Who she what? January.

Cynthia Lee prompt today:

Introduce yourself.

and its time, to reintroduce myself to this new crew, here. and, happily, it can fall into list form.

  1. I am she who is a mother, to three, through and through. they consume much of my world, and i feel the skin peel off when they are not here, and the great joy that they have love in other houses, even though that is complicated and more skin peels.
  2. I am the one who compulsively defends. Compulsively. I think it is in my personality to see all the sides, the justifications, and sometimes that hurts the ones I am actually loyal to. “Who’s side are you on?” is the refrain of the hurt. I’m always on their side, though, every single time.
  3. I am one of those captured by beautiful things, and you’d be surprised at (and not) what I am caught by. Chaos, Simplicity, Complexity, Decking materials, fireplaces, typefaces, brick, deterioration, pattern, waterdroplets, owl pellets, dew.
  4. I am she who sinks deep into thought, the otherworldly, the rehash of things long done, the pitterpatter of fairy toes, the simply blanks of looking. there is a meditation in my blankness that not even i can understand.
  5. I’m of age, a weaver of my beauties, a grasp at tendrils of divine, a pull of greenlife, a beat of mothering. I cannot wait to see what comes of that.
  6. I worry. I think to prepare for the worst, and know I could not ever handle that, and know I could, too. And I am betwixt and between which one I could stomach.
  7. I am the hedonist, the seeker of pleasure, gratification and sense. Finding one to match that is proving elusive. There are so many rules I can’t understand, and stumble over. Intuition and expectation street fight in muck.
  8. I’m the eyeroller. (thank god not every call is facetime) The one who allows so much bullshit to pass without confrontation. Zero confrontation. Do not mistake my lack of confrontation for respect. It is not that. I will let you have your ego. You keep it. Tend it, love it. I don’t give a shit.
  9. I’m the one who struggles with taking care of myself beyond pleasure. I am not good at the hydration and the physical fitness. I am not. I love the donuts. I’m not on many of my lists of things to do. I am also she who works on that list, every day. I’m trying, sometimes.
  10. I am the one who loves the list, the way in which you get the small capsules to read, the bits. I wrote a story in my 20s called Bites, and I loved the format and still do, of small bits and nibbles of story, and the blanks are yours, yours to roll around in, like poetry.

love love,


Woah. I am she of the up-close, too. Good lord.

January: I remember

  1. I remember the maple in front of the house I grew up in. When I was small, so was it. I climbed it for years, and not after I was 14. I wonder if it missed kids?
  2. I remember the faded and tattered blue yarn bits that were tied all over it. The blue strings tied on when my brother came home from adoption proceedings. He was a tubby six month old, all blue, all tubby.
  3. I remember the realization that I might die, during the birth of my first child, and I remember the realization that it would be okay, as long as the baby was allright. and so it begins. absolutely incredible.
  4. I remember my favorite outfit was a red terrycloth jumper with a white binding at the edge. I wore it til it was indecent. Summer second grade. my daughter has one similiar that I bought just because I WAS COMPELLED TO. She doesn’t love it enough.
  5. I remember my dad’s hands. Pretty clearly. Always warm, and so big. Now and then.
  6. I remember how I used to think I’d be a professor, and someone told me I couldn’t teach kids smarter than me. And I was crushed. But still believe it to be true. And then again, don’t. Thankfully, don’t want that job anymore. Would much prefer preschoolers. So much more joy.
  7. I remember sometimes that I write as a job. Its not a living, by any means, yet. But it could be. and how frucking amazing is that? I actually write, and people pay me. Not here though. This is all free, for all you freeloaders. (cracking up)
  8. I remember hunting for toilet paper. Do you? and then I had enough.
  9. I remember how much I like fires in the woodstove and then I stop to make one.
  10. I remember to appreciate women who work in creating things. (and men, but i only know women currently)
  11. I remember how distractable I can be, and try to tamp down, focus in.
  12. I remember how deeply I feel things that other people don’t seem to notice.
  13. I remember how thankful I am when holiday season finally ends. So very thankful.

love love,



Bahg. January bog.

Cynthia Lee prompting me to look at obstacles and bahumbug. i’ve been there, and done that, relatively recently. I’ve got a lot. and I don’t want to spend time thinking about them, because resistance is basically in my bloodstream at this point. some people do coke. so.


  1. ignore them. no, really, just plow on acting like you are not sick with fear or resentment. i mean, what the hell? just go.
  2. for the rest of us… listen to that motherfucking evil inner voice, and then shake your head madly in the kitchen and say something nice to yourself. bonus points if it is out loud or has swears in it. my favorite, “you make a kickass mac and cheese.” and i do. i really do.
  3. stare at them intensely, with your wild beady eyes, until you can pick and pluck them to nothing. leave no stone unturned, that kind of thing. also, you should probably get a therapist to help with some of it. its what they do, for fucksake.
  4. buy some more stuff.
  5. make a lot of jokes, but steer clear of hateful snarky bitchery, because that stuff leaves a stain.
  6. don’t assume that everyone has your obstacles. they fucking don’t. you are a uniquely troubled diamond of shine and love.

i love you, legit. try and stop me.


there’s no good reason for this, but a foot and some chickens… DAMNIT.

HEY! LOOK! December Changeup!

What do you think? My predilection for curses has to stay, guys. It just does.

But here is today’s list anyhow.

ala Cynthia Lee as per usual this month…

  1. Remember how easily babies can be soothed, once you know them, those four or so things that work: are they hungry, uncomfortable, lonely, sleepy? (and oh my god, this does not take into consideration cholic and god bless you if you survived that.) Cynthia points out that adults and people with age have been feeling HALTED, in the same way. Let me spell that out for you better.
    H: Hungry A:Angry L:Lonely T: Tired E: Embarrassed D: Distressed
  2. How this might play out in watching our families and ourselves? Oh, I know you can see it. I also know that being solution-oriented will run amuck with me if I follow along with too much vigor. but i can certainly look at my damn self through that lens. And I’m adding Bored under the category of distressed, because goddamnit, i struggle with that.
  3. I find if I look at my self and my people through a lens like this, I have more space for sympathy, and kindness. It brings me right back to mothering the infant, a level of simplicity that I can handle, though frucking monstrously exhausting.
  4. just having a ladder to climb that way feels so damn helpful, and hopeful. If I can look at what is going on with my kids and within my own damn messiness, my god, if i can be more kind to any of those? it may save us all.
  5. Being home all this time, for years now, with the freelance editor/writer stuff, and for ten years before that as a stay-at-homer, I can really easily forget that I am NOT AN AGORAPHOBE. seriously, I am not. Nor am I Amish, or Mennonite. I miss people. so say we all.
  6. the kids leave today, for the five day chunk. I literally just daydreamed about cleaning the bathroom. like, real clean, not kid-clean. and it would stay that way, for five whole days. the smell of cleaner? oh my god, who the hell have i become?
  7. waking up on the days they are leaving is always a little different. no matter how little i have planned, there is a sense of anticipation, for the alone time. (i have absolutely zero planned for this five days, zero. because, covid. although, maybe writing, and a trip to the post office.)
  9. Today i go to the nurse to learn how to give myself b12 injections. and i think i will feel like a rockstar once i get that underway. (so i guess thats a plan, i guess? whoop dee doo)
  10. I’m smiling a lot and there is a pressure release slowly whistling.
  11. and I made it to 11. although this, right here, is cheating.




Beach walks, there is no other light like this. . .


December 26

what are you, literally, feeling today?


(ala Cynthia, again. I love her. You should go see her. really.)

  1. my eyes are tired, they’ve got that slight delay to them, the blink is slower. i feel that.
  2. pride. i’m proud that yesterday was so nice. i had a good time. i lost my shit around 4 trying to assemble the rowing machine. but i did it. my first ever solo voyage. and the kids accepted my apology and i lay under the incredibly soft and weighted blanket my sister got me and i cried a little. there’s no one to ask for any help, or even any sympathy and sometimes that gets to me. i feel it. self-pity party. in my freak out i did mention ‘real subtle-like’ some of the reasons why i might be so tired to the kids. it is good for them to gain some knowledge on christmas day. i’m sure they won’t remember. but still.
  3. its legit cold this morning, and i put on my boots and got the trash can out in time. the cold was good for my spirit. i think it cleared out some stuff. certainly made me realize that pajamas are not really winter weather gear. the sharpness on my skin was a good reminder of what is, and what is not.
  4. the coffee is so strong. the mug is porcelain poured over something else, smooth. i have no idea if its porcelain, its just smooth, with an imprinted, ‘christmas red’ design and i love it, and spent minutes this morning wondering if it were green would it last longer seasonally… like, could i use it into spring without feeling ‘behind’ in cleaning up, somehow. (i do not clean up quickly, but i do need another clearing of house some time in january, so it does get moved away)
  5. my skin is still soft, and smells good. oh my. soft. like old-lady soft. bring on the pastel mints.
  6. i keep having to consciously pull my shoulders down and relax my arms. i’m carrying some physical stress and I’m not sure what thats about, or why i keep getting wound up. once an hour at least.
  7. i just-about sliced the tip of my finger off last week (with scissors, thank you very much) when i was unpackaging a sled. it still hurts. it probably was a stitch-able thing but whatever and its my thumb. everytime i bump it my stomach lurches. i’ve had three freaking babies, folks. what the hell. it hurts distractingly. Its healed up mostly but good lord.
  8. i watered all my plants today, it felt like feeding chickens, taking care of babies. i was born to be a mom and i didn’t know it didn’t have to do with kids until after i started having kids. how bout that? i’m just that loving. i love my friends, my plants, my animals, my strangers. its just THAT obnoxious. gah.
  9. i always put oranges in stockings. yeah, old school but man, the texture of that skin. can’t you feel it and smell it now?
  10. i’m so damn lucky. i know it. my kids are awesome and healthy and i got to see my mom and sister (windows open, everyone masked the whole time, even kids y’all) yesterday. i feel the luck and love.
  11. today i’m going to read, and feed them and maybe get them out to the beach for a beauty walk. but thats it, and except for reading, the rest is negotiable. 😉
  • i missed yesterday and thought about it a few times. i slept downstairs on the sofa by the tree and woke up before everyone. it was blissy but not necessarily good sleep. i saved my energy for the inevitable ‘will you play this new ooo with me?’ i did, i played, and then i said no, and then i ‘napped’ and then fed them. it was a win for the feeding, after all that. so i forgive myself the miss of not writing. life and all.
  • still loves you all plenty.
  • me.