I’m having a weird relationship with my books lately. I have many, many books. I had many books before my mom died, and then I got most of hers, and now I have even more. And they’re great books. I
I recently took a trip. To the beach. A dear friend asked me to cat-sit for a little over two weeks at her condo right. on. the. beach. Balcony overlooking the sand. Twenty or thirty yards from the water. I
“Just stay humble.” “Don’t get too excited.” “You’re not all that.” Have you ever heard these sorts of words? In my humble opinion, I think hearing them at the beginning of an endeavor cripples accomplishment and creativity. If you want
Note: That photo up there was taken post-tattoo, post-book, long after the moment below happened. In the following, I was just trying to do and finish the project, feeling like I sucked at everything, trying to do what I said I
JOURNAL 11.21.2012
Last night, I sat with my mom as she struggled through the worst night of pain thus far in her fight with cancer. Her abdomen was sore from throwing up, the morphine was not working well, and her thirst
Last night, as I stood at the stove at my own birthday party and created, stirred, and spiced the soup, I listened to all of you (my children included) talking, laughing, connecting. You thought I was fussing over a dish,
Dear Mom,
Happy Birthday, mamadear, on what would have been your 69th. I’m sitting here about to watch an Agatha Christie movie, whom you loved, eating beets then pecan shortbread, which you loved (as do I), end-of-week tired from
This is an excerpt from The Oat Project, from the rock concert chapter. It may or may not make the final version (coming this summer!!!). Enjoy…and now, back to it.
It’s like World Wide Wrestling. What is that fake-fighting
The kitchen is where my inner science geek and slapdashing artist get to dirty dance…pure alchemy.
Cooking has always given me energy, yes; but it also requires a focus, effort, and sense of play that I haven’t been able to
Some days, writing is like a laser beam: sharp, focused. Other days, it’s like a flood: deep, dense. This day, this morning, I woke with an emotional hangover. Yesterday–my second Mother’s Day without my mother–was heavy with unexpected grief,