A list. B list. C list. Love and Fear it.

IF its not cup size, I just don’t care, guys.

A list, for me. Because I need to get the swing back in my hips.

What do I love? What am I scared of? What do I love…

  1. I love the ellipses… the dangle, the possibility of surprise, and the more, more, more…
  2. I’m scared that I’m not doing enough for my kids, that my predilection to let them do stuff on their own is just laziness and that they’ll compare me so unfavorably to their dad who is so flawed, but ‘fun’.
  3. I love the ups and downs and whoopsadaisys. I wish there were more ups right now. But I’m in it for the longhaul, I am. Whoopsadaisy.
  4. I’m scared of a lot of things. I have these ‘great ideas’ but kind of want to give them to someone else to do. I have a hard time overcoming myself. Anyone want to come to a writing workshop at my house? and pay for it? Yeah, me too.
  5. I love fish and chips. with vinegar, and with ketchup. and tartar sauce. its been ages. AGES.
  6. I’m afraid I will never read all the books I have staring at me. The library is starting to smoke its anger at me. I just can’t stop. Anyone want to do a giant bookswap in July? My yard. Tables and tables. Bring yours.
  7. I love my body, I really do. Its pretty damn amazing. Its larger right now than it is meant to handle, and I’m adjusting to that very slowly. (Do not give me advice or pointers on this because I will seriously resent you and probably never forget it, either.)
  8. I’m afraid that I’ll never stop comparing myself to other people and intellectually I realize it is fruitless and entirely imaginary, but goddamn, I haven’t found the trick to stopping yet.
  9. I love my body, did I say that yet? Damn, she is a hot one.
  10. I’m afraid I won’t get used to being alone. I’m working on it.

I’m working on all of it. Taking it apart. Getting it together. All with jazz hands. (No.)

love love,


fried meat beside sliced lemon and white mustard
Fish and Chips. Photo by Valeria Boltneva on

Don’t Give Up

(These are not subsistence, safety or emergency directions. These are directions of immense privilege, once the other ones are addressed.)

Instructions on not giving up:

(idea from an Ada Limon poem, found here, and in yesterday’s post, here.)

  1. Call a friend or put the phone down. Like, an actual phone call, not a text. Voices are so good, and so are faces. You can even look at them while you talk if you want. Totally Jetsons.
  2. The second part of number one is important for me. If I can shove it off, the phone, I’m better for it. Really. All the damn scrolling! I can see it for the damage its doing. I can SEE it. goddamnit.
  3. Read a book. Don’t just say you are going to, do it. Don’t do it with the phone in your lap. Don’t feel guilty the whole time you are doing it. There is enough time. Laundry will always be there. So will the fucking game of uno and/or the epilogue you’re supposed to write.
  4. Fucking phone.
  5. Go outside. Look at things that don’t care who you are or what you are worth to worthless people. Just go stand next to a tree. It’ll love you or drop a stick on your head. Clear. (Don’t chop it down, or accept its giving its life to you. No, Asshole. Don’t ask it to, Creep. Just stand there.)
  6. Make a list. Listen when your friends tell you not to give up. Don’t read into it, just listen. Make another list.
  7. Lose yourself in the shape of a leaf. I mean, go for it. Pick an interesting one or just the nearest one. Imagine standing on that leaf. Spend some time there. I mean, try.
  8. Go water something. Be it a kid, or a pet, or a plant. Go feed something a truly nourishing drink of sustenance. Tell yourself how you are keeping life.
  9. Don’t clean anything, for godssakes, unless it makes you feel good. If you want to break a plate instead of washing it, go for it. Just wear safety goggles or real shoes maybe.
  10. I do like to sweep something though. I’m a fan of the sweep. Amazing how many things get caught up in that.
  11. In your moment of quiet, ask for help, guidance. If you don’t believe in a bigger thing, than make the ask to your own higher self, the pieces of you that want to be the best thing. Make it personal. Make it. Your act of creation, in asking, is a waterfall of possible. Rumble.

Do it all again the next day. Give yourself time in the morning, even if it means lying in bed thinking. Or staring at the coffee. Just be. Recognize how fucking awesome that is.

(if you can’t. call me. i’ll take the call, because the phone is still in my fucking lap. And I’ll take the call.)

Don’t Give Up.




Essential work

What is absolutely essential in your life, as it is right now? I am working beyond the life-sustaining needs of food and shelter. IF you need those, this stuff below has to wait.

What is keeping you going?

Believe it or not, coffee only earns you a half point.

here’s mine, coffee included.

  1. coffee. but the caveat is that it must be good. today’s brew was weak and it was my own damn fault. but i will make a second pot momentarily, because I have a new mug (thank you stimulus check) that I will be using. It came from starbucks, which is hokey, but i love love love it, which brings me to my next essential.
  2. love. (no brainer, right?) I think its necessary to have something to pour your love out on. Be it children, grandchildren, cat babies, dog babies, artwork, partners, houseplants, friends, parents, nieces, nephews. Maybe its your work, maybe its the sky-gazing you do at lunch break every day. You must love something. I must love something. I must open myself and pour out, which brings me to my next essential.
  3. love. (no brainer, right?) I must be loved. i know, i know, you argue, but that is not something that can be MADE to be so. And i argue with you, right back. because it is a matter of being open to receiving love. its out there, the plants love and respond to your care, so do the pets. its not just hooey, hong kong fuuey. Its necessary to remove the expectation of what that love is going to look like. I got no man love right now, right? so I have to expand myself to realize how loved I am by my house, my children, my family, my in-laws, the sunlight, the wind. It can be a stretch some days, but its there, you have to reach for it on the better days. (and please god, believe me, i know how hard it can be to remember that you are loved, i do, i really really do. but it is essential, nonetheless.)
  4. warmth. i suppose in general i mean ‘comfort’, but for me in particular it is warmth. but too much? too much is actually bad. the way in which you appreciate comfort is by understanding discomfort. for instance, i need to be cold in order to truly worship the beautiful socks that i will get next winter. I need to recognize the sigh of relief as i put on a hat in the house, because hello heads must be covered! 84%! And I know that comfort in general is a necessity, but in the same way as warmth, too much is too much. Complacency is not the goal. I NEED to be uncomfortable sometimes. And this applies to many many things. one of my big fears lately has been changing the way that i write, my expectations for it. I’m afraid that if I change anything, like plan stuff out, for example, that I will lose everything that I love about it. I NEED to get uncomfortable. I really do. But I am scared. So. I work and wait on something to shift. In the meantime, I put on another sweater. 🙂

I’m stopping with four. Its one of my favorite numbers. What you got?

Tell me. Message me. Share. What is essential to you?

love love,


my mug!! totally essential. Peonies, and the other side has a bull. That handle! Perfect.

… and taxes, motherfucker.

My mother in-law, former mother in-law, friend for 30 years, is going into hospice this month some time, if not this week. I have tried to start writing about her, and have over the years, certainly, but it is currently too raw, and she’s not dead yet, and so i want to spend my time trying to get her on the phone. Real always being preferable to memory. always. i say. my heart is wounded and throbs.

don’t you say the real is more than the memory? don’t you? the touch? the skin? the shared space? laughing? hugging?

I was there last wednesday, dropping off a lasagna and I sat and had a grilled cheese sandwich that my 88 year old father-in-law made for me when he heard I was coming over. Her memory is shot so he wasn’t at all sure I was actually coming, or what day I might be coming. We talked about my family, her cousins, death. I actually brought it up because 1. i had been thinking about my own, and 2. I think we should all talk to our elders about it. Expecting it is a whole different experience, I think, and I want to know what it is like.

I said that, for myself, I didn’t fear it, as long as I could remove my thoughts of the kids from the equation. Worrying about them ruined it all. She agreed, saying something along the lines of ‘what the hell else can you do? You die? you die!’.

I am a thousand times certain that I have loved her and been loved by her for 30 years. How lucky am I ?


When all is lost, make a love list.

This is what I love.

  1. metaphors.
  2. the wind. how tricky it is. from breeze to gale. invisible, except for what it does. feel it in your bones. the rile.
  3. the word bones. how they are a building block and a nakedness all at once.
  4. makers, people who craft things from nothing. how does this happen? what sort of madness brings objects forth from paints, letters, strings? mad genius.
  5. the changeable nature of people. as much as i love color and wrap myself and my house in it, last week i purchased a bedding set that is navy blue. all navy blue. i am awash in the navy. it is an adjustment and i feel shock when i see the blank space in my room where color used to live. and i’m going for it. don’t know what made me do it, but i’m going to ride the navy, baby. (apologies to the armed services and… my gift for laughing innuendo is freaking unstoppable.)
  6. the way hot tea warms your chest like nothing else. from the inside out.
  7. hoodies. i think its genius that there is a hat and a neck covering sewn into a sweatshirt. really now. come on.
  8. i love writing. i do. when there are the things i cannot share here, i have a place to go dump it, and i’m so glad, and sometimes i’m even impressed by what i find there. in the dump, the things that matter rise to the top… and its not always what you expect.

That’s all. A big fat eight. I’m smiling though, so its a big win.

love you.