In which I discuss places around this place we call home, in various stages of undress.
At the beginning of my parenting experience, I said “no” often. The noise and the mess was a lot to handle. Not to mention the plain issue of just keeping track of where all the little live bodies were in space and time. And what they were planning to put in their mouth at that…
Another sunrise, another lifeCreating is not remembering… It is to look and to hear and to write — without remembering. It is the immediate feelings arranged in words as they occur to me.” — Gertrude Stein We are all in our ruts, our patterns, our habits. It’s a relief, I suppose, to discover they are…
These are my “home shoes.” I don’t mean slippers or anything like that. What I mean is: when I am wearing this shoe configuation — ie. tennis shoes and blue jeans — I feel “home.” It’s a cultural thing. And a family thing. Growing up, this is what we wore: white tennis shoes, blue jeans,…
This weekend — at Art in Paradise Alley — you get the chance to stop staring at your screen. Walk outside. Talk to artists. To look inside yourself and ask: “What am I looking at?” Art takes us into the minds of the artist, true. But it’s best used for getting to know ourselves Art works…
Louis Bonaventure Chanez and Margaret Salome Urban Chanez Agnes Schebler Hiegel and Alois Hiegel — While I was at my parents place for their 50th, I got a little melancholy about genealogy. I guess as we get older, it’s easier to see how our lives are like a filament in a lightbulb… Once we break…
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…
A BIG QUESTION Guest Post by Krista Richards Mann — I love cooking. Starting in grade school, my mother let me make dinner for the family once a week. The first recipe I remember learning was something she called salmon patties. We removed small vertebras from a can of salmon with our fingers, mixed the…
A Thank You to Brittany Lyte It’s been a curious couple days since I was featured on the front page of the Connecticut Post’s Business section about my Demand Poetry business. I’m not used to being on that side of the news, it’s true. I was interviewed by CT Post reporter Brittany Lyte, who was young…
So in lately I’ve been enjoying the whole idea of “series”. The “Big Question” for September and December kept me focused on central themes, which was a lot of fun and kept me coming back to the blog and getting connected again with some other amazing writers. Even though my family keeps me really busy,…
When I lived in Kansas City, I was single. This meant that I spent a great deal of my energy and mind space being frustrated and unhappy about my “alone”ness. Like most young women (and men too, I guess), I really wanted to find someone special to connect with, to be with, so long as…
What is the rush, Rima asks? What is the haste to make waste of Autumn? — Part of “If Only in My Dreams,” the December Series of The Big Question.
December is the month of dreams, of nostalgia, of memories, expectations, hopes and disappointments. We were all little children once… dreaming our dreams of light and mystery, wide awake under our covers. It doesn’t matter whether those covers were cotton or silk. We are still those children. Some of us still imagine the twinkling light…
I’ve discovered that my friend Colleen Bradford Krantz and her colleague, Paul Kakert (who is from my hometown!) have had their documentary film, Train to Nowhere, nominated for a regional Emmy. I’m so proud of them, but not really for the recognition from the awards people. More than that, I am proud of Colleen and…
It’s 4:30 a.m. of course again. It’s a good time to think about things. In particular, how to change the world this week. As for me, I am thinking about how frustrated I get with other people: you know, I just can’t control them! Why won’t they follow my mind control??! I end up doing…
I-74Across the Mississippi–That Familiar vein throughMy life I Cross this morning east.Your still flatness hides Lonely strongCurrentsPulling me back. Day 9, A River of Stones
