This business about “If you write, you’re a writer” is off-putting. No one ever says, “If you nurse someone back from a cold, you’re a nurse,” or “If you can spout the law, you’re a lawyer.” I get that the phrase is meant to encourage aspiring writers or maybe even seasoned ones who missed a word count or are…
There is something about Sunday that justifies the rest of the week. It’s like a reconciliation of emotion, a washing away of frustrations. Sundays soften slights, and things that ran so deep and urgent on Monday become whispers on the last day of the week. There are no regrets on a Sunday; no mess-ups or…
I bought this lamp on 1st Dibs. After reviewing the pictures, I decided I had to have it. It was delicate and spoke to a part of me that always longed for sophistication, if only on my nightstand. I imagined the tiny fairy lamp next to the yellow tray where I put my earrings before…
As a child, I imagined my body as a construction site. I am not sure where this originated, but I believed tiny workers in hardhats were throughout my body and in charge of my significant systems. If I had a stomach ache, I would say, “The guys in my tummy are working hard today.” Weird?…
I have this gorgeous journal. The pages are soft and a lovely shade of ivory. The cover is patched together textiles and embroidered seams. There is a pocket in the front to tuck treasures and inspiration. If I could dream up a journal, this one would be the one. I have a beautiful fountain tip…
I am 1985 Allison Reynolds lost on the set of Mean Girls. Let’s preface this rant with the truth that I love my apartment. It houses my favorite office and is located in a gorgeous spot. I have no complaints. But if, as my kids like to say, someone grabbed me by the throat and…
If I were a painter, I would wear a twist of string tied to my ankle long ago by a lover who never promised and left before I ever asked. I would live and work in an echoing flat with iron floor-to-ceiling windows and colorful but cracked tile in the tiny toilet. The window near…
The maintenance guy thinks I’m a serial killer. We’ve had some issues with our smoke detectors going off at random intervals, and the joys of apartment life allow for a quick email to the maintenance department. A lovely man arrived yesterday. He changed some batteries. I stood with him under the alarm near my office…
This boat sits in the marina by my home. I walk by three times a day with Jack. At night, the warm light within makes it special. A man sits at the small table inside and works on a large wooden boat model. Jack and I slow to glance over every evening. The man sits…
