i do what i can to take care of myself lately. i’m only talking to people i like and i am not looking at a dating site. (now that i’ve typed it, i’ll probably look tonight, goddamnit)

i’m trying to go to yoga twice a week, i’m taking my vitamins.

i’m making sure to water the plants and i’m even using fertilizer this year, which i’ve never been willing to do because i’m all ‘nature should be untouched’ and all that shit.

we’re still not going to the beach very much. two redheads you know. they don’t really want to, and i would have to start drinking if i spent a full day in the sun now. and that sounds gross to me.

i send a letter occasionally.

i’ve figured out a way to get air conditioning on the entire bedroom set. it involves several pushpins and a sheet hanging from the ceiling. we will see. the truth is, i think i sleep better without it. it seems to be giving me headaches. what a bitch.

i’m taking my kid to camp for three weeks this weekend. i will be more fragile than i think. or, as fragile as i think. there will be a lot of driving and my older teenager has completely opted out to stay with friends for two nights, and someone is coming to watch the dogs and release the chickens!! (you have to yell that, right there, as in RELEASE THE KRAKEN!!)

there are a few moving parts. i’m taking my youngest to visit with two of her great aunts and their husbands, greatuncles too, and we’re going to a fabulous garden on the coast. maine has a whole damn lot of connection and visitation spots, as its where both my parents were born and raised. I wonder if i should visit some grave sites… it might freak my daughter out, and i don’t think the dead will notice. hm.

i had a job this week and it felt pretty damn good to have my wednesday all filled up. I purposefully cleared these past three weeks to spend time with kids before camp. and then it was cloudy and humid and rainy in a million ways. and too much screentime for us all. so it was less than ideal and i’m thrilled that my kid goes to camp for three weeks screen free.

i’ll have more work next week and I’m hoping structure will help me give us more activity. we’ll see.

first i’ve got to leave a kid in a place that makes him supremely happy and makes me feel like i have a hole in my heart.

i’ll be fine. i will.

remind me he needs a flashlight. okay?

allright. glad i’m writing? HA! a bunch of nibbles for you. I’m thinking a lot. I’m looking forward to when it starts spilling out onto a keyboard. its been a good time, believe it or not.

love you,


person holding flashlight during nighttime

Dark Night of the Should

It was a writing prompt, in which I don’t allow myself to edit. Edit? you say? You edit? Aha. Yes, yes I do. I may not care (here) about capitalizations of the I, and so on, but I do spell things correctly, and I do try to use grammar to capture the way it would sound if I were speaking. So there.

But in this prompt, I am ‘rulebound’ to not fix my errors at all, in an attempt to kill the inner editor which censors. And so I typed today’s title, as a mistake. I clearly intended it to be a reference to the Dark Night of the Soul that the mystics undergo when they lose their faith and are consumed with doubt about their relationship with the divine. Perhaps they are even cut off, as they believe, if such a thing is possible. ( I say it is not, but I am not in charge of their belief system, believe it or not.)


My last list, of things to give up, was to help me with releasing some ridiculous ‘shoulds’. I ‘should’ be married, I ‘should’ be an office working professional, I ‘should’ look put together at some point, without the crew of people who got me ready for a wedding, my wedding. I should be cartwheeling. I should be buying lottery tickets. (those last two? clearly still on the fence.)

You’ve read a million things about why shoulds are bad, I know you have. I’m just adding another. A refusal on my part to accept the life I actually have, and all the power I have within it. What I’m doing right now? Is FUCKING AMAZING, and I don’t need any shoulds to water it down. I’m a writer, I’m raising three kids, I’m growing a garden and raising chickens and I’ve managed to do it all while recovering from a kind of traumatic marriage. DAYAM.

when I should myself, I’m denying the actual day to day life that I have. Which is real, and sometimes cruddy, and sometimes I’m an asshole, but its real, and its all mine, and i’m the boss of my house.

And sometimes I get really lost, and I get swamped by futility and lonely and fear of the future and the constant dishes. (would someone please just move in and take care of them? Swear to god, no rent if you just do the damn dishes. Wait. Fuck. I have kids! Why don’t they do the damn dishes?! Fuck.)

But that swamp? THAT IS THE DARK NIGHT OF THE SHOULD. right there. when i’m disappointing myself so badly, because I think I ‘should’ be something else. Well, I’m not, goddamnit.


northern lights over mountain and forest
Photo by Mohan Reddy Atalu on

so bite me, shoulds. BITE ME.



Not going to do it. Give Up.

It has occurred to me lately that I need to make a new list. (right? shocking.) But this list is in fact, something new, to me.

I need to make a list of things that I’m not going to do. And feel contentment seep in, with the release of the niggling feeling that I should be doing these things.

For instance

  • I am not going to minimalize. Really, I’m not going to have an empty countertop. I like the look of it, but I like to ‘use’ space, see my things, and have everything close at hand. My sink will not, in general, be empty, or shiny.
*in making the list, i’ve got to be careful not to close doors i want to keep open. I mean, I could say i’m not going to win the lottery, but hey, if i start buying tickets, i’ve got the same odds as anyone. So it does not go on the list.

2. I am not going to have more babies. (yeah, boy! that means something relatively new and fantastic in sex. so fantastic.) I can buy baby clothes without having my breasts leak. And, I can release the need to look like i’m 27, and I can welcome the belly that gave me the babies. (ok, well to be totally transparent, i’ve got too much welcoming going on, and need to take alittle better care of myself, food wise)

3. I’m never going to be a party girl. I’m never going to be in a large group of people who are all drunk, because I will always have the freedom to leave, and leave i will. I will never be a party girl. I will always leave early. I probably don’t want to come to your cookout, because I’m scared a little. (this one tears at me, still, sadly, but it is completely and utterly true. never.) I’m not going to be the jolly girl that everyone loves. few will get to know me, because I don’t talk about myself. (except here.)

4. I might not be married to someone for fifty years. I’m not sure this one really matters, but it is a growing acceptance. I’m not giving up on finding the someone, but marriage and longevity are less and less likely. I can be okay with that. There is much in my life. GOD, i am pretty damn sure I don’t want to get married again. Can you imagine that?

5. I am not going to homestead. I’m not going to survive on food that I have grown myself. I love that I canned tomatoes last year, but guess what? I never used them. I refuse to be making more waste for the world. I refuse. And God Knows how much I don’t want to preserve kale, or eat a thousand pounds of zucchini. If the zombie apocolypse comes, I have enough refried beans and chicken broth to last me a long long time. I will also eat my dog. But don’t tell him.

  • 6. I’m not going to be the ‘it girl’ for everyone. Some people will love my breasts but give a toss for me. Some people will think I’m aloof. (idiots) or maybe judgemental. (clearly not.) HA. But some people are just not going to get me and some people are not going to care one way or another.
  • 7. I’m not going to make flawless use of technology. I just don’t care enough. So its going to look like this, and my ocd friends, I’m sorry.
  • 8. I’m not going to stop making mistakes. I’ll never be perfect, flawless, or even ‘all-put-together’. So there. I give up.
*Another thing that is funny is that i find resistance in the oddest places. I am not going to do cartwheels? I don’t want to type that one, because maybe…. how odd, and somewhat ludicrous, but really. Also, Katherine Hepburn pants… why can’t I? notice and move on.

What can you give up on? This is my new ‘ultimate coaching’ stratagem… GIVE UP. GIVE UP.

🙂 love love,



woman wearing brown leather chunky heeled shoes
Frankly, I could swing these, in petite. Photo by Dellon Thomas on


Bullets clattering.

  1. My son turns 16 today, is already 16, in fact. What a joy that kid is. I admire the hell out of him and can’t wait to see what his life will hold. ( i mean, i can wait, i can wait, but it will be a joy, it will.)
  2. I’m supposed to be writing a shit ton today. I’m not. Its not quite ten and i’ve been eating a lot. Birthday boy isn’t here, I had my celebration for him last night. I feel unhinged. Do fathers feel this or is it the damn chromosome thing of female?
  3. I mowed the lawn this morning to try and beat the heat and discovered that barefoot is actually not safe and also, that random swerves and curvy paths are not as satisfying when you only mow for a half hour. i have a maze-like path i have to follow in order to get to the garden without walking in tall grass. This morning’s interpretive mowing was shortsighted.
  4. I just had the most fun ordering the summer reading books for the boys. Honestly, I’m going to read them all, including some re-reading. Slaughterhouse 5? BABY! And, i don’t think i’ve ever read Black Boy, by Wright, so I should. And I will. Best summer morning ever. (see #2)
  5. I’m also writing here, (#2 again) and I feel good about it, shimmering in my sweat as I am, I feel good about it. Having books coming in the mail is a pretty damn enticing thing. I have to finish the writing in order to make money to buy more books. Someone help me (besides the two people i have already enlisted to hold me accountable. Oh god.)
  6. I downloaded an app which will block my from social media when I ask it to. So helpful and I’m incredibly aware of my own self-disdain. “For chrissakes kate, just press ‘off’!” well, thank you very much, inner critic bitch.
  7. I don’t have any more bullets. I’m out. Hiding behind the suv in the shootout, no ammo. Either come and rescue or let it be quick. Maybe the work won’t see me if I crawl under the suv?
grassy meadow with flowers in nature
Not my lawn, but a happy one! Photo by Jill Burrow on


love love,



8000 words

Summer has blown my brain up. It was faster than I expected, this falling to pieces bit. I feel pretty flustered by the demands and the comparisons between the funhouse and the momhouse. I suppose I should just give in and do what they want, or suddenly be the person who makes plans. (not my forte)

I’m a go-along girl, always have been.

I used to judge myself for it. But I don’t anymore. And, when i need to, i can kind of make a plan. kind of. Trying to entertain myself when the kids are gone is pretty damn tough. No one to go-along with? Its been a pretty tough learning curve, and I am really not close to done.

Thankfully my eldest teen makes his own plans. So there is that. One taken care of. The other two ? They are learning.

god. I hate summer. (i mean, no i don’t.) It challenges me all day, every day, and I think I use fall and winter to rest, and recuperate.

But yesterday, my friends, with the fires lit under my ass by some friends, and the kids away with funparent, I wrote 8000 words.

8000 words. It feels like the beginning of a tidal wave, somehow. It is definitely a personal record, and was definitely necessary if I’m to have any hope of finishing my current job on time.

8000. What a fantastic number.

Don’t you want to dance around in it? Shimmy in your silver dress?

I do. I really do.

(too bad I need another few days of that kind of victory to be all done. I asked for the month of july off, with no work from this particular client. Went over like a bag of bricks. So, I have to get this done and well, and soon. And shockingly, the days are full of things, and lulls and more things, and I find it hard to sit and type, and dream and write. Shocking. BUT! I am hopeful now, because I am well underway. So hopeful. )

Its amazing to me how hung over I feel this morning. I sat down to get another few pages in, and my brain was disconnected from the process. I’m literally in another, liminal, space, half in my own katebowie mind, and half in a world of bartenders and fae spirits. Yes, that’s what this one was/is about.

So dang, my friends. 8000 words.

and tomorrow is my birthday. Shamalamadingdong.

how i keep track. It helps me to see, and begin to pick out patterns. Boy, my mornings can be busy. WTF, indeed. 🙂 Kind of like the notes I made when I was keeping track of contractions. Yeah.

love love,