Yesterday I got tripped up in organizing something upstairs and when I checked the time we’d missed the bus. Sean wasn’t home and Briar had caught her bus an hour earlier. “Girls, let’s go. I am driving you to school,” I called downstairs. “Ok, which garage door do we open?” Ave called up to me. “The rectangle button.” “Got it, we’ll be in the car.” I smiled, finished what I was doing and headed downstairs. I grabbed the lunch I’d packed, my computer bag, and a gatorade. When I got outside I realized the sky looked a bit threatening, but there wasn’t time to go back for my coat. I shrugged, even though my shirt was sleeveless, I wasn’t cold. “Ok, you guys want…
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I have a routine in the mornings, after a cuddle with our early-rising cat, I pad downstairs, make coffee and check my email, Twitter, and Facebook. The volume of junk email I receive makes the email check a nice warm-up, easily done with heavy lids and a not entirely alert mind. Twitter is my favorite, my circle of friends there are wildly passionate and quirky. They educate, challenge, and fascinate me. Whether it’s chatter about a tv show or advocating for gun reform, I discover new viewpoints and humbling daring. For the most part I am safe in what I tweet about; avoiding perilous ledges of conflict because I have a business and I know that sometimes my very liberal Pacific Northwest roots put…
Tagged: #YesAllWomen, daughters, media, rape culture
I want so much to write something here, craft an assemblage of words that will move you. I long for the release and the subsequent fiery inspiration that come from the crackle of connection here. Some days I float around the internet, smiling at the familiar lyricism of certain friends, gasping with delight at new-to-me voices, and it lifts me, powering my fingers with breathless passion. Not lately though, because I am tired. Run-down from managing the end-of-year details that all seem so counter intuitive and the gathering of cash in these not-ATM-friendly increments for the rat-a-tat barrage of field trips seems unmanageable. The dog continues his rampage of acting out, the cat is, well she’s a cat and that really says it all,…
Categories: Me
We are in the throes of a kitchen renovation. Tomorrow the kitchen sink will be dismantled, there will be no sink until at least Saturday, likely later. I am flirting with pouting about it. I thought that I’d culled all there was to cull when I emptied the cabinets and yet I can tell I have things that are tethered to me in some sort of subconscious, self-defeating sentimentality. Each trip to the makeshift dish station sees me making halting jerky moves as I consider and then reconsider adding something to the donate pile. It was a relief to drive away from the house and its suffocating prison of to-dos.
Here’s a peek at what we did for a sweet sliver of the weekend and here is a link to Suzi Banks Baum’s blog Laundry Line Divine. She invited me to write a post about #WhatMothersMake
Categories: Random
I had a preoccupation as a little girl that people around me would die. Actually, it wasn’t about people around me, it was my mom; I actively worried that I would lose her. There are moments when the pangs of fear that I would feel come back to me, not as fear of losing her now, but that very raw feeling of being 8 and afraid that she’d be swallowed up by something and be out of reach to me. I think it was in that time, in those moments in our house on the hill, the twists of brown and gold rug beneath my feet and the weight of fearing my mom’s death all around me, that I developed my tendency to say…
Tagged: holidays, life, Mother's Day