. . . my life is ripe and full and luscious . . . Like aging, this opportunity to mature and learn is a gift . . .
Ladies, a Word . . .
It's time for women to call out the shitty back-stabbing behavior of their fellow women, the behind-the-hand whispers, the opaque negotiations that exile the less powerful and truly stand with and for each other.
I sit for a moment in the sun, breathing its warmth into the corners of my lungs. It was a good, hard three hours, and I'm ecstatic, filthy and exhausted. It's planting season, and the next six months hold mysteries I haven't even contemplated. But what will come will be managed.
Right now, there are slips of memories flitting through my head, shapes and shadows of people I've known. There must be some key to keeping those people fresh in your life, in your mind, but I have never known it.
My Magic 8 Buddha
Yesterday was Madeleine L'Engle's birthday. Her work was formative for me as a young girl, first as a reader (her most famous main character's name is Meg, after all), and then as a writer. My first short story when I was young was about time travel. Her characters and storylines gave me hope. She wrote... Continue Reading →