VerySo

Pre-divorce we had a refrigerator that could accommodate Costco trips and it had a water and ice dispenser in the door- crushed or whole. Sometimes I miss that part of that life, but not really. I was just thinking about it today with my hands deep in a bag of party size ice from the store. I transfer it into ziplocks to keep in the freezer on these hot weather stretches. The cold on my hands feels good and powerful and I like to fill my hands with as many cubes as I can. I store the rest in the mini fridge on the back porch that sometimes houses leftovers and the kids’ energy drinks     they think they’re sneaking in.   It’s Sunday night and I feel a sense of boredom. I feel like the further I get away from writing, the things distracting me start to lose their luster. That’s the only way I can explain why I get drawn back here.  The cobwebs need attention and then I remember oh, they actually have a purpose. It’s not that I forgot but it’s just not what I originally learned and why i

I am not good at keeping in touch   It’s like I have no control over this  I know  the requirement, to take part in the give and take  and that it is all my taking I can give, I am able, but it’s limited-ish?  Is what I’m trying to say.  And it’s like how I sleep sometimes I’m a turn away-er, I do it in my sleep unaware that I’m turning my back to my love it’s the way I move naturally through this atmosphere I turn  I am a rotater I do not stay still  And as I turn the lid closes behind me The lid from me to you  The draw bridge   and I do not turn to face it or try to lift or jump across. I don’t even think about it I don’t see it  I curl up, curl in  sleep It’s how my axis skews The access to me to you  I’ve tried so hard to be the one who initiates the keeping in touch.  I bought regular stamps and post card stamps and lots of notecards. They are right where I can see them but there is no will from my thought to my brain to putting the pen to paper or for even composing a simple tex

To say I’ve been on edge Is not accurate just like I’m not entirely sure where the edges are in the first place     Or maybe it’s that I know I’m on the edge but I can’t see far enough to know how much room is left before I fall right off?  And how far down to the bottom anyway? I mean for all I know I’m two inches off the ground. My heart does not know the difference.  What is that? Losing my grip? Of something I shouldn’t be holding onto anyway? Today was dragging. Mondays I’m usually more upbeat but today I wasn’t and I just know it was noticeable and I hate that. But as I’ve set my compass toward being real and not faking my life anymore I’m less likely to try to hide when I’m just not feeling it. I need to get used to this “bad” feeling when I stick up for myself and can not wait for it to not feel like this someday, for me to feel like this is more me. To forget I was ever even like that.  I came right outside when I got home and watered my plants (something *for me* that also me

I’m still writing every day even if it’s not here. I decided I should let myself have days off posting and then that snowballed. But that’s what I needed and I leaned in.   I’m tired of thinking about what I want to be when I grow up. Ugh. What do I want to be in my *off time* when I grow up? What do I want to do after I get home from my job? I want there to be nature and fresh air and sky and quiet, stillness that has a rhythm. I want there to be nights of no plans, of just whatever.   I got home today and went immediately to the stove to get my pans heated for tacos and grilled veggies and rice. I poured myself an icy drink and put on a playlist and got it done, and all the toppings! And I unloaded the dishwasher and the sink is currently empty. (Note: 90% of the time Noah does all the dishes and this is only exaggerating in the way that he probably does them more often than that.) So I felt extra good for doing that so he didn’t have to!  Now I’m doing what I want to do. Stretched o

Yesterday, Memorial Day, I was sorting through some boxes in the garage, trying to make room at some point for the little VW bug Carter recently brought home to work on. I was hoping to have gone through all of this by now, but 5 years is how long it’s taken me to face some of these bins. Feels like a milestone, 5 years of healing. A stray dog came and found me standing there with the garage door open, and I spent the next 30 minutes corralling her away from our busy road and reuniting her with very worried owners. Her name is Riley and she was a a rescue, too. My goal is to go through at least one box a day. The emotional energy it takes definitely surprised me. Also, why oh why do we hang on to so much stuff? See previous sentence. Most of it’s trash now sadly, embarrassingly. But then I come across something boxed willy nilly among items I was about to toss… the first dress I bought for Ivy from Butterfly Kisses when I was pregnant with her. Kid notes in bright marker on lined paper

I just brought the soup to a boil and now have time to simmer while it simmers. So far we’ve scootched the couch up closer to the tv for Mario Kart & a 90’s Spotify playlist, or to catch up on Jeopardy or old SNL or I’ve been listening to Molly Shannon’s memoir on Audible while I play a game on my phone, legs stretched out on the couch with my poochie by my side. Being able to feel the pause when you’re actually really paused is a special kind of ecstasy. It’s an announcement that you’re in the moment without taking yourself out of the moment. You can stay right where you are, no worries of slipping, you’re safe and ready for this moment because you’re stronger now, see? Everything feels easy right now because I planned ahead so that I could make it feel easy. But the fact that I had the energy to plan anything at all — is huge. Is yay. Is a quest to how can I keep this momentum going? The windows and doors are opening up and good weather is outside, too? The windows and doors open