tea
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I Get Anxious
My husband says I’m a delicate flower, and while, yeah, that’s true, it’s not all that’s true. I have anxiety. I have PTSD. I have issues. This is not a case of disease-or-malady-of-the-week, a la celiac wannabees, or whatever Madison Avenue tells us this month is wrong with us (You need oat bran! You need Vitamin E! You need aloe!). I really, really get anxious. I take a little pill each morning which cuts out the crazy part of anxiety — the part that screams all day long in my ear WE’RE DOOMED. YOU F*CKED UP AGAIN. EVERYONE HATES YOU. DIE DIE DIE. And for this, I am truly grateful to…
- appreciation, Catching Up, gratitude, indie pub, My World and Welcome to It, novel, poetry, random, tea, work, writing
What I’ve learned: Publishing and the march of times
When I was in my twenties and reading voraciously and spewing poetry on the page like a hydrant hit by a drunk driver, I wanted to get published more than I wanted a happy marriage, a suburban house and 2.5 children. In fact, I didn’t have a happy marriage, although we did get that house, and three whole children; my desire to be published outlasted everything but the children, who are grown up and doing very well on their own now; thanks for asking. I subscribed to Writers Digest and Byline Magazine, and kept a journal and wrote every single day, if I could, if I didn’t have sick babies…
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On the Road: How 10 of My Readings Went Wrong
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Notes from the Poor House
Well, it’s a tough scene, but this is the scoop. Mr Husband is out of work on disability while we wait for back surgery, and a layoff shimmers on the horizon after that. We’re moving very quickly to a smaller, cheaper house (apartment, really) and have been packing, sorting and donating carloads of stuff. Cash flow sucks. I’m both trying to earn more as a freelancer while trying to move us single-handedly. So it looks like all that fun stuff on the June Food Stamp Challenge of a year and a half ago will come in handy…Just thinking about some of the techniques (if they can be termed as such)…
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A Day of Grace (Part II)
I’ll be as nice as I can here, but the fact is I’m in such a foul mood. Really super-cranky. Not eating, or eating very little, all day will do that. I’ve also had a day of ups and downs emotionally. I find that by now, 6 p.m., almost dinner time, I am at the end of my rope, with no tolerance for nonsense; I am not concentrating well (I can’t think of the right word here, for example, so I’m just rewriting the sentence, and that keeps happening, and is frustrating as hell). Reader’s Digest version: hunger not good. Everything that Tony the Tiger told you about eating a…
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The Longest Night
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BBQ and the Beast
Did you ever see such a happy hostess? No? I didn’t think so. Speaking to you live from Party HQ, where the Father’s Day BBQ adventure is winding down. Well, it’s done, actually. All guests gone, all dishes washed, and all food accounted for. Well, there I am in my pink flamingo apron, clutching my bar stool for dear life as I wonder if there will be enough food or too much, and if people will come, chat, behave, and then leave before bedtime. The answer to all of the above was, I’m glad to report, a resounding yes. Yes, folks came, had fun and left, and there was enough…
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The Longest Night
