Dear Readers, today I’m excited to tell you that I have posted, for the first time ever, a guest blog post. And who was it that was so kind as to ask me to stop by her blog? The always supportive, always thoughtful, Cheila at Pink for Days! When I got back into blogging after
The Streets Are Alive I’ve pushed myself further still. I got to this street yesterday evening which seemed just a step too far, or, should I say, a street too far? I’ve come to feel that streets have personalities. They have moods. This is a neighborhood built in the 1970s; these streets are not empty
I’ve been paying attention to my mind a lot lately. What I mean is that I’ve been listening to the things that my brain says, and I’ve been asking questions and demanding answers.
For you to understand what the heck I’m talking about, I’ll give you an example from as recently as this morning.
Me: So how’s your day going? You tired? Did you eat well here or no? The Fly: Humans have no idea just how filthy their houses are. I’ll be living out the rest of my life here, Lady. Your house is a paradise. Me: How come you aren’t in the kitchen with the other flies?
This afternoon my daughter’s 3rd grade teacher called me personally to tell me how proud she was of my daughter’s progress this year, and the progress that they made as a class. As a mom and teacher, I appreciate this. When I informed her that she was with her father this week, and that I
One of my favorite things about putting an outfit together is creating something that is uniquely mine. I love to have fun with clothes. That’s the point of us not all walking around in uniforms, right? So, if we’ve decided as a society that clothes should be a reflection, then I plan on running
Not long ago, I shared that I had gone to the used bookstore and brought home a new bundle of book babies. They’ve been getting cozy, and now I’d like to show them to you all. I have one or two copies of Robinson Crusoe already, but I couldn’t resist the raised texture of the
The clouds sit heavily under the hidden sky. The past two days have been on and off rain, sometimes a downpour, sometimes a drizzle. There have been few precious hours of dryness. It is, after all, the rainy season. Yesterday, Saturday, I missed my opportunity for a morning bike ride and I was bummed. Thankfully,
I’m a sporadic sort. Flighty, inconsistent, unreliable. I’m a free-spirit damn it! I’m not ashamed of it, but I am often ashamed of the consequences of it. When it comes to my failures at being a lady, the thing that shows my inconsistency more than anything else is probably the condition of my nails.
I want to scream. I’m standing in the kitchen next to my mom who’s fixing me a plate. She’s taking forever, as usual