All right. Let me tell you about Honey. To know Honey you must know Jasper. Jasper was my dog of five years, through thick and thin until death did we part. A black Poodle mix with chocolate eyes and a soft, anxious heart. When I lost Jasper, I lost a piece of myself. Ready to […]
I think it’s important to share with you a bit of my personal theology. (And a bit of my love for etymology at the same time.) The word “spirit” shares root with “breath(e)” which isn’t as obvious in English as it is in Spanish’s “respirar” or the cognate “respiration.” But we see it in word’s
We are well into spring, it seems. Small patches of snow and a few crunchy puddles tell me I need to document last season’s nectar list before I forget what they were. This winter, though miserable and cold, was too short for me. It could have gone on for ages longer. Springtime is planting and
It is currently the dead of winter, also known as the middle of March. Today, I find myself snowed in, lazily crocheting with my phone in the other room. Slowly collecting fiscal documents to file taxes next month. Sipping hot coffee and eating fresh fruit. I’ve been doing my best to rest during this long
I’m sick as a dog (again). My nose is running like a tap; and my head feels like a balloon has been inflated inside me, expanding under my cheeks and also between my teeth and out my eyes. My kneecaps are achy and my back is sore. I’d like to tell you that I’m miserable
Things have a funny way of working out sometimes. I guess what I’m trying to say is that despite the math and the calculations, I haven’t starved to death. And I haven’t missed a bill or payment. (Well, except the one month I did forget and racked up a few Hamilton’s worth of interest and
I ran into my friend at the laundromat the other day. She switched back to Tide detergent. Temporarily. With a lot of guilt and yucky feeling about it. She usually smells like a mix of sweet lavender laundry soap and patchouli and a gentle wood stove. I confessed to her that I had just bleached
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As far as I know, it’s still autumn–according to the calendar. According to both the thermometer and my icy cold extremities, it’s surely winter. Which means, it’s as good a time as any to sip on the juicy sweetness of my autumn nectar list.
Summertime is, by default, my favorite season. Not necessarily because I prefer it, but because my extremities are inclined to numbness during the three other seasons. I love the heat. I love my cut-off Levi’s that are held together by a couple iron on patches and several fervent prayers. I love a sundress and being
About a month ago, I learned how to change my oil. I was very patiently taught. Very kindly guided. Tools were provided, my actions were spotted, and I was surrounded by a team of grown-up adult supporters who handed me both tools and advice as needed. A week ago, I thought I’d change some oil