Lost, Alone, and a list.

I don’t have a paid job this week and so i’m a bit adrift. I finished up my project early so its supposed to be a good thing, a break. but i’m just freaking morose.

I know the NYTimes had labeled it Languishing. but its not right, I’m sorry, the fruitlessness, the vagurey of this time has some words of its own, and its more than that. the recognition of a deep dissatisfaction. the recognition, further, that there is nothing you are truly willing to do to change it?


so here is a list of what i have done today, because it is all about clinging to sanity here.

  1. I have gotten three kids to school, with a very small amount of frustration or verbal list-making… i.e. do you have your cleats, your glove, are there socks on your feet?
  2. I have checked a half dozen times on the new pullets i got last week. they are holding their own against the older hens, for now.
  3. I have watched a chicken jump almost six feet straight up to escape the run that I have been fixing up all weekend. Motherfucker.
  4. I have done laundry that is all my own, and some of theirs and they’ll be able to turn in last season’s uniforms freshly laundered. Believe me, i have given that as a gift to another mother.
  5. I have put the dishwasher through.
  6. I made tonight’s dinner already because its bubbling in the crockpot. Butter chicken, babies. If you are not familiar with Indian Food, then just please come visit me. This is my first time making this and aside from collecting the spices initially, it was super easy. I am very much ready to eat it now. it is only 3:30 in the afternoon.
  7. I’ve eaten so much sugar in the past two weeks that I’ve messed up all my intestinal, internal floras and faunas and so now I am on an antibiotic which means I cannot have any alcohol. So of course it is all I can think about. Tomorrow is the last day.
  8. I’ve watched an episode of Alone. I can’t function while cold, I don’t know how these men and women do it.
  9. I have applied the beauty-fying face cream. Not holding my breath.
  10. I’ve arranged for my dog to be played with this weekend while i have a beautiful 24 hour escape with my sister. unprecedented.
  11. And here, this. Adrift

Leaving marks in the wilderness,


brown pie on brown wooden tray
Not my naan, not my dinner, Photo by Saveurs Secretes on

Drop the Flinch, February.

I have a new office.

My back is turned to all of the kid action and there aren’t any plants or birds to stare at. The desk my laptop is on is empty still, empty of knicknacks and unnecessariness. Its definitely strange. The two pieces of artwork in front of me are fascinating me. They are darkly colorful and I dig it.

I have new guilt.

I can’t really hear the boys who are remote learning. I don’t see them start milling about when it is time for lunch. This is roughly my third day with this space. Today was my first day with kids in school and an actual routine and I forgot to make them lunch. I forgot to make them lunch. I’m pretty sure they just ate snack food all day.

Hmm. Am I a 70s mom?

I don’t think of myself as a helicopter parent at all. but clearly, it is not necessary for me to be in the middle of the action.

So is this guilt or am I feeling a loss of relevance? Or, have I done my job so fucking well that they function at a subsistence level without me just fine? Like, the wolves will not get them, ya dig?

I’m here, its almost dinner time and I’m still in here, typing. I got three times as much done today as I usually do. Its all the uninterrupted time, looking at the damn computer, that’s what it was. What will happen now that I know this trick?

When the boys were little I was in a shock-and-awe phase for quite a while. They were so damn risk-friendly, I was flinching all the time. After a while, I got over it, as a survival mechanism, an adaptation to have a healthier life. There is a point you have to look away, for your own health.

And that’s where I find myself again. Looking away, at least, more often. What will open up for me? What will open up for them?

I know, I know, Virginia Woolf. I know.

but yeah, that. here it is.

love love.


BLOAT. February.

its a snow day of sorts. everything is panicky shutting down but the kids still had ‘remote’ learning. i took two of us for covid tests today, because of exposures.

two of four. right?

i took us to fast food when it was all done and now i feel bloated, at all the ends, and does everyone feel like this but just forget each time? The only good thing about a quarter pounder is the pickle. and it even looked disgusting. but i still ate it.

its beautiful outside.

i haven’t written in three days and i’m fearful of letting it go any longer. The kids are embattled with each other today and I don’t know what its about, but maybe they’re responding to the food too.

the snow is so beautiful and the ground is too warm to let it stick, so driving is a pleasure and there is a feeling of cozy, even in the car.

i have my green tea with ginger waiting and i’m trying to work through my feelings and i’m tired of the way i seem to fling myself about. why can’t i just move sedately like adult people? i feel just a mass of limbs lately. today. today i feel that way, a pile of frog legs on the plate.

i’m too full.

bloat. february. bloat.

love love,



Pfft, January.

i’m a little stuck as to a writing topic today. The grocery store threw me. I had my list, and I kept throwing more things in, like the list was just a baseline and it was full on chaos in my cart, i tell you.

i got chicken wings but no buffalo sauce. what the ever loving hell?

burrito spice but the wrong kind of tortillas. the kids will revolt. i’m trying to get them into corn, as its more lots of things, but its going to be rough rough going.

i bought myself a kombucha to drink but then made a smoothie. with a protein powder that i also bought. hello, i am drinking chocolate-colored chalk. and i’m forcing myself to because HEALTH! I SPENT MONEY ON IT!

i got everything to make a crockpot meal today and i already know i’m not going to like it. What fresh hell is this? Why do i have to eat chicken and black bean spicy chili? Why can’t these kids live on mac and cheese forever and shut the hell up?

if i only make what i like we will all have rickets.

so good goddamnit, already. someone send me a chef. preferably single, of age, with sparkly eyes and a penis.

thank you.

love love,



January claims me, utterly.

These are the things I claim and acknowledge…some of them.

  1. The sorrow that I live with still. The rage that my kid’s dad had a meh-good marriage, and I didn’t, and I think all the time about bad things he probably thought of me and how unfair it is that I lived like that for so long. And the rage that that is not a shared experience, it was just mine. My better part wouldn’t wish it on him, but man, there is still rage. Just one day, if he could have seen what it was like, for just one day.
  2. I need to claim all the days when none of that matters, because there are so many more of them than any other kind. There is so much movement away from that. And I am thrilled and part and parcel of that is how often I don’t even notice.
  3. I claim my boredom and how much I wish more for my kids of this time and how damn conflicted I feel about all of this. What is risk? What is risk of exposure? Is that a category that battles with need for socialization or physical exercise? Indoor soccer practice? Is that a vector that will kill my mother in law? Its too much, I claim this boredom and fanatical perseveration. It is mine.
  4. I claim the nature of mine that will give and give and seek and then hit a wall and be done. The fucking steely cold center of a glowing orb.  Like, I can only go so long without reciprocity, you know? I’m not for everyone and everyone is not for me and I need to get with that more readily.
  5. I need to acknowledge how good I am at sabotaging myself. I’m not eating well and I’m not exercising. I’m worrying about my weight and not doing anything about it. And I’m not job-searching, which is part and parcel of this freelance writer-editor thing. I AM taking my anti-depressants and considering how to better and more often make smoothies. I like to add kale, for my eyes. BUT I hate the mixer, with a passion. Its super bulky and I don’t believe I get it clean. It makes me pissy when I take it off the fridge. Are you so thrilled I am sharing today? It was a wedding present, believe it or not. Maybe its time.
  6. I claim that I am super-charged when it comes to feeling loved when people affirm me. It’s a way to show me love and I feel it best. I had a friend from 14! years ago tell me she liked to read my stuff this morning and honestly, my head feels like it will pop off with joy. Just to know someone reads it? And likes it? I am honestly over the moon. Its so simple. I need affirmations, but it does not make me needy. It fills me up and makes me feel loved and ehem, affirmed.
  7. I claim that this is a long-ass writing and I’m getting bored with it, as I type. This is the kind of thing I’m not supposed to share. Will this stop me? Not today Satan, not today.
  8. I claim a deep deep restless ness and because of #5, I am stuck. I have been thinking a lot about moving out all the furniture that is not used or broken… but I don’t have a truck, I don’t have a dump sticker, I don’t have…. And so I just sit in my juices of stuck. And of course those are all solvable, for chrissakes. What the hell.
  9. I admit to a certain addictive element to my personality. This week’s obsession, besides the fucking phone? Cinnamon bears. There is always a sugar element to my problematic behavior- the phone handles the dopamine. I ate a whole bag on Friday and I swear to god, it is still sitting in my stomach. Should I get some more?
  10. I admit to being a little lost sometimes. I’m handling it.
Eddie the black dog, looking right at me.