A February Doozy.

My nephew is here. I saw him last this summer, when we met at a rental house for a couple of days. My brother’s son. The cutest bean ever.

All I can hear right now is screaming from the other end of the house, and running feet. The house is old enough that if you run on the right spot, the whole thing shakes. We’ve been shook now several times.

When they all disappeared upstairs, I got some work done. I’ve shifted my ‘work space’ to move out of the kitchen, out of ‘being central”. I thought I would feel in danger, like military people when they sit with their backs to the door. That somehow I was neglecting, being willfully negligent of all the kid-action of the house.

Turns out, the bastards follow me.

So there’s that.

But. also. I was sitting here doing work and I realized I was expecting someone else. I was expecting some other adult to ‘come home’. Isn’t that insane? I have been on my own now for five years, except for that lovely interlude with LM. Who am I waiting for?

Why does the brain work like it does? How do you grow to trust it when its obviously overworked and delusional? A habit of thought from five years ago or even one year ago?

It was a doozy. A doozy to realize. I’m not sad or anything but if I’m suspicious of my own brain, then what?


a doozy.

love love,


Workspace, underway.

Re-do, January, Re-do

Its okay to start over, just clean-slate it. throw the baby out with the wash, go ahead.

(cynthia lee prompt inspired this one.)

So. If today is the first day… of the year, of the freshness, of the newest thing….

the way i begin is to look back. look at what i’ve done.

  1. i’ve survived a very questionable marriage, which was not a partnership.
  2. i’ve learned what a partner can be. happily, amazingly.
  3. i’ve started a career as a writer and proofreader and while i make zero real dollars, it is pretty freaking amazing that i’ve been working at this, and being paid.
  4. i’ve been raising my kids, with goodness and fair amounts of consistency. (only fair amounts, lets acknowledge my flawed humanity, okay?)
  5. I had to take my kid to his dad’s office yesterday. there is so damn much of me still in there, not in a sentimental way, but i recognize how much time and involvement and memory i still have, about objects, things i made, photos, things i had conversations about. he didn’t cleanse it out because he doesn’t even know, or remember or care. maybe he does, it doesn’t matter. it is a solitary experience, which emphasizes to me, the shits i don’t give anymore, deeply. almost aggressively at this point, but the aggression pleases me, it doesn’t hurt. all the stages i guess.
  6. I’ve been writing pretty solidly now for two and a half months and I’m excited for myself, proud and excited.

So, if i begin with deeply acknowledging those things, where do i step off? in which direction? where the hell do i want to go? the world is wide, deep and dark. mysterious and lit from within.

where to go? if today is day one…

  • had to test my kid for covid yesterday. waiting on results. he has no symptoms except a slight cough, but was exposed. we wait. day one indeed. (or maybe, day 6, depending on how you’re counting, for him)
  • i can see things changing in me, in what I want to do, and have some anxiousness about what that will look like, how i will take those steps, whether or not it will head me towards the financial standalone ability that i need. i’m handling it, so far, but noting it.
  • what are my baby steps? Today i will read the post-it notes i have around my work chair:
    ‘write! write! write!’ , ‘quick or slow, deep breath! Clarify!’ ‘Water you and the plants!’ ‘Get up! Go love those chickens!’ Read and do.
  • day one? I’m going to go get some clean clothes on, make a list of the phone calls i need to make this week. And then, goddamnit, I’m calling this week, however weirdly phonecalls are accomplished. ( i keep one finger in my ear to help this loaner aid function better, and man, its pretty damn funny-looking.)

Thats it guys, i don’t really feel the magic in this one, but maybe its a first day, with all its hesitancy, and thats just fine. first day jitters and all. 🙂

love love,



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,



December noticing 2

the next nine. (thanks again to cynthia lee. find her on patreon and give her $3)

SMELL. a mix of what is here, and what i like, and what i remember.

  1. I made popcorn this morning to satisfy the ‘special snack’ for the ‘christmas snack bag’ broohaha for the youngest. I made the popcorn with a large amount of frustration and resentment. I think I am too tired, and I don’t entirely get it. although the dog woke me up at three to go outside. its just 9:30 in the morning and i’m tired. i’ve got to go to the grocery store soon and i’m tired, just so tired. the kitchen still smells of popcorn.
  2. i wrote today about my dad’s holiday pants. a great wool plaid that i remember so vividly, from the church fairs and the dinner parties of my early childhood. early childhood. before i was ten. there is a legend of the day i grabbed the car salesman’s legs, and clung, because he was wearing those pants and i thought it was my dad. a legend. a story forged, melted and solidified. i can still smell those pants. i miss my dad.
  3. i brushed my daughter’s hair before the popcorn mood fizzle. i brush it almost every day. she’s got strawberry red though she believes its blond, always uses yellow crayons to make her hair. i can’t really understand the willfull misstake, but i am here to tell you how good it smells, her hair. perpetually clean, fresh, makes me think of princesses and lacy doilies.
  4. the crisp crunch of snow. its a smell. it really is. its a blue smell. i can’t say anything more about it.
  5. libraries. i don’t know how it is that they all smell the same, but they do. paper, pragmatism, age.
  6. the radiator next to me smells of warmth. literal heat in waves to my nose. substantial. warm metal. huh. so much in there.
  7. the chicken coop smells like a chicken coop should. but its a reminder in all this warmth, there is a hell of a lot of shit.
  8. the lotion i’ve started putting on my face at night. i’m a little incredulous that i’ve developed, or have started to develop, a routine of pampering. i rub this yummy smell into my face and i just feel a tiny bit of delight about it. and my daughter told me i smelled good yesterday. because of my face. tiny delights.
  9. bacon. because really, this had to be bookended by the two best scents in the world, popcorn and bacon. bacon is the only thing that makes me pity vegans and vegetarians. otherwise, they’ve got the right of it. but still. bacon. sigh.

yeah, weight watchers is going well. (hysterical laughing/sobbing)

love love love,


look at her hair. oh my goodness. the wave is a curl for most of the year. sigh. beauty.



November 1 2020 so begins my own writing. For sanctuary, and commitment. And i’m sharing it here because i don’t feel totally complete without the share, and i’m not going to look into that too deeply. sue me.

Today’s writing prompt?



  1. Time is funny. Time spent dancing in the kitchen touches all the minutes of the day, remembrance of my body and my joy. Wanting to tell someone of it, realizing I’m okay without that. And still wanting anyhow. Maybe this serves.
  2. Letting go of the wifely, finally, after five years. The protection I still do, because he is the father of my children, the things I haven’t told. Now I can let someone else hold the secrets, the narcissism and the myopia. And what will I do with all that space? Why do I think him incomplete on his own? That is a question. Do I think it of all men? Another one. Dang.
  3. Days are passing, large chunks of time uninspected. The chickens are fine, the decorations from last Christmas are doing well, more timely now. Funny how that works, right? Round and around again.
  4. Time time time. Bangles. My brain doing the roundabout too. Resisting the writing on the very first day. I have to force myself through this. I want it bad, y’all.
  5. The last therapist I had used internal family systems which I loved. Recognizing your emotional parts as protectors of your sacredness. Like, my self-criticism is really just trying to protect myself from bravado, or risky behaviors. Etc. and so you approach all the pieces of you with great love and appreciation, for all the good intentions that they have. Much like that movie, whatsitcalled. Right? She retired, my therapist, and I’m looking for another, and boy, anytime you bump into new expenses or insurance problems, it’s a quick and dirty reminder of how much the American system sucks balls. In a bad way.
  6. Can I make it through this writing without checking the phone? Nope. Recognizing compulsion doesn’t seem to make any real difference to me these days. I do know it as addiction and yes, it bothers me and no, I can’t seem to make headway. I say it has to do with connection to a world outside of my house, children, dog and chickens, but I think I could do with less of that. Particularly as I live in this country, and in this town, which is heavy with the trump. I do not think I will leave the house again if he wins, which I think he might. Based on the signage in my Massachusetts town, not any flipping polls. i learned my lesson last time.
  7. I want a slow life, I want less seek. Its not happened for me yet. I’m not sure I have the patience for it, the self-direction. If ‘someone else’ were to come in and take all my tech and leave me with just the chickens and the dogs, and kids, I’d be fine…. But I can’t do it myself. Willfully get off the grid? I don’t know how that makes me feel about myself.
  8. My last boyfriend was amazing. And still is. He’s repeating an act of love he did for me, last year. A slew of cards are making their way to me in this month of November, when time takes a bat to my head on the regular. I don’t know how to say how much it means to me, and how unworthy I feel to receive such selflessness. Truly empties me out. I feel terrible. And greedy. And so damn needy.
  9. Memory and remembrance are heavy in this month, for so many people. The fall of fall. The traditions, the food, yard cleanups, the way the light changes and flows and glows and everything is in freefall.
  10. I’m sticking to ten. Maybe next time I should set a timer. I’m not sure there will be much pith here. Exercise type writing. Is there meat to suck on ? bones to suck the marrow from? I’m not sure, really. But I’ve got to move on. I forgot to change the clocks and now I’m all jacked up and I could be sleeping. How timely.
  11. She cracks up.