Posts from the “Me” Category

Testing Body Image

Posted on July 21, 2014

We were sprawled out in the backyard. Sean was spraying the big girls down with a hose and Finley was devouring a sandwich in a lawn chair. The cat and dog were at our sides, both seemingly delighted that we were spending the day in a way that they could be with us. As the grass began to get soppy Sean passed the hose to Briar and Avery and gave them a three minute warning. “Three minutes and the hose is done!” “Okaaaaaaaay!” the girls screeched. Briar was in a purple and black suit, Ave a black rashguard with paint splatter accents and matching bottoms. They darted this way and that, their bodies shiny. Briar’s legs are long and slender, the stretch from knee…

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The Saying Goes…

Posted on July 14, 2014

Years ago in my carpentry days I worked with a guy named Clay. He was from North Carolina and had the kind of drawl that authors take paragraphs to bring to life until it becomes the cadence of your very thoughts. As we would work feverishly in the scene shop at Delftree building sets for the Williamstown Theatre Festival, we’d take smoke breaks and bitch breaks. One late night walking toward the loading dock Clay said, “This whole thing makes about as much goddamn sense as going through your asshole to get to your belly button.” That saying has stayed with me because I’ve built a life on doing things the hard way. Whether it’s insisting on doing something myself, adjusting my plan to…

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You…

Posted on June 26, 2014

There are so many things that can follow that one little word. You are so special. You did it. It can turn your day around.   Or it can not. You suck. You little bitch. You acted like a baby. Rebecca has done it again and made me think about how much I there really is in you. The impact of our words is great, but before them our thoughts carry even more power. I think about things in an argument, about what I’ll say next. There are things that I pull, because as Galit so beautifully said, there are soft places that we must keep sacred. I do it in my work as well, whether I am making a pitch or responding to a question about a…

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Stride. Broken.

Posted on June 13, 2014

  The day started like any other, the cat meowing in my face, the alarm sounding, and my body begging for more sleep. I popped out of bed as if denying the fatigue would make it go away. Lunches were easy enough to pack because Sean had gone to the store on the way home from work the night before. Nobody called out to me for specific clothes that they needed for school, there were no misplaced folders or missing shoes. We got out the door on time and the teacher cancelled the field trip that would have had us tromping around a pond in the rain. It was a relatively easy morning, and yet I am sitting in a Starbucks sobbing. Granted I’ve…

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Working Guilt, Step-parents, & Designer Jeans

Posted on June 5, 2014

I’ve been in Lake Placid for a conference. It’s strange, usually I am pretty on top of times when I need to go away, mostly because it really presses my fret button. Not this time, this time it sort of snuck up on me. I moved slowly, stopping just short of saying that I didn’t want to go. I tried to keep the goodbyes light with the girls, guessing that I wouldn’t I have it in me to keep them cheery. I hit the road late and have spent every minute since trying to get my head in the game. Last night while I was at dinner with clients and friends Sean texted me.     I gasped, everyone at the table turned, “What?…

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