July 2, 2017

Finding myself. Again.

It’s been months since I’ve written. Amended: it’s been months since I’ve written anything beyond an obituary, and that particular piece needed the courage that a bottle of wine provides. There have been a variety of reasons: I’m too busy and there’s crap at work and my mother is dying and the house is dirty, blah blah blah. I should have been writing through all of it and instead I’ve written through none of it. I’ve written plenty in my head, sure, but nothing made it to the fingers and onto the page. I have a novel ready for heavy editing. A flash non-fiction piece ready to send out for hopeful publication. A creative non-fiction book in the early stages of interviews and transcribing. A million short stories and essays backlogged in my brain, all fighting for air.

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February 16, 2017

Watch out. She’s writing again.

I finally, for the first time in well over a month, have time and space to write. It feels amazing. And yet, I sit here and struggle to think of some topic worthy of committing to paper. Or screen, rather.

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January 8, 2017

Nosy

Before Christmas I got sick, and then I got mostly better, and then right before New Year’s I got sick again. Even sicker than before. This time was so bad that I finally agreed with M that yes, I should probably go see a doctor. I called the office of our ENT, a brilliant doctor who doesn’t accept insurance, charges a clean $45 co-pay (cash, check or charge), doesn’t take appointments, but always seems to be there when you need him. Patients call his office line to hear the daily message from him, to learn what time to be there that day or, if calling at night, the next day, if you want to be seen. He usually holds office hours first thing in the morning and/or later at night. He has twice seen M the evening before international trips, getting him in and out with much-needed meds and saving what could have been incredibly uncomfortable intercontinental flights. He even leaves his cell phone number on his answering machine, so on the off-chance he’s not there when you need him, you can easily reach him to set something up. We love this man.

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January 1, 2017

Goodbye, 2016. Hello, 2017.

On the face of it, 2016 stunk it up, and so many of us are happy to see it go. 2016 brought a torrent of cultural and political pain from which the country is still reeling. On a personal level, it wasn’t exactly a banner year, either. As I reflected on the past year over the past week, I found myself scowling and angry, and frightened for what’s to come.

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December 7, 2016

Move-ember

I covered a lot of miles in November. I’m not exaggerating or being facetious or even speaking in metaphors, which I have been known to do from time to time. I actually covered a lot of miles.

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September 22, 2016

The Crash of a Hero

One of my favorite childhood toys was an Evel Knievel action doll. Evel’s diminutive doppelganger was a slim man in a white pantsuit with a deep, dark blue V chest applique that was studded with white stars. He had a matching white helmet and a cape. His white gloved hands were perfectly molded to clamp onto the handlebars of his shiny motorcycle. That motorcycle locked into a plastic hand crank that allowed me to wind him up and set him flying, just like the real Evel Knievel.

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September 15, 2016

Pop Goes The Small Town

We drove to Cincinnati for Labor Day weekend, and on the way home we drove through Brazil, Indiana, population 7,912, seat of Clay County. And no longer, unfortunately, Home of the Popcorn Festival. That slogan, emblazoned upon the tallest structure in all the land (a water tower), is now tragically outdated. We saw the water tower, and in a quirky mood to find fun, new places to visit, I googled it. “Maybe we can come back for the Popcorn Festival,” I chirped, as Zoe dozed in the backseat and M concentrated on not running into the idiots on the highway who camp out in the left lane going 15 mph slower than everyone else.

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