I am of the era that wore/wears a watch. Much as I love technology, I don’t depend on my phone for the time. After all, a watch is an accoutrement of fashion, one I feel half-dressed without. Currently, I have four. I wear them because they are fun and pretty, and if I’m being honest,
A Writer's Life
Hello again. It’s been long time.
Much has happened since last we met, oh say, almost two years ago! I’ll blame a larger percentage of my blogging derailment on a career change. I was finally, after years of applying, give an opportunity to teach college English which turned out to be all-consuming. As of January 1st, however, I was offered a
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A Writer's Life
Writing with Abandon
One of my first assignments this term for my MFA lyric essay class is to keep a weekly journal. Despite my love of writing and despite the purchase of all the cute journaling accoutrements—colored pens, journal with writerly mantra on the cover, and irresistible Etsy stickers—I have not, as yet, been able to discipline myself
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Christmas
Christmas Giving
When I was young, younger than I can remember, my dad bought my mother a beautiful gold charm bracelet. From then on, finding the perfect charm for a birthday or Christmas gift was a truly exciting moment for my brother and me. Each charm was special, and each was engraved with the date and our
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A Writer's Life
Sleep and the Writer’s Mind
All writers have experienced waking in the middle of the night with some of our best ideas. When that happens, we feel compelled to capture that inspiration before it floats away on a dream which is why many of us get so little sleep. It’s also why we keep small notebooks, cell phones, or even
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A Writer's Life
The Tao of Sailing
Today, I’m sailing from land, toes curling in the sand, beneath the shade of my beach umbrella while I watch a sailboat far away at sea. It’s been awhile since I last set foot on deck, but the experience of sailing somehow remains, things you don’t forget like the burble and splash of water against
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A Writer's Life
Her Affliction
I see them often when I run, three of them, a small family of two dogs and their mistress, walking in the sunshine. Today, they move slowly, hampered by the wagon the woman tows and the fact that the larger of the dogs is missing a front leg. They amble along the path by the
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Writing
The High Dive
I think I was around twelve when I decided that doing a backflip off the high dive would conquer my fear of leaping from the platform. Such a tactic was new for me as I am not impetuous and tend to shirk confrontation, but off the edge I leapt. It was hours before the red