Yesterday, before 8:00 a.m., I closed all 800 open tabs in my internet browser, shut down the ol’ desktop for the first time in months and set it on the floor, and then said a little pseudo-prayer before heaving my hunk of a desk up onto my thighs and wiggle-walking my way through one narrow doorway, down the hallway, through another narrow doorway, and then collapsing into my sunroom. Read the rest of this gem…
An unmistakable look of panic overtook her facial features as she put a hand to her throat and ran towards the bathroom. Read the rest of this gem…
Oh, hi. It’s me. Remember? I’m the girl who sometimes blogs around these parts.
Lately though, instead I’ve been: Read the rest of this gem…
It’s a bit of a juvenile title, I’ll admit. Reminiscent of the essay questions our teachers asked us to answer back in grade school. Read the rest of this gem…
“So are you the mom?”
The face from whence the question came looked so youthful. So innocent. But apparently that didn’t stop me from wanting to curse it to a lifetime of rosacea and adult onset acne, or perhaps watch it grow hairy warts and wrinkle prematurely, right there in front of the White by Vera Wang ultra tufted tulle. Read the rest of this gem…
Sometimes in this life I find myself somewhere — stepping into new territory either mentally or physically — and it feels as though I’m slowly emerging from a haze of anesthesia. Everything feels cloudy, surreal, like it can’t really be happening. Read the rest of this gem…
When writing a blog, some of us put a literal — yes, literal — piece of ourselves out into the world, like a fish tossed to hungry gulls. Sometimes it’s nonsense. Something silly, with the intent to entertain. And sometimes it’s real, an investment, a feeling exposed. And sometimes, at the end, we’re left feeling like that carcass picked clean — tugged and torn with bones laid bare and yet strangely, still, immensely loved. Read the rest of this gem…
Honestly?
It’s weird to admit, knowing what I know now, but I kind of subconsciously thought that the wedding phase of Justin’s and my life was officially behind us. Without even realizing it was happening, we had fully submerged ourselves into the baby shower phase. If you’re in your early thirties or beyond, you likely know what I mean — that phase when all of your friends start drinking the Kool-Aid and suddenly the majority of your conversations revolve around nipple latching and mucus plugs rather than summer travel plans and recent favorite reads. Unless those reads were about nipple latching or mucus plugs. Read the rest of this gem…
Coarse brush and scraggly trees cleave deep roots into shallow soil and hunks of stone, breaking apart with slow determination the very lifeblood they need to survive. The lawn is maintained, for all intents and purposes, where no lawn should grow, and strangely verdant vines drape over the walls of the fortification, attempting to either touch its toes or swallow it whole. Read the rest of this gem…
For reasons more likely due to the amount of weed I smoked in high school than anything ominous, (really though, Mom — it wasn’t that bad), I remember very little from my childhood. Only snippets. I’m honestly relieved. Read the rest of this gem…