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I woke up this morning still hacking up my lungs and unable to breathe through either nostril – another day of my summer cold. Stella woke me at 5:15 and I would not give in until 5:47 at which point I could no longer stand her whining. Outside for dog activity and peeing, inside for feeding, then walking, then finally I made a cup of decaf and by the time I got the cup to…
The new generation is called Boomerang before them were the Millennials, and there was Gen-X, and every generation has been defined by some overarching theme. What will Tin’s generation be called? Hard to say, there is still so much to find out about them. For now I still grapple with what to call us, should I say I’m an older mom or is that fact self-evident? Why do people assume I’m a single mother? What…
You have to run the tap water till it gets cold. You jump into a lukewarm pool to get refreshed. People are happy when the sky darkens and lightning flashes because they know the rain will ease the heat. In one weekend, you can make five new friends. Despite the fact that it is Africa hot outside people are playing volleyball, running, and outside!
Good books. Some good friendships. Some good lovers. Childhood. Puppy-hood. Good movies. Delicious meals. Birthday celebrations. Hot showers. Sleep.
A friend of mine has recently cut back her hours and is having a tough time trying to rejigger her scheduling. She has time – but for what? It’s a good question as most people who are on the treadmill juggling children, jobs, and relationships are begging for time off – time to BE – with nothing on their agenda but a good book and perhaps even a cocktail with an umbrella in it. I’m…
“I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost… I am helpless. It isn’t my fault. It takes forever to find a way out. I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don’t see it. I fall in again. I can’t believe I am in the same place. But, it isn’t my fault. It still takes…
So a very special friend of mine has offered me insight into who this man is that has been popping up in my dreams as of late – it’s very possibly my first love. Ken McElroy passed a few years ago and yet my memories of him remain as clear as a bell. I found this photo of us taken in my early 20s – as you can see he fits the dream description of…
I had that dream again – the second time this month – where a man with a beard is in my bed. This time, I heard the heavy footsteps walking through the house as he came into the bedroom and climbed into bed and wrapped himself around me. I could feel his beard grazing my neck. Only, unlike last time, when I woke to find him and asked, “What are you doing here?” and he…
For the Papas (A Shout Out Poem) This is for the pot bellied papas. This is for those men who may not run around the block but will chase ghosts from little girls’ closets. This is for the closet lullaby singers. This is for the dead ringers for Bill Cosby whenever a turntable is spinning. This is for the hat wearing brothers with vanishing vanity, but they rock it side tipped and 60’s hip. This…
Friday the 13th, full moon, and a memorial service, or at least that is how this day started. In the pouring rain, black clouds, low visibility, getting lost with GPS and finding the park where my friend’s service was being held in an open air pavilion with a slide show. Photos of her marrying her husband, having her kids, smiling, grooving, living. Why is it that death takes so much from us? Why, when death…