How to Lose a Grown-Ass Woman in Ten Steps Dating in midlife is anything but easy; many women find themselves in quite a quandary when they jump in, only to realize some prospective partners still live like teenagers. I thought it might be good to warn you in advance so you don't waste as much time as I did! The following scenarios bear a striking resemblance to some real-life events; ... Read More
My Top Ten Commandments
1. Thou shalt have pie in times of stress. Locally I'm partial to The Upper Crust, and I've never been disappointed. My favorite is their strawberry rhubarb, but today I tried bumbleberry (a mixture of blueberries, blackberries, raspberries, & apples) and I might be hooked. I don't believe in diets, but I do believe in moderation. I love pie, so hence this is the first of my top ten ... Read More
We Grew Up in a Really Small Town.
It is 6:00 and I'm making dinner. My youngest is whining and refusing to eat (no surprise) and she needs a bath. Her older sisters are outside in the backyard jumping on our trampoline with five or six other neighborhood kids. Twenty-two shoes, a million inside out socks, along with sippy cups, empty bags of chips, a bottle of bubbles, a sweatshirt, two hula hoops, a water gun, and a princess ... Read More
A Horse, Stories, and a Commitment.
I didn't have to speak; the mare read the stories in my eyes and she just knew. I fed her carrots and we talked without words while the sun set over the Kansas sky. She sensed my struggles: stressful situations with the kids, a recent breakup, my scary basement, taxes, anxiety over several things beyond my control, and the general malaise and feeling of failure caused by parenting. I was ... Read More
The Treasures I’ll Keep
I'll keep the catheter you traveled to my uterus in as tiny baby blastocysts. The locks of your soft hair from the first time we cut it as you cried and squirmed and revolted. I will keep your baby bracelets you wore in the hospital and all of mine, too. I will keep your tiny teeth in Ziploc bags in a wooden box, each one labeled with a name and a date so I can keep them all straight. I keep ... Read More
This is 41
Forty-one looks messy. Forty-one looks like learning to ask for what I need. It looks like acknowledging the little girl part of me--who is angry, sad, jealous, stomping her foot-- and telling her, "It's okay, I'm 41, I've got this." Forty-one looks like fighting to be anti-racist, but still screwing up and being fragile. It looks like a compass, searching for the right direction, constantly ... Read More
