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 would do, all amidst the core of being a mother.
Fundamental, by Jene’ Jackson on her birthday, today, as she drove home down Colorado Avenue after writing all day. Perhaps, pungent as the cut onion’s night after night spray in kitchen curtains pervasive as the toddler’s goo griming the minvan seats tenacious as the smoker’s film of brown on bedroom walls,
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 work you would have been so happy to know I was
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 impulse? Do we all have it in one form or another?
I do not watch television. I do not own a tv. If I watch tv, it shall never be in the daytime. If it is in the daytime, it is only because I’m sick. These are my rules. The medium stresses me out. I hold my breath when in suspense.
T-Mobile thinks I’m in Mexico. Last night, as I arrived at the unexpected gift of two nights in a condo on the beach, my phone pinged. I wondered who might be texting so late and looked to find T-Mobile’s cheerful message: “Welcome to Mexico! Texts are $.50 and calls are
My childhood Christmas lists were a work of art. Crafted from hours with my nose in the Sears catalog, the key at the top was essential. Need Very Badly = NVB. Need = N. Want = W. Want Very Much = WVM. Each item (often topping 100) was coded, with its
I keep trying to make meaning with words on this day, but they aren’t coming out properly yet. One year ago today, my family and I buried my mom in Tennessee, on the same hill as her father and family. It was a year ago date-wise, but day-of-the-week-wise, which is
Today feels like butter. Well, like making butter…deep, emotional, existential conversations bubbling up and coalescing from what seemed like milk-plain, catch-up chats. I’ve been getting raw milk from the amazing folks at Larga Vista Ranch for a while now, and though it is for my children, usually I end up
Right now, this minute, I’m sitting at my home-away-from-home coffee shop, in a tank top I got from a friend. This beautiful, blue, perfect-for-Blue-Moon-Day top has…well (am I really going to admit this in public?), has what we gals call a “shelf bra.” Meaning, I am in public, PUBLIC, without