My mother. What do I say about my mother? What can I say about her? “She was beautiful.” Of course she was. She was my mother after all. What child who does not love their mother think their mother is anything but? Even when crows feet begin their slow, inevitable climb at the corners… Read More »Just give me one moment more.
Today I had a mammogram. A lot different from my first mammogram at 13 in Canada, where I had lumpy boobs and the Doctor just wanted to make sure it was natural breast development and nothing else. I had to go to a hospital then–down white hallways and across pale… Read More »If the walls where I got my Mammogram could talk.
I love the holidays. Specifically, I love that as I am on my own I can celebrate the holidays–within budget–how I see fit. I can’t understand how celebrating in your own way, where it harms none, becomes a point of grumbling to some. Yesterday I begged Shawn to take me… Read More »Finding some way to smile about it.
Despite what people tell me, I don’t feel like a writer. There are stories in me that muck about swirling and whirling and flicking their tails at me from the surface of my mind-water. But they’re awfully fickle. Hard to grab onto. Most often when I think I have a… Read More »Do you know what grows Under the Stairs?
Last year on my live journal, I wrote a post about my growing obsession with tea cups and mugs. I’m one of those women that will turn her head nearly all the way around in the glass or kitchen ware aisles at stores–like men spotting a set of endless, toned,… Read More »I will come to your house and fondle your mugs.
My first home happens to be a one bedroom apartment. For Shawn and I, we who have children that are feathered and furred instead of human–this fits us perfectly. For the longest time, with our bad financial decisions when we first got together + the way the economy was going,… Read More »Letting go of perfect.
When I was a little girl, bright eyed and possibly more hyper-active as well as touch more naive than I am now, Christmas Eve and Christmas day was always spent at my grandmothers. My grandmother lived in a farmhouse that was at least more than a century old. Two stories… Read More »Making new Christmas Magic from the Old.
The cat went here and there And the moon spun round like a top, And the nearest kin of the moon, The creeping cat, looked up. Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon, For, wander and wail as he would, The pure cold light in the sky Troubled his animal blood.… Read More »Death thought about it. “CATS”, he said eventually, “CATS ARE NICE.”