It occurred to me this afternoon that, as of this month, I’ve been back in Nashville for seven years. That’s just six months shy of my time in Memphis. I still get pangs of homesickness for Memphis, and the friends I left there. I suspect I always will. Things have changed so much in my life since arriving in 2012. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s been absolutely for the best. I’m so grateful. My…
Tonight I was leaving work and taking the stairs because the elevator is out, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the stairwell window. And I was sort of taken aback by the sight of myself — my hair is long, suddenly; I’m in long sleeves, suddenly; I wear glasses, suddenly, except I have for so very long now and have yet to get used to the idea — and the sight made me happy…
You know that thing where people write their past selves a letter? Sometimes I think about doing that, and it would be sassy and start off with something like “You think things are going to get less complicated, girly? Well, think again!” Except it would have to end there because Present Me has no real wisdom to impart to Past Me, except maybe try to be nicer, because apparently I am an asshole. This blog…
She can be cold and she can make you sweat one hell of an existential sweat, but she will come through at the right time with the right hook to keep you turning the page.
They call it a wardrobe because every day you just have to get in there and do battle.
Thirtysomething female in natural habitat, from unflattering angle One of the ways in which you can pinpoint the source of my DNA is my weak chin/double chin. This thing torments me. It’s particularly annoying when I’m overweight (as I am now and, uh, have more or less always been) because I can feel fat snuggling my neck like a skin turtleneck. Ew, I just grossed myself out. Anyway, this chin has ancient origins, I’m sure,…
This life springs people and circumstances into your orbit you must evaluate and categorize carefully should they prove useful or harmful or worth more time than you initially thought. Or less. It is the waiting to find out which shelf to put you on that I have little patience for. My brain fancies itself a label-maker, one of those crude punch-letter contraptions, and it is constantly wanting to slap an explanatory strip on everything, and…
It’s 10 p.m. and I’m sitting at a blue plastic table, sipping a canned Coke. I’m surrounded by banks of whirring silver washing machines, and I’ve figured out that by sitting at this table, I can feel the blasts of cold air from the AC. It’s a nice counter to the heat radiating off all these dryers. This is the Wash Tub Coin Laundry, open 25 hours, according to a sign on the side of…
I look at Holden and I still cannot believe he is here. That he is so beautiful and so sweet and so smiley and so ours. It is amazing and heartbreaking all at once to know how differently things could have gone, how he could have not ever come into my life. I read a blog by a local woman who has been trying for years to have a baby — I’m talking multiple rounds…
I’m stealing a moment or two from the day to sit down and write, something I have less and less time for as the time marches onward. In a little bit I’ll head out to my eye doctor’s office for my annual prodding. It is a rare event when I go a full year without any degeneration of my sight; this year I’m feeling lucky and I think I might even get my glasses prescription…
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