our face, protecting us from the next storm, and the next, still catching all the filtered sun, and the warmth that soaks us. 

5. I’m all in grey, grey nightshirt and grey sweater, feet now on the charcoal black of the woodstove. Its so warm today that there is no fire, no smoke, no heat, no crackle. I might even open a window. Let some of this climate confusion blow through.

6. In the background I hear two different teachers teaching through screens. So much work these women and men have done, to entirely transfigure the way they communicate. When I think of how much I have lost by losing facial expressions on people I talk with, I think of classrooms and humor and the teaching done by socializing. I want them back in so badly, and I want it so badly to be safe for everyone. goddamnit.

7.One boy slouches on a sofa and the other rolls around in my old office chair. Back when I had an office.  I write now in the kitchen, central to the action all the time. I get visitors who need physical breaks and snack foods. I’m allright with that. Almost two teens and this is the best and last big expanse I might have with them. I’m sucking the marrow out of this while still in my pajamas and staying in the kitchen. The grease is good with me.

8.I have two friends who work in hospitals with covid patients and they are beyond stressed. Does anyone clap anymore? My phone flashes dread. I worry about them and am utterly powerless.

9.My book piles are a little out of control. There are three near me now. One towers on TOP of the woodpile. How does that make sense? Will I never build a fire again? There is one book that I am actively looking for (Hello Kerry Clare.) and the book piles seem daunting. Shift them? Everytime I look at one, I start a new book, causing more piles to pop up. Its like gremlins in water.

10. The mug that I bought myself when freshly separated is still the most beautiful one. Anthropologie ridiculous but its my initial, in flowers, and its possibly the prettiest thing I own. It sits next to my tarot cards on a table I retrieved from my sister in laws beach house. Delicate beauty and usefulness. I haven’t used the cards this month and rely on them for meditation when things go too quickly south. My mother thinks they have something to do with the devil. I don’t quite know how to address that. I just took a picture of my mug, with the phone that is flashing about elections and flirtations, and more dread. and here we have arrived at ten.

Mug on table. Floral Letter K.

get down and give me ten.



Yesterday Sucked.

I didn’t want to get out of bed. I had a headache and I wasn’t ever nice, all day. It was a little grey out, and rained in the morning. The kids watched screens for most of the day. I made muffins from a box kit. watched some Miss Fisher. Yelled about school work. Yelled at the LM, with legit disappointment in myself and in him.  Got them all outside for a hot second in the afternoon, onto the trampoline as a group. That was the only feel-good moment of an entire day.  The headache never left, was probably the inadequacy of acetaminophen against allergies.


i guess, that one of the things learned is that they DO keep arriving, these new days. I, evidently need the reminder that the days just keep coming.  As my brain falters, and my steps stutter, there is always a new morning.

One of the things I hated most about my ex was his ability to wake up in the morning, fresh as a daisy.  No matter what had happened the night before, each morning he was FRESH AND UNSCARRED.  ( i will never discount the scarring it caused ME, mind you, to have to beg for acknowledgement all of those days…it was almost as if i was living a completely parallel experience, more evidence that i was alone in all of that, so definitely alone…) But still, it was a skill… think of how that must be, to wake up like that?! and now…


the kids are resilient.  i know, we all keep saying that.  Resilient doesn’t mean happy or unhappy, anxious or calm, it just means Survival.  The kids are surviving, as am I.  Because we are so lucky to be together, to have the means, to have a yard, to have electricity, to have me being an educated in education person, with a ton of calmness and ability to provide all the bits and pieces to get them all through this… as I get myself through this too.

*regular things:

I did get my hearing checked, by a real ear dr., and got meds and relief and hearing. SO YAY. now i can hear all the yelling.

I’m cooking an awful lot, which is necessary, obviously, but LM is magically helpful. and, truth? i’m not bad at it.

i’ve got an entire zombie-fighting arsenal of resources at my disposal, and they are all inside my body, heart, brain … isn’t that fucking astonishing?


LOVE TO YOU, in your zombie-fighting.