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Sep 13

September 13, 2015

How is This Possible? Coincidences and Other Disasters

I spend a lot of my time howling the cosmic yawp into the blue beyond. It looks, to mortal eyes, like I’m making lunch and beating a deadline and running errands and remembering to put out the trash cans. But I assure you, a goodly portion of every day is given over to caterwauling (mostly in my inside voice but not always) on the WHY of everyday living. The WHY of how did we get here? The WHY of how…

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Sep 7

September 7, 2015

Shelf-Sitters Anonymous

First things first: Say “shelf-sitters” three times. Fast. Do it. You said self-shitters, didn’t you? You did. I know it. What is a shelf-sitter? It’s a term I have heard used only once in my life, but appropriated and used, at least in my mind, ever since. In third grade, Miss Ellis had a list of books we were to check out from the library on our once-weekly visit: An autobiography. A non-fiction book. A book about an animal. A…

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Aug 16

August 16, 2015

I Get Anxious

My husband says I’m a delicate flower, and while, yeah, that’s true, it’s not all that’s true. I have anxiety. I have PTSD. I have issues. This is not a case of disease-or-malady-of-the-week, a la celiac wannabees, or whatever Madison Avenue tells us this month is wrong with us (You need oat bran! You need Vitamin E! You need aloe!). I really, really get anxious. I take a little pill each morning which cuts out the crazy part of anxiety…

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Aug 9

August 9, 2015

Writing as Though I Had Wings

I’ve come to that cross-road in a writer’s life where she has to choose between writing what she wants and writing what earns her bread. It might even be one of those modern five-way stoplights where several roads merge and one must decide whether to turn gently to the right, to join the path ahead, or — most alarming of all — veer to the left and go against the traffic, hoping for a break in the rush to slip…

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Jul 12

July 12, 2015

Don’t think it strange —

I’ve been on the hunt for a fountain pen. I had one around here somewhere, I swear, but of course it’s gone, like the rest of my mind when I want to find something. I am the proud owner of not just one, but two feather quills with filigree silver points, but I don’t exactly want that kind of ink experience. Somewhere, back in the beyond, I once owned a Montblanc pen, not top of the line, but a fine…

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