Boulders stretch further than my eyesight. It is something to behold. Me and hearts and people climbing, bouncing from rock to rock. I sit o...

I perch on the doorway between who I was and what I am to become. The crystal, wrapped in rabbit fur and rivets, leather and braiding, ha...

Three years ago, I gave birth to a live kicking baby. I was in awe, mesmerized at his mere survival in my womb of death. My sister and I al...

There is nearly a lake in the center of the parking lot that my daughter insists I drive through. Why do we have a big truck, she asks, if ...

My midlife crisis is going well. Thank you very much. Painting by Hector Arrache. To be honest, crises rarely go well at all. I haven...

Less is more. More kills everything. Think delicacy. Subtlety. Finesse. I don't know HOW to do less , I think. But of course, it i...

I cut hearts out of paper, and string them together for the children. Parenting is nothing like I thought it would be. Demanding and challen...

There is the physical act of gathering the names. From my email, and FB posts, and forum on Glow. I gather and write them out, with real na...

I cut and pasted my entire blog into Word. Just the cutting and pasting part took a half an hour or so. When I was done, I saved it, and an ...

You come too dark these days. Without my glasses you look like night. The baby bridges Sam and I, kicks me in the shoulder and I crawl into ...