Hamster Hurricanes

original artwork entitled "IT'S BEDTIME ALREADY GEESH!"I love my people, I really do, but tonight they stayed up until 10 p.m. giggling and sneaking out of bed to "blow on the hamster so it falls out of it's wheel". I remember sneaking out of my bed to party and eat bean burritos I had hidden under … Continue reading Hamster Hurricanes

"MOM! WHY ARE YOU BWOWING YOUR NOSE?!?!"*

*asks Shel every time I pick up a Kleenex. No more privacy than a goldfish I tell you.Just popping in to say hello. Does anyone else get stressed when they have to write the word, "popping"? Because I'm always afraid I'm writing "pooping", and I NEVER want to write, "I'm just pooping in" for reasons … Continue reading "MOM! WHY ARE YOU BWOWING YOUR NOSE?!?!"*

The Torn Up To-Do List: How To Be A Good Christian When You’re A Big Failure

With babies, weeks are blurry even when you get new spectacles. Four days out from Monday and I'm still in a fog, thinking about sad things, the things that visit when you sleep in a chair all night. I try not to sleep in chairs as a rule, but lately I have been unable to … Continue reading The Torn Up To-Do List: How To Be A Good Christian When You’re A Big Failure

The Cricket and the Ice Cream Cone

When it gets dark and quiet, and all the world sleeps, I am awake. I look out my window and see the moon, almost full and almost bright, illuminating the passing clouds and shining down on my street, my house, and my cricket.The cricket sings outside my bedroom window and in the middle-night hours when … Continue reading The Cricket and the Ice Cream Cone

Growing Up And Messing Up

I live in a world of Goodnight Moon and playdough clumps hidden in the cracks of my dining chairs. Race cars and rocket ships made of used paper towel rolls mingle with my unfolded underwear. I walk the halls with a pedicure, chipped from stumbling over toy trains in the middle of the night.I stroke … Continue reading Growing Up And Messing Up

Because I Don’t Own A Foghorn

A week ago, I was here...And it was fourteen ways of beautiful and 6.3 ways of cold. I had a bowl of clam chowder alone and I stared at the clouds out the window. I listened to the sound of voices in a crowded chowder joint, disjointed and rushing, like the waves outside.The person next … Continue reading Because I Don’t Own A Foghorn