come back

last summer i stumbled upon a small store in.. well if i say where it will sounds like i am making it up or am trying to sound fancy or whatever but the point is i found it and in it was the most amazing collection of clothing. in hindsight, i should have known: the wooden sign for the store was swinging in such a way, it was clear something was afoot. initially we walked past it - me staring at the sign as we approached and then passed it, hurrying to our lunch reservation, big group party, careful of the cobbled stones, hurry hurry etc - but then ten steps passed i stopped, said i would meet them there, and ran back, holding my then-four year old’s hand. we walked in and both immediately gasped. she because it was mostly flouncy dresses and looked like clothing fairies would wear and me because.. well it looked like clothing fairies would wear. but not the sparkling glittery going-to-a-ball-every-night kind of fairy but rather the kind of fairy that lives out at the edge of the woods, in a house that is part tree roots and part stone and moss. and this fairy is like an herbalist and/or a midwife and she has lots of crockery and two maybe three cats max. she lives alone, takes no nonsense, is always busy, often barefoot, always ready to laugh, etc. also she kind of dresses like it is the 80s but in earth tones only. like an extra in a duran duran video, but friendlier though not particularly in a super smiley way.

dear friends, once more

my girls are 5 and 7 now, so if i were someone else i would say that is still very young, those are little kids and the mom is still a new mom in a way. but woah, it feels very differently on this side. on this side, it seems like there so’s many versions, even lifetimes!, of me as a mother. the expectant mother, the nursing mother, the toddler mother, the pre-school mother, the elementary school mother. and then there’s the patient mother, the creative mother, the mother-who-loses-her-shit, the depressed mother, the grateful mother, the stressed-out mother, the joyful mother, the cuddly mother, the lazy mother.

three years and change

a few weeks ago, right before the new year, i kept thinking over and over “we are living in the future!” and yes, hello 2019, it is indeed the future. and my fingers have been itching to write down, type down, tell someone, even just yell it out into the void that is the internet, that i am still here and that we are living in the future, folks. which 1) means i am getting old (something i am semi-preoccupied with, somewhat in a soppy way but also somewhat in a bad way. more on that later. maybe. lucky you.) and so 2) i have decided to revive this little corner of mine on the web. it has indeed gotten cobwebby but easily spiffied up thank goodness, just one night - er, and day - of biting my lip and cursing my sad outdated tech skills. my writing alas alack is not better, not full of grace and wisdom, but is more like how whenever i get the random chance to play a piano for a minute or two, my fingers still manage somehow to find the exact same errors and stumbles they did the last time i played the piano with any kind of regularity, that is, twenty-four years ago. so, that sucks. anyhow, i need a place to talk. maybe just to myself, and that is ok.

how to avoid burnout and sadness, no joke.

I had a long to-do list today, most of which involved going out to the city and calling people and making appointments and so on. All of that has, as of 12:09, been ditched and again, as of 12:10, as I type, that feels like the right decision. It is easier, sure - and I am suspicious of that but I have also learned at the wise old age of 38 (!) to trust my gut. One or two phone calls can’t wait, so those will happen.. but everything else can wait. Instead, here’s my list of what’s done so far:

Pagination