Archive | November, 2014

Much to Be Thankful For

27 Nov

I have been thinking a lot about my grandmother lately. Something about this time of year and the comfort food that goes along with it makes me yearn for the smells and warmth of her kitchen. I rang in the cold season by making her hotdish just a couple of weeks ago. As I watched Child #2 eat it for the first time, I could feel her presence with us in the room.

I felt the same way last night, as I was making her classic Orange Jello Salad in preparation for our Thanksgiving feast. My grandma’s foods are such a staple in our holiday gatherings. Even though this is not our first round of holidays without her, it still feels unreal that she won’t be there with her nylons and holiday brooches on, ready to feed an army of 100.

The acute ache of missing my grandmother brings into sharp focus how very lucky I am to have the people in my life. I have the best family and friends a girl could ever ask for. I’ve come frighteningly close to losing some of them, so I do not take any day that they are in my life for granted. There are too many of these people to call out by name (another blessing), but you know who you are. I love you, and I am thankful for you all.

The path that Life takes us on may not always be as we planned. There will be unexpected losses, and tests of our limits. There will be struggles. It is not always easy to remember how very lucky I am. Today serves as a reminder of just that. Today as I watch the Thanksgiving Day Parade with my beautiful boys and watch them eat Grandma’s Jello, I know that I have much to be thankful for.

Happy Thanksgiving.



Don’t Date a Writer

18 Nov

Yet another piece that makes me curse Ali for having more talent in her pinky finger than I’ll ever have.


If you are looking for simple,
don’t date a writer. Don’t even
flirt with her. While you are talking,
she is considering
how you might look in a story,
or a poem,
or, possibly, in her bed. She analyzing
the metaphors in your smile,
the conjugated verbs
sprinkled in your laugh,
and the way your hands dance
in the air while you talk –
she is writing a story for those hands.

She will have bad days.
She will break dishes and cry
because failure feels like an adjective
for every incomplete sentence,
even though it’s the wrong part of speech –
her heart is always dangling
over a precipice, thoughts
wandering like a hurricane,
no one can swallow that –
but will you try, anyway?

If you are looking for simple,
marry a woman who won’t
wake you in the middle of the night,
full of desire and tequila…

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A Bit of Poetry

4 Nov

Let me preface this post by saying I am no poet. My efforts are small and pale in comparison to that of, say, Ali (@alwayscoffee). But, every now and again it’s fun to try my hand at it. These little ramblings are the product of some poetry exercises I did with my writing club at school. The inspiration for some of them actually came from the paint names on various paint chips. Maybe you can tell. Maybe you can’t. At any rate, I happened upon them when cleaning out a file the other day and figured it didn’t hurt to share.

I speak the language of riddles,
Hidden by silence,
Disguised as echoes,
Halfway between tomorrow and yesterday,
Lost for years among the shadows.

Not So Happily Ever After
She descends from her ivory tower,
Her bed of roses no longer a comfort.
“Lantana,” they whisper,
Velvet slipper disguising,
Ruby red lips smiling,
Bunchberry wine,
Poison, then gone.

Moon Shadow
The moon shadow chases, follows,
Like the song echo through a blue memory;
Still is the winter lake under this navy sky.
A blue spell it casts;
The cool dusk has turned,
From twilight’s melody to hazy dawn,
The Regatta Bay sings back,
And the moon shadow is no more.