We all know how to do something well — write a post that teaches readers how to do something you know and/or love to do.
- Stick out your tongue.
I Didn't Just Wake Up This Morning With A Craving
I Write To Understand. I Write To Stop Time
We all know how to do something well — write a post that teaches readers how to do something you know and/or love to do.
I Can’t Stay Mad at You
My birth father doesn’t know about the Wee One. At least, I didn’t tell him, though in these days of internet, he may know. His first grandchild, and he doesn’t know – we haven’t talked in 14 years. In the past, the few times we did talk, I was resentful of him and the years of abuse, but I was also hopeful for reconciliation. Then, when his current wife was reaching out to me, (a really fucking interesting series of conversations there),
A place from your past or childhood, one that you’re fond of, is destroyed. Write it a memorial.
Oh humble law building… (You were a law building, right?)
A small rectangular building standing awkwardly on blacktop, I can’t quite imagine that parking lot without it.
To the building, I may have been just another kid on a sky blue 10-speed bike, but that building was my greatest triumph.

For the first time ever, Cohiba and I are not able to be with family over Thanksgiving. We’re both really bummed about it. Not necessarily because we feel any big pull towards Thanksgiving, but we don’t see our families that often, and we really like to share the Wee One with them. (Also, his family lives in Columbus so they’re Ohio State fans, and it’s always fun to watch the Ohio/Michigan game with them. I’m also a little partial to Michigan because they’re social work program is so stellar, and my Ohio family knows that. It makes for some good trash talk. 🙂
So to put a positive spin on something that’s a little disappointing, I’m focusing on good reasons to stay here this holiday:
Continue reading “10 Good Things About Being Away From Family On A Holiday”
To quote and adapt from Shakespeare: “Did my eyes see till now?” “Did my skin feel till now?” etcetera.
My husband emerges from the walk-in closet, sporting a pair of wrinkled green dress pants and a collared shirt that can only be described as candy apple red. “Does this match?” he asks with a note of uncertainty, standing before me like a contestant on the firing line of What Not to Wear. I respond …
Source: Five Senses of Motherhood
I hate that I have to deal with this and my Wee One. I have to protect her from it, to the extent that I’m able, teach her about it, help her name it, help her learn, see her deal with in. I hate it.
There’s this thing that happens whenever I speak about or write about women’s issues. Things like dress codes, rape culture and sexism. I get the comments: Aren’t there more important things to worry about? Is this really that big of a deal? Aren’t you being overly sensitive? Are you sure you’re being rational about this?
Every. Single. Time.
And every single time I get frustrated. Why don’t they get it?
I think I’ve figured out why.
They don’t know.
They don’t know about de-escalation. Minimizing. Quietly acquiescing.
Hell, even though women live it, we are not always aware of it. But we have all done it.
We have all learned, either by instinct or by trial and error, how to minimize a situation that makes us uncomfortable. How to avoid angering a man or endangering ourselves. We have all, on many occasions, ignored an offensive comment. We’ve all…
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If we were having coffee, I would be sipping tea again. I was feeling better, but now my throat hurts again. Dude! you exclaim. You were just sick! You need to sleep more! I agree, secretly impressed
The Wee One got up at 5:00 this morning, God help us. She’s been sniffly and her sleep was disjointed last night. I got up with her, we did our morning things, and she took her first (blessedly long) nap. After we got up from that and had been up for awhile, Cohiba got up as well and came out to the living room to greet us. While he was holding her,
A dear Muslim friend of mine just posted on Facebook about how afraid she and her family are about the rhetoric being said about Muslims in the U. S. and the “promise to protect the (non-Muslim) citizens.”
To my shame, I hadn’t even thought of her or other Muslim friends that have been grappling with this for a week.