state of the union. #forreal

i’ve not had a full week where the kids were in school all five days since christmas. i love having them home, but its not even been snowing and its February. and while, that winter a couple years back, i did go ‘the shining’ crazy with the ‘too much snow’… i’m going to be sad if we don’t even have one big snow this year.  today is spring. its February.

work is weird. see above paragraph for its first sentence. i work at home, so when there’s a person home sick and i have to tend? mm. work stoppage. and my work is weird and inconsistent in the first place, so all the more do i need to be available when it appears. but hello MLK day. (i love him, and wish his words tattooed on our current leaders face.) and then a half day for teachers to be force-taught something by the administrators. then there was something else, sickness maybe? damn.

but i’m editing a hot hot hot dominant-submissive romance novel right now so it is a blessing and a privacy issue that the children need to be out of the house for me to do that particular work. (oye. whoosh. side eyes, man. happy, sweaty work. ) and they are gone, and the work is underway, and after the first reading where your body is on fire? after that you can go back and edit for verb tenses and the their/they’re/there problems that it seems the world still carries…

its better than being a toothpaste cap tightener.

(who can tell me THAT book reference? )

as for the world? the politics? i can’t even handle the snark anymore.  its just full-on disgust. for all of them. the world is literally crumbling and the dozen chickens are squabbling over the same three bits of food.

the president is a moron. yes, i do think that. and yes, i do think he is in collusion with the Russians.

yes, i think the Democrats and Republicans and the billionaires are responsible and happy about the current idiocy in politics.  it keeps everything just fine for them, doesn’t it?

all cozy cozy.

ugh. 0202191520

my boys play deathmatch indoor soccer, or at least, thats what i call it.  its like politics… pinball for the humanbeing, ceaseless running after a ball that races towards you.

unlike politics, this game is fun to watch.


Self-Check, and then WHAT? (bullets AND asterisks)

So. if one realizes that she is setting up dates just to avoid doing stuff by herself, then what?

should something be shifted?

STUPID ONLINE DATING again. and what it makes you think about.

  • i had two dates this weekend. technically three, but we mutually cancelled the third because it was too much of a hookup connection and that is easy, but not what i am looking for currently. boy* was nice that it was mutual, he’s probably a nice, but randy fellow.

  • i don’t really want to have two dates again this weekend. at the end of it all, i felt like my weekend had sort of been hijacked by the experience.  could’ve been the three sports events too… but sunday lunch getting the kids and being wiped out isn’t really my bag.

  • one of the dates was really nice. i would have liked to be invited out to dinner by him. he plants trees. no invite yet. and none coming. boy.**

  • the other date was also nice, but definitely an incompatible situation, and thats where i have to stop to maintain graciousness.

  • so, what? i’m… what? why do i feel like i need to make decisions? like, Decisions? wild directional changes because of a mundane and uninteresting weekend?


*can’t tell you how long its been since i ‘decided’ not to go for the easy.  damn. easy is way more fun than ego-bruising curiosity games.

**RESILIENCE!!   ….it takes me a good ten hours to get my ego back to a good spot (it being one of the first times i ever didn’t get a second date request…) … ten hours and then i can honestly say that it doesn’t have to do with me, as much as it does with him, what he is looking for and what he wants for his life, whatever that may be.   during that ten hours, though? boy.* i am full of the suckitude and the fears.  am i too fat now? am i not as funny as i think? am i too much of a mom? too much? too much? too much?

*** unconnected asterisks***   all the men i’ve had first dates with? it wasn’t about them, either. it was about me. and what i can handle, or not, or how much ‘drama’ i foresee in my pretend mind…. and some of them were really nice, and good. wanting a second date sucks. thats where the hard stuff actually is. (but also some more fun stuff.)

i want the fun stuff. I WANT THE FUN STUFF!






it used to be that the heroes vanquished the dragons. now, i wonder how we could all become dragons.

 what would happen if i actually did stop feeding them? 

8, such a pretty curvature.

low-lying pants still haven’t died out. i’m still not interested in seeing what kind of underwear you guys are wearing. still. and now i’m 44. i’m so old. why is that style still around? everything else has gone the way of the dodo and then returned. why has this one never left? thank god skinny pants also exist. at least there is variety. but skinny pants lying low so i still see your butt? damn, man, stop.  

You are allowed to be in a season of discovery and deep repair. You are allowed to be unformed and wordless as you change. You are allowed to pour time and energy into inner transformations that no one can see but you. in an email… 

Anna Viola Lovind was talking about safety today, and creation… over on instagram. its so beautiful, and i’m all up in it.  I don’t even know if you can link to instagram like this… but she’s @annaviolalovind and its worth watching her there, for beauty’s sake.

today i sent my 13 year old boy to a school that had a threat yesterday.  we got a call from the superintendent last night saying that they, and the police, were taking it very seriously, and school would run normally today, wednesday. this morning i called the police station to assure myself that the threat had been removed.  WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK.  the world. the community. we’ve already all failed. WHAT THE FUCK. i sent him because he had a basketball game and he would not want to miss that.  FUCK .  FUUUUUUUCK. my heart hurts. minute to minute. hurts. 

I thumped my chest this morning, with my sick kid, because WE are Glorious. still. 

I miss holding hands with someone. If you can, go do that. Don’t take it for granted.BarnPhotoi dream of a barn like this, as an art studio, or a house for me in my old age… i’m not that complicated, as it turns out. also, interesting to note: do i really envision sharing it? can i ? 



asterisk, not bullet.

a moment, a star to mark what has been left out.

left out? so many things.

*the insecurity that keeps us back… we believe its insecurity that keeps us from being our wild and precious stuff.

*people keep saying they are grieved by mary oliver’s death.  i am not.  she has left us such a precious gift, my god, what more does anyone want from a life?

nothing gold can stay.

but i can read her glitter absolutely any time that i want to, or need to. Its still here. ITS STILL HERE!!!

*the adulting that makes us need tell another adult we don’t want to romantically pursue them. or have them pursue us.

the feeling that results when there is no pursuit. even if the above sentence is also true.

*the place in myself that is getting depressed at not meeting anyone that fires up my heart fires. maybe a belief that nothing gold can stay is making its weight felt too heavily.

*the deep worry that it is not insecurity, but fatheaded laziness that keeps us from our greater wild. inability. lassitude.

because maybe that is true.

these are the left-outs. the misfits. the misfires.



i killed the sofa.

and i’m weeping about it.

hiding from my kids style.

because i approached the handmedown sofa with a drill and a hammer and the screws and nails needed and i couldn’t fix it. and maybe i made it worse, because now no one else will ever be able to undo what i have done.

and in combination with my depression about not finding men that i want in my life, i am finding a lot of fault in my inability to fix the fucking sofa.

i told my kid i needed to be the person who does all this stuff. and i can’t . i can’t do all this stuff.

which leads me to men, again, which then leads me back again, and again, to my desire to fix my own fucking sofa. and yet, i have killed it. dead.

so i’m withdrawing from my life for the afternoon. on a chair. because its becoming way bigger than a sofa.



and all i want to do is apologize for this post, because no one needs to feel sorry for me, or pay attention to rambling self-pity.