Anger, fear, hope…and meat allergy ticks

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Hoo boy, this week. (If I’m being honest- this year.) I’m having an increasingly hard time living in the reality of the Actual World and its increasingly terrible headlines. The Philando Castile verdict. (But nope, not about race.)  The 17 year-old Muslim girl killed in Virginia. (But nope, not a hate crime.) And God, even when I try to take a breather and keep it “lighter?” There’s the Larsen C crack in Antarctica (hope you like your sea levels a {Read More}

Suzy, (soon-to-be) off in the world.

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Guys, Susannah is graduating from preschool today. I know, I know, aren’t preschool graduations pretty much the dregs of a Participation Trophy Society? If that’s how early it starts, then when does it end? (…Never. I’m pretty sure the answer is “never.”) That said… It took the ramping up to a pre-k graduation to make me realize one incredibly important thing: Susannah’s not going to be in preschool next year. I know, I know. But- you know? She’s always been {Read More}

Want to help Syrian refugee babies? Do this.

Photo credit: Heroic Hearts Organization

I’ve been looking at baby pictures lately. This isn’t wholly unusual, but it definitely ramps up as we hit new milestones (lost teeth!) or fall back on old frustrations (remember when sucking her thumb was cute?) or, really, any time I have feelings about life and love and loss and worry. Like I said, I’ve been looking at baby pictures lately. I delivered all three of my babies in a wonderful hospital in a major city with a skilled surgeon {Read More}

Two years.

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Hi, Dad. It’s been two years since you died. It’s weird; typing “died” feels so harsh, so final. Like it’s rude to acknowledge it in that word. But I’m not feeling particularly fanciful, so neither “passed on” nor “departed” or “shuffled off” are words that feel right to me today. Honestly, using “died” doesn’t feel right to me either, on a number of levels. I know I don’t have to over-explain this one; I never had to with you, pretty much {Read More}

To my Auntie Joan, who showed me how to “treasure.”

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If there’s anything that my Auntie Joan taught me, it’s that collections can be become treasures. Treasures can become household-defining. And, when passed on to the right person, the whole shebang becomes elevated beyond a group of tchotchkes to a mantel (or room) worth of heirlooms that make your heart sing. How else to explain my fierce adoration of the whimsical pewter animals- some with startled expressions- gracing my desk? Or the teacups, so many teacups, from her travels across {Read More}

What I know/what I have to believe/what I have to do

I almost posted this yesterday. I almost deleted it five times. I almost started it with a phrase like, “Okie doke, America, you wanted a non-politician? Congrats- you got one. Good luck landing that jet.” But I didn’t. Because a) it would seem like sour grapes and b) mixing metaphors is borderline inexcusable. (Although the bar for “borderline inexcusable” has been set real, real low. Hey-o!) No, but seriously, what the actual fuck. No, I didn’t mean to write that. Okay, {Read More}

Yes #blacklivesmatter. No more #thoughtsandprayers.

Just FYI: I had planned on posting a picture of Nora’s new turquoise hair because= summer and fun and life, you know? (And I still might, because it’s downright incredible.) And while her hair and her face and the life I enjoy with these tiny people buoys me up even in the darkest of feelings, my heart hurts today for the horrific, unfathomable killing of Black folks at the hands of police. It’s not new, although some are way-too recent, but it {Read More}

Sitting vigil on the internet.

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I had a whole post ready to go for today. About senseless violence and targeted minorities and lax gun measures and horrific election reactions and about one sweet baby boy and his immeasurably grieving parents. And I couldn’t finish it. More often than not it feels like I’m sitting vigil with my ever-refreshing news feeds; click, scroll, cry, panic, rinse, repeat. Plus, let’s be honest. Absolutely no one in the world needs my feelings (in 800 word diatribe form) about senseless {Read More}