On Thursday, I turned on the water tap in the kitchen and nothing came out. The first thing I thought was, “Well, how am I…
Sometimes Writer Always Extremely Online
Category: Life
You’re out for a stroll with your two most important people, and there on the sidewalk, in bright pink chalk, are the words. And your…
In which I write poetry, which I don’t do much or well, but I did this because it’s been knocking around in my head and we are moving.
Zo’s seatbelt got stuck, and that’s when the trouble started.
We pull up every morning to the line in front of her school. One way in, one way out. I throw the car into [P]ark, and I wait for her to unbuckle, grab her things, open the door, and get out. I am not allowed (according to copious signage in multiple languages) to get out of the car and help her.
But her seatbelt buckle got stuck, and from the back of our four-door sedan I hear, “Mama, help?”
So I unbuckled and with my shortie short lady arms I managed to wrangle her out of her booster seat. After that she truly is on her own, getting her unicorn backpack, her unicorn lunchbox, Elsa-from-Frozen jacket, and an adult-sized Nissan Altima door open. Thwew. I don’t know how she does it. I admire her for it every day.
I admire her for it. The mom sitting behind us in the hulking black truck — does not.
HONK!
Zo started as I said, “Ignore her, just go. Go. Go.” And off she went, sprinting for class, even though she wasn’t late. I cast a glance at the truck, and then I saw her. I saw the Other Mom.
Speaking as a book lover, I have no problem getting rid of books.
This appears to be a bit of a scandal in the wider world at the moment ever since Marie Kondo told you all to burn your tomes and paint your naked bodies with the ashes*.
Sunday we planted, Zo and I. There were a number of tulip and daffodil bulbs leftover from last year I just never got around to planting, so on Sunday we endeavored to fix that.
Things I found at the farmer’s market: White guava White sapote Heirloom tomatoes Purple tomatillos Fresno chiles Things I’m making tomorrow because I found them…
Sunday night as I put your sister to bed, she held up the little heart-shaped scrap of cloth I gave her the day after you…
This weekend was X-man’s first real beach experience.
We were doing really well until he decided to taste the beach.
This is a repost from a very, very, very old blog of mine that has since crumbled into digital dust. In this day and age,…