In Draft and Blogworthy

The following projects are in draft for some future use or offered as a part of my evolving processes:

Death and Taxes – a few thoughts

Everything was mellow. My conscience was satisfied with itself. Several days passed before I learned differently. My awakened self had a meeting apparently, in some dark alleyway with unconscious self, and the hidden, the undercurrent, the shadow won the tussle. It was quick and it was a silent battle, as I had no idea what they were up to. It is possible the two of those selves are practicing schizophrenics. If they had known, my children would have rolled their eyes.

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Selling Horse Meat

"When I was in jail," Marilee said, as though it were no big deal, "I learned to wash my clothes and our dishes using chips of soap, wiping them with a sanitary pad, our very best dish-washing tool. It's hard to take care of yourself and keep clean. You can't just get new underwear, or even wash what you have whenever you like.” She added. ‘We each had assigned chores. Mine was the food cart twice a day.”

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Finding the Mothers

Lately I have been conjuring up my foremothers out of the deep cauldron of childhood memories. As I begin to think about passing along some Mother-full wisdom, possibly some grandmotherly advice, I realized how little I have stored in my memory's safe deposit vault. Was I not paying attention? Had they not passed it along? Were my lessons, my examples, my modeling buried under the sludge of time past?

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Short Older Lady with Gray Hair

Red found me in the coffee shop midweek, after looking for me for a couple of days, days during which I was out of town. He had needed an introduction that I could easily make for him. The problem was, I was nowhere to be found, so he fretted, and he wandered around on a search. He is perhaps in his twenties, I suppose, or possibly 18, or 35, and had quickly become a regular at my favorite coffee shop after moving nearby two months ago. I had gone out of town, and had turned off the phone, enjoying the freedom that comes from cellular escape. It was Wednesday before we chanced to meet and he told me about his search.

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The best gifts came without wrapping. It is for those, the rough jewels, that I am giving thanks, today

It looks like this. I meet people, here there and everywhere, and some of them stay to be a part of my life for a period of time; for a long time, or short, it doesn't really matter, as they are my fellows, and we accompany each other along a journey. These are the gift-carriers, the three kings bringing unintended consequences that were both unearned and undeserved.

Read more: Thanksgiving

Paying the Price of Admission

I lay in bed at night, thinking. I sleep when I am reading. I get drowsy when I work at my computer.

I wonder if I am wired backwards, somehow caught in a loop that runs in reverse. I sit for hours in front of my laptop screen, and then drive myself to exercise. I worry about my adult children, but never as much as when Iam with them, which is when my worry hits a zenith. I do not wonder if I am sane, so much as I wonder how far off the bubble I would measure, if tested. So far, no testing.

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Across a year spanning 2010-2011, I developed a series of stories/essays which chronicled some of my experiences.

This was compiled into a self-published draft entitled: Leafcutting: ONE WOMAN'S JOURNEY THROUGH AN ORDINARY, EXTRAORDINARY YEAR. Excerpts of this book are included in articles here.