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.
Having contact with people who will listen without trying to convince me that my experience could not possibly have been as bad as I claim, who then have their own stories that line up in tidy parallels to mine makes me feel like I'm suddenly whole, real, verifiable.
Teaching adults has stirred a part of my music brain that has been silent for a while.
We don't celebrate Valentine's Day much here.
My dog Dudley deserves a day of recognition. For his loyalty, sweetness, constancy, his Frito-smelling toe-beans, the quietly derpy look on his face, and his endless neediness. He's older and slightly mellower, but still gets very excited every time I select my pants for the day. He knows on sight which pants are Adventure Pants,... Continue Reading →
Meg Currell 