Yesterday one of my oldest friends called me… from the “inside.” Well, to put it more clearly, she called from an inpatient psych ward. My friend and I have known each other now as long as we have not known each other… longer actually. And since she met her husband about 3 weeks after I…
Category: Angst
Angst:
Stories that get mixed up, that feel out of place, that confuzzle the soul.
You Are Doing It All Wrong
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“You are doing it all wrong.” I go through distinct phases of my week/day/life when I can clearly hear myself telling this to myself. It might not matter exactly what I am doing — anything really from cleaning the house to baking a chicken — but the message is clear: you are doing it wrong.…
Sometimes it Takes Awhile
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The summer the kids and Colin and I went to Maine, we were not right in the head. That is to say, life was a little askew for all of us. It was good for us that August to pile in the van and get out of dodge. We drove a long way… up to…
We Interrupt this Life for a Meltdown
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Have you ever been puttering along a normal sort of way, and then suddenly, without warning, found yourself in a big wet, messy heap? Once when I lived in London, I drank a bit too much at the after-hours while working at the pub. I was walking back home around 2 a.m. and one minute…
My Friend, with Existential Chickens
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I have a super great old friend from college, Jen. She’s a writer (here’s her book) and a journalist. And a mom. She lives in Des Moines and recently she acquired chickens. She and her husband and her kids have chickens in their backyard. Do you ever look at your friends, when they do something…
Everyone Love Everyone
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— Part of the December “If Only in My Dreams” series. Thanks.
In My California Time
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I heard: “Big Sur is calling to me” and here’s what happened to me. I immediately felt the grey, El Nino winter that that I spent in California, in 1999. I was working in a restaurant in Kansas City at the time a place that was renovating. All the staff was given 6 weeks vacation,…
If I Were Not Awake
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If I were not awake before my alarm, I would have missed this delicate lavender sunrise, which isn’t all that different than any other perfect sunrise I’ve seen in the past, except that today it reminded me that being awake is the point, after all.
We want… More Time
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Last night, when the kids were tucked sweetly in footie pajamas and in bed, I started racing through a list of things I wanted to get done before I hit the hay myself. The list looked something like this: do dishes sort through 5 bins of summer clothes write blog post make contact with other…
Compassion Kitty, Who Are You?
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What does compassion mean? This week is the veritable “hump day” of my online e-course I am doing. The course has been enlightening, inspiring and exhausting. We’ve addressed “curiosity” and then “honesty,” writing about the ideas in our lives and identifying them in concrete ways. The writing has been coming easily. All of which makes…
A Dry Time
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You ever get a bit of time where you feel like you are just dry out of ideas? I never seem to be out of ideas, but it seems like lately I keep hitting a wall of no. The wall of no has quite a few people sitting on top of it, their hairy legs…
The Day, Stripped Down
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If you ask this question, I answer: Wake up, Kiss cheeks, Move sheets up to pillows Move aside blinds. (Daylight must have its way). Eat food. Water from a tap. Frozen bagels scorched In that metal box. Spread plates around the Craigslist table. Brush crumbs from cheeks. Get dressed. Move the hampers to move The…
On Being Underscheduled
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Ahhh. Today was one of those most perfect days. I was so happy because my zen-wonderful brother-in-law/sister-in-law and their kids were visiting. They have such a nice way of arriving with their own unplanned, unhurried, not-worried manner. They are — or seem to be — just quite happy to hang out at our house and…
Becoming Absorbent
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I haven’t been posting as frequently lately. I don’t consider this writer’s block, though I once did. This is because I have been thinking. A Little Story Once I sign up for a pottery class. My friend, Rita, forced me. She berated me until I went. Fine, I said. I am not writing anyway. Might…
Lean In
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There has been a small book on my bedside table for a couple months now. I opened it once, and after that I did not touch it. The book actually doesn’t seem to sit or even lie on the table. It seems to hover— held aloft from the earth and all its possessions from the…
