someday saturday

some average summer weekend morning, who knows how long from now, i'll be sitting at an old gorgeously-gouged wooden kitchen table with my coffee (in a self-made mug), looking through one of the two sets of glass sliders that corner the kitchen off toward the ocean (both slightly open to let in the morning's salty air), watching the lobstahmen troll through the cove checking traps. i'll be smiling, knowing that if i were out on the dock with my coffee, they'd gladly toss me a couple soft-shells in exchange for a thermos refill. i'm working on the list of things i'd like to get done that day (get to the farmers market, finish writing chapter whatever, call editor to report that i'd finished writing chapter whatever, work on fixing the walkway where it washed out since its been on my list every saturday for several weeks already, crank up the fire in the outdoor oven for dinner that night, etc.), when jen comes into the kitchen and stands behind me, wrapping her arms around my neck and starting the whispering of our good morning routine (you know, the one that our kids mock every time we invite them to dinner with any of our friends, though you know as well as we do that they secretly love every minute of), and it'll occur to me...

this is my perfect day

this is the one i day-dreamed about all those years ago, sitting at my desk at UNA early in the morning, preparing for an inevitably unnecessarily complicated meeting, having talked to my dad on the phone for the whole hour commute about the government and the economy and how i should take more interest in what's going on.


confession: 5 golden rings

today was a 5 donut day ["doughnut" if you prefer].

i know i'm a big girl. i know my family has rampant diabetes and heart disease. i know my knees and ankles ache playing racquetball. and we all know i get winded just walking across campus... yet i still ate 5 donuts. that's a whole 5 donuts more than i needed, and if i had a partridge, or pears on a tree, i'd probably eat them too.

why? because i'm a big girl and my family has rampant diabetes and heart disease and my knees and ankles ache playing racquetball and i get winded just walking across campus.

i know it doesn't make sense. believe me, it doesn't really make any more sense to me. eat to live, don't live to eat, right? of course, i know there are psychological explanations for this terrible behavior, from eating releasing feel-good hormones, to the idea of dulling whatever the pain happens to be with the instant gratification of deep fried goodness, etc. but the psychology doesn't end there, rather continues along its vicious cycle, as i sneak the 3rd, 4th and 5th donuts. core-deep disappointment settles over me and my still-sticky fingers as i imagine the box of ice cream in the freezer at home, as well as the horror and shame that comes with thinking that someone might stop me especially because we both know they really need to stop me.

when i feel powerless, i cope by eating out of control, knowing the whole time that it simply makes it all that much worse.

i should be stronger than donuts.


[wo]man alive

"The whole is greater than the part. And therefore, I, who am [wo]man alive, am greater than my soul, or spirit, or body, or mind, or consciousness, or anything else that is merely a part of me. I am [wo]man alive, and as long as I can, I intend to go on being [wo]man alive. For this reason I am a novelist. And being a novelist, I consider myself superior to the saint, the scientist, the philosopher, and the poet, who are all great masters of different bits of [wo]man alive, but never get the whole hog. The novel is the one bright book of life... only in the novel are all things given full play, or at least, they may be given full play, when we realize that life itself, and not inert safety, is the reason for living. For out of the full play of all things emerges the only thing that is anything, the wholeness of a man, the wholeness of a woman, man alive and live woman."

– D.H. Lawrence, from Why the Novel Matters


like a nickel in a paper shredder

i sometimes get the impression i don't really belong here

practice makes perfect

quick! grab a pen and a piece of paper.
are you ready?

now... draw a blank.