My mom moved us from New York to Arizona the summer I turned eleven. When the plane landed, and 105 degrees of hell hit my face, I vowed to leave the state as soon as I was an adult and could make my own life. I left for college at eighteen and lived in Arizona…
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…
We moved to Venice, CA, when we left the desert. On our second day in our new city, I saw a woman on a bike in the middle lane of traffic. She was probably in her sixties. One pant leg rolled to reveal blue and white striped knee socks, her curly gray hair secured in…
I have not listened to music in nearly two years. I’ve listened to the occasional song in the car, the focus-chill playlist with no words, and our family plays a game where we pick a theme and then go around the room so everyone gets to play their musical interpretation of the theme. That’s fun.…
The hamster wheel is not about the hamster. Sure pet stores tout the need for exercise and occupation, but who’s really entertained by the fur friend running in endless circles? The ones who built the cage, I suspect. The wheel is in there, so those on the other side can clap. It’s a bit like…
The last day of 2021 deserves a blog post. Actually, 2021 was a real bitch and deserves nothing, but here goes. Endings are sometimes a party, but they are often tricky. The world lost Betty White today. OG move crossing to the other side on the last day of the year, but also difficult for…
A couple of weeks ago, I was exiting the parking garage of my apartment. It was morning, and while I waited to pull forward, I glanced toward the promenade that encircles the marina. It was breezy, the mist seemingly waking up and rolling about too. A woman stood a few feet from me with a…
I can’t write about cancer or surgeries or recovery or healing. Not because it’s too soon or I’m sad. I wrote a post about what I’ve been through and how it sucked and promptly deleted it. I can’t remember the last time I deleted a blog post, but God the thing was long and boring,…
If I were turning ten at the end of the month, this would be about stickers. It would be short and sweet because I neither loved to read nor kept a journal when I was ten. I was a talker at ten. If I were turning twenty at the end of the month, this would…
