Here

Here necklaces hang on door knobs and music plays on a CD in the kitchen. Potatoes bake in the oven and I can smell that I used too much olive oil, and some ran off the pan that's going to be a mess to clean up that I'll forget about the next many times I cook something.

The boys school their younger brother about Kid Jail. "Yeah, Juvie, yeah, see." "They make you eat really gross food."

"I heard you have to eat chili every day."

I place a threat with my eyes. If you throw another paper airplane at my neck I swear I'm going Google the closest kid jail, dude. 


And what is it with little boys and the incessant need to hit their mom on the butt?


I got my bloodwork results back a few days ago and they were normal.

This is where I write a bunch of serious things about how I'm doing and what I'm feeling and about treatment and my faith, about being broken while pretending not to be (and however then could I -we- be fixed when we do that), but then I cut and pasted it somewhere for maybe later, because I just can't go there right now.

What if I look foolish, what if I misrepresent, for saying what I said. But if I can't write the truth about my life

I will not write at all.

Maybe later when I'm ready.


Lately I've been wishing for more than what we have here. For the first time I'm antsy, not as content as I've always been in this tiny house this town. I need more space, more rooms, more places to put stuff.

With a view.

I want windows lots of windows and a breathtaking view. Out in the country. Trees, or at least one, you know the one that reaches with hands and shades and gives you something to write about. Something to look at, sky anything. But a good drive will do, for now, we don't have to go far, we pass trees and beach and stretch and land and then we are back home to here

and it really is more than okay.

linked up - just write

Sand in my pocket

There's still sand in my pocket and in my shoes.

Twinsies.

We spent the day with Mommal, to get her nails done, to lunch, to the lake, and to Poppal's grave. We take a rock to him every time we go. It was one of his favorite places. And all the rocks from before are still there. Even the one with googly eyes.

She shadow danced at the nail place.

She ran with arms out like wings.

She drew hearts in the sand.

She claimed that the water was going to wash all the winter away.

And I believed her.

Let's go down to the mermaid cafe

"Let's stay here forever," she said.

We had made a tent out of a quilt on top of my bed, and hid inside, light from the window made all my favorite colors. And her words meant the world. And that she said them right then, there was no doubt she was just like me.

One day Ivy came up to me so sad, with bottom lip out and she said, "Mom, I really wish I were a mermaid."

So I knit her a tail and she wore it to bed, and she even wore it to grandma's. And earlier when she brushed her teeth the fin peeked out from around the bathroom door.

She learned to walk up and down the stairs, holding the tail beside her. If you want anything bad enough, you figure out a way.

Did you know how many things you can make and spell with party beads?

Knitting pattern- "splash" from New Knits on the Block