If we happen to be fighting while we’re walking down the sidewalk, for example, He asks me to please keep my voice down. His eyes dart all around like bees. Unlike most bees in this situation, when he hears my raised voice, he is scared. Maybe because we’re fighting, But probably because other people can… Read More Dear Women, Please scream in public.
I don’t want to die. And. There is so much magic in the world, I’m discovering. Palo Santo smoke and steam from lemon balm and mint curling up. I’m awake. My neck hurts from a night spent sleeping, somehow, in the wrong position. Not enough of a cradle for the nerves, bones, soft tissue connecting… Read More Fear and Magic
Well sonofabitch you guys. I’ve been feeling great. Even though there have been some familiar and unfamiliar problems, I’ve still been rocking it. I’m embarrassed to have just written that here because this blog holds my past up like a mirror. The exuberant spring, the broken summer and now this. I can’t keep up an… Read More The humble work of being human
Is it normal to feel, at the age of 38, like you are just starting to figure out how to live a good, satisfying human life? Since coming out of my reproductive coma, I’ve been wandering into a particular state in which I feel like I can see and understand all of the things. Or… Read More Chambers of knowing
Yo ladies and gents! Are you ready for your DIY summer project? All you need is 5 minutes and a commitment to gender equity! So stop stirring your artisinal, small batch, organic playdough, and go load some locally-sourced, recycled paper into your printer. Cause we need you for the revolution. Read on. “Protagonism is Propaganda… Read More Join the feminist picture book revolution with this free tool
Typically, I wouldn’t smile after I told you this story. If I were being typical, I would finish it up with an exasperated guffaw that means, “Aren’t they insane? Don’t you just dream about being in a silent room alone, eating grapes?” But because of a particularly brilliant session with my new therapist counselor person… Read More Sidewalk candy or My son is not horrible at all
On New Years Day, I sat in the hard shell of a chair at the laundromat. I alternately felt fine and so broken that I wondered if any of the other launderers could tell. Did they see how my insides trembled as I struggled to get the washing machine handle to lock? Finally, the metal… Read More Motherhood, trauma, and a washing machine