I think I’ve told you guys about the period of time I was a door canvasser for a political action group. I spent five hours a day knocking on doors, followed by a couple of hours of bars and drinking. Crash somewhere, maybe home. Repeat. It was a lot of fun for awhile.
- Playing drums in a rooftop jam session. The guy bending over, Andy, ODed a few years later. Livin’ life.
During this time, every day with hippies and slackers, when people asked how we were we would say noncommittally, “Oh, ya know. Livin’ life.” Which meant we weren’t doing shit.
Continue reading “Livin’ Life”
A memory I wish to save about putting Wee One to bed on night.
Continue reading “One Night’s Bedtime Routine”
I initially wrote this in January, and just not get around to publishing it. Sorry.
On December 22, I got the first stripe on my white belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu.
I mentioned it once, and I’ve been training all this time. I had to step away a certain points, like when I had my gallbladder out, but I’m still in it. I can’t say if I love it like some people opine so vehemently. I like it enough to stick around. I like the challenge. I like working on something that will challenge me for years. Like a puzzle I can do for the rest of my life.
Continue reading “A Stripe On My Belt”
The tag line on this blog is “I write to stop time,” and as I get older, I find I want to stop time more and more. (Actually, I don’t know if that’s true. There were moments I loved and wanted to hold onto when I was younger. Of course, I destroyed all my journals from before the accident and those are the memories I don’t have.)
I have to begin letting go.
Right now, Wee One is in a phase when she tells me, “You need me!” which means, “I need you,” or “I want you here with me.”
I used to say that to my mom. I would say, “I wanna hold you.”
Continue reading “Some Days Are Hard”
Can you believe it? Wee One is four years old.
For the past four years and nine months, I have been anxious and worried and freaking out about how I would handle having a baby and then a toddler. All that talk about terrible twos and the threenager threat. I was so worried about being a good mother to her during that time.
Continue reading “Four Years Old”
I had a story idea the other day. It came through one of my favorite avenues: those little pre-sleep dreams.
Continue reading “Dreamlet”
We all wanted the same thing, and I was one of the first ones taken off the rack. A brand new scrunchy. Like the others, I was white decorated with a red emblem. I was edged with a fine, though lengthy, lace trim. A woman bought me and took me to her home. I was so excited to see the world.
Continue reading “Scrunchy Identity Crisis: A Tiny Tale”