Washing up quick between courses on Christmas Eve. A voice by my side, my nearly 7 year old son, asking: 5 waters please, mommy. First thought: I’m out here washing up and being asked for something? Second thought: Who does he think he is making demands? Almost give a smirk, almost say: Do I look […]Read More 5 Waters Please, Mommy
I wrote the play because I didn’t know who I was anymore. And as I realized I didn’t know who I was anymore, I started to realize that I never knew, never had a clue as to who I was. What I had were facts. What I had were feelings, ways of feeling, that I […]Read More Why I wrote I Am Not an Allegory
Getting out the door is a hassle. If you’re a parent to a small child, and you find yourself, for any reason, having to leave the house, you know what I’m talking about. A friend once told me that her sister in law took her newborn daughter out of the house a sum total of […]Read More let us run like feral cats through the diminishing wilderness
It was a hot morning, blossoming into an even hotter, muggier day. I didn’t want to go to work, but was pulling it together. My son didn’t want to go to camp, but was not quite managing it. I’d let him watch it an ipad show at breakfast, so that was the first sign of […]Read More Massive Morning Mess
Coming up I knew I wanted to be a writer. I wrote all the time. When I wasn’t writing I was reading. I read lots and lots of Henry Miller, finding in him a reflection of myself. In Black Spring, the various Tropics, and the Rosy Crucifixion Trilogy, it felt like the voice in which […]Read More Narrative Female Sex
Apparently my kid is a handful. He spent a week with his Grammy and his Gramps in New England, and Dave and I went to pick him up at the end of the week. They’re pretty crazy about him, and enjoyed having him around, which makes me endlessly happy and grateful. But keeping up with […]Read More My kid is a handful
Before I had a son, I would see these moms in stores. The moms would be pushing a cart perhaps, or maybe just waiting in line at a ice cream shop, and the kid would ask some question. Kid What kind of ice cream is that? The mom wouldn’t answer, would instead close her eyes […]Read More The kid asks questions like it’s his job.