I don’t know what I am doing. You’ll say that’s not true, or I’m “taking a break,” but yesterday I practiced my print handwriting. I practiced it all day. I made tea. Got out a notebook and practiced my letters. Height, spacing, different pens, you name the variation, and I was working it. This may…
I’m going to miss summer fruit. I live in the desert, so I never miss summer. I don’t look forward to her arrival and when summer leaves it takes all my lady-like manners not to flip her the bird. But her fruit, I love her fruit. Peaches, all the different kinds of plums, nectaries, blackberries and watermelon.…
This morning’s hike was a gift. It’s starting to get warmer here in the desert. We are already into the 80s and the 90s are mere days away. It’s the trade off for our wonderful winter. Yucky hot summers. I’ve been anticipating, taking all things that can melt out to my car in preparation. Summer is…
Two pretty exciting things happened this weekend. We had a major thunderous, light up the sky lightening, pouring rain, storm last night at around midnight. It was house shaking incredible. Our property butts right up against Tonto National Forest, so when I look out the back of my house there’s nothing but desert, trees, cacti,…
I am home from the beach. We went for a week to visit my mom and Gil. We go every year for the 4th of July. There were eight of us because each child brought a friend. First time with friends and it was different…good different. A new layer. I baked, we played charades, ate crabs…
Summer sucks for white girls. Maybe not all white girls, but for this white girl Summer is a reminder that I don’t belong at the lake tubing or some beach volleyball game. Maybe I have a few unresolved issues from high school, but I’m never going to be tan, cocoa oiled, and I’m tired of…
Writing is an interesting pastime, job, hobby, passion. Whatever you want to call it, it’s a unique way to spend your time. I write when I’m sad, frustrated and most of the time when the stories or voices in my head will not be quite. I have to consciously make myself write when I’m happily…
I will miss the rain when I’ve passed on… When I’ve died, gone to the other side, whatever happens when I’m no longer living in my body, I will miss the rain. I’m not sure when I started thinking this way. At some point I began realizing that I would not be here forever…