Yesterday I wrote. . .

This: The constancy with which my brain flits around?, when I want to staple it to one particular subject? damnit.

I don’t have adhd or anything even close. But man, the way my brain skitters from the things I must think, or do. Reptilian, arachnid. Disgusting and in my own flipping head. The car certainly took over great swathes of field for the past few weeks, but I’ve got work to do, and tv to avoid.

also this:

I really want to be away, in isolation someplace, and I even want it to be something I have to stretch through, struggle with. I think I need to face myself. Label the parts of me that flit and merge and morph. I think the slips of paper will coalesce into something I can understand more.

me. yesterday, 12/6/22

I’m grateful for woodstoves. Coffee. Soft clothing.

I’m grateful that I’ve started to hold real boundaries. That I can see that they are good for me, that they hold me to the standard of protecting myself, in a healthy way. I’m grateful that I can rely on my sense of humor, even when I don’t know how I can possibly be accessing it. I’m just glad that I can walk through the world like I can.

I’m grateful for the time and the space I’ve had these last 7 years. This ability to ‘not work’, pay my bills and watch the kids grow, all because I married someone who now makes a lot of money. How ’bout that. I suppose I am supposed to stretch and say I’m glad I married him. Sigh. Working on it.

So glad of them, though, so unblemished a gratitude… so grateful that they exist, so proud that I find them so interesting and funny and full of heart.

pile of covered books
Photo by Pixabay on

All in one day, folks. All in one day. It’s astonishing I’ve not won the Pulitzer, isn’t it?


Mind smithereens, February.

Dearest February,

I’m so distracted today, my brain is lying in shards around me. I do have writing to do today, and I’ll be pretty lucky if I even open the document. or, I suppose lucky might be the wrong word.

and lest you think, ‘oh kate is so wildly lucky, it doesn’t matter if she works or not.’, I am seriously fucking myself with my inability to focus. Its true though, that I don’t have a boss, and only one deadline this week and I have innumerable hours. So yes, kate is wildly lucky. and totally fucked.

I’ve made the coffee, i’ve got laundry going, I took out the too-full trash and fed the chickens. I’ve got a little headache and I’m drinking water. I’ve been sleeping full-on shittily this week. Sigh.

How does one approach picking up shards? Should I be trying for a sweep? Or a careful one-at-a-time?

Its been brought to my attention, again, the rawness of this writing here, and I’m really grateful for all of you who read it, and have been able to handle it. Keep the faith. Know how much I love that you can handle it. Its a rare crew that can dive and resurface, and then do it again. I see you.

love love,


Crate of maple syrup, not smashed to smithereens. No shards here.