“Never limit yourself because of others’ limited imagination; never limit others because of your own limited imagination.” – Mae Jamison She is as simple as daybreak. I don’t think she’s ever had a new pair of glasses — not least the frames — in the 13 years I’ve known her. She commutes to work in…
You started not to like me. At first you thought: It’s not him. It’s me. It’s the Chemo, the kids, the stress, my weight. Drugs ended. Hair grew back. Boobs rebuilt. Life leveled as Kids reached an easy age And yet you Couldn’t shake feeling that I’d Turned on you. One time I toured then Didn’t come home.…
We’ve got two lives: one we’re given and the other one we make, And the world won’t stop, and actions speak louder Listen to your heart, and your heart might say Everything we got, we got the hard way. –“The Hard Way” Mary Chapin Carpenter Chapin’s song “The Hard Way” was released on the album “Come…
To further remind me of the random wonderfulness of the universe, I ended up last night at a live “coffeehouse” performance of Cassandra Kubinski, a singer-songwriter I had never heard of previously. Kubinski performed in the initimate and completed unplugged space of The Depot as part of the Milford Fine Arts Council’s 2011 Performance Coffeehouse.…
The fog and the mugginess this morning reminds me of London. Previously posted on Jan 16, 2006 Everybody’s got a darkness They’re not going to show it to you. It’s Monday and grey again in London. I dreamed of you last night. I sat in a cafe over cappuccinos with some friend. He told me…
“So tell me your dream Lay your head on my pillow Tell me the things that you hide away Your pain Your pleasure Your sorrow Tell me the things that you hide away Your pain your pleasure your sorrow.” –Blue Rodeo If you are looking for the less fortunate, you can find them waiting in…
I took this photo in May of 2007, which of course seems like about two weeks ago. We’ve been in this small state for almost two and half years and I see how time gets compressed–I’ve erased the afternoons and the mornings and the evenings and all that remains is the back and forth motion…
There are planned activities and there is structure and routine. There are things to entertain and items to educate. There are chores for me and for him and for us. And there is the emptiness of an afternoon, the dreaded sameness of a day, like today and any other day. There are the people who…
I was having a perfectly lovely lazy Thanksgiving when I notice a young teeny bopper-ish boy performing during halftime of the game that was on TV. He was pretty cute, I thought. Dark curly hair, sweet mischievous smile, eyes that crinkled to a squint when he grinned. In the photo, here, it’s the one on…
I’ve been getting attached to things that aren’t mine anymore, things that have moved on, most especially since I have been reading the “American Heritage Cookbook and Illustrated History of Eating & Drinking.” It was published in 1964 and is chock full of old American recipes, including the famous Chicken Corn Soup and Fastnachts that…
The Genius on my iPod might as well just say “Awesome Singer Songwriters Need Only Apply.” It is constantly shuffling around Chapin and Lyle, Pink Martini and Tom Waits, Emmylou and Patti Griffin, Catie Curtis and the Tragically Hip. And, of course, Jonatha. I’ve got other music dappled on the lists, but it is just…
Interrupting my A.M. snoozing time/Morning Edition listening hour this morning was Kate Remington of WSHU’s classical music morning telling me that she’d gotten to work early this morning for “a very special fundraiser.” Memorial Day weekend marked our one year anniversary back in the U.S., our return to National Public Radio. I love NPR. I…
I was juicing an orange this morning when a memory blast of Galway hit me. I didn’t juice any oranges, that I remember, in Galway, or any part of Ireland. I wonder what part of my brain shot me through with a violently lovely blip of those two days a year ago in Ireland. We…
One of the biggest downsides to being married is the slim-to-none chance of ever-again receiving a mix tape. Mix tapes, of course, aren’t tapes at all. And this is not because they really AREN’T tapes anymore. Mix tapes are quite simply– love. They say: “I like you so much, I sat for 8 hours on…
Aimee came to visit me and, so, I did what I do when people come to visit… I made plans. Came across a listing in Time Out London magazine (the website is useful, but nothing beats the actual publication… it is original, poignant and catches the exact tone of London’s edge. Not just a calendar.)…
