poetry
So they aren't really lost, nor were they written too long ago in the grand scheme of things, but I would say 16 years is long enough to pull them out of their paper tombs. I'm in the process of typing up and storing away many
food
I got a little obsessed a while ago with the making and consuming of refrigerator pickles. I like pickles. They're tasty. I hope we're not arguing this fact. My fridge pickles? Well they were okay. I'm looking forward to making another batch soon. I
babble
I woke up in the morning when the sun was sunny and popped out of bed like some chipper little bunny rabbit or something eager to start my day. My day chocked full of a ton of menial little tasks! Closet cleaning, drawer sorting, book boxing, dish washing tasks! And
kaos
After several false starts we've got a snow day. A fucking snow day. For those of you that live somewhere that actually gets snow let me explain a Portland snow day to you. You only know it's a snow day because the school district calls to
Uncategorized
Try as I might I've never managed to finish a love poem Started Stopped Scrapped midway Turned into a murder ballad Words about lust Or loss But started and finished With And in Love? Never. There shouldn't be The end
babble
I sat with needle and thread. And tweezers and scissors. And an ice cold drink, just in case. But I sat with needle and thread and mended things that needed mending. A button here, a ripped seam there. And the zipper of my favorite bag. The end stop had come
poetry
I never know if it's just me. Can't quite work out if it's just my mind that plays this way. But I pick out words. Phrases. Thoughts. And I retain them for years. Sometimes they're my own words, sometimes they're
childhood
Standing before a clump of bushes I pulled my shirt out and let the red berries I was gathering collect in the little well that was made. I took my time. Pinching the berries off the branches with my tiny thumb and forefinger and carefully pulling off all the stems
kaos
Shit hits the fan every now and then. The last year that fan has seen quite a bit of shit and this particular week has certainly not been an exception. When you're already struggling to keep your head above water and someone sets a full 10 gallon hat
babble
There are days as I sit and watch the world go by and listen to those around me that I wonder if I’m in the waiting room for HBO shows. One mom talks about her divorce and her ex’s divorces. Messy and messier still. Another hands out homemade
babble
It began as a conversation with my daughter. Discussing eyes. Then eyelashes. Mascara. We ended up at fake eyelashes. The fake eyelash is something that many women have a chance to get to know throughout their lives. Some of us loathe them. Some of us love them. Some of us
poetry
curled up where in the summer there would be sun shivering but not from winter's nip as limbs stray reaching for long gone warmth not caring that they'd be warmer tucked in curled up protected from the hazy light that will never be a sunbeam