Memoirous

A few days off in the middle of the week, in mid-Winter I work at a very popular shoe store, performance wear, aka running/walking/trail shoes. But, even we have slow periods. So more time off. I wake up under the eaves of my Tiny House—sometimes my nose is cold and sometimes my sleeping body heat has warmed the upstairs. It is incredibly cozy lying under blankets on a soft pillow in the half light of a winter morning. This a.m. it was a little hard to get out of bed, I wanted to stay forever in that netherworld of dream, but . . . Day called. Most mornings, nature calls. I quickly climb down from my loft bed on a sturdy oak ladder specially built for me and the Tiny House. Next is a series of actions not in any particular order: Visit the composting toilet, screened off in a corner Change out of fleece sleep slippers into lamb’s wool Uggs Don a sweater or insulated shacket from Patagonia Switch on kettle, prep tea Pills—thyroid and Vitamin D Shovel That’s right. I go outside in ...

New Work Out: Centerpoint Actually this piece has BEEN out. I just didn’t know it. Someone at work was asking about my new book, Woman of a Certain Age, a story collection, and I said let me show you my website. I googled my name and up popped the piece, published online in Third Wednesday. Okay, that’s a surprise. I’d submitted it in November and it was taken soon after. I just had gotten so busy with holiday rush that I hadn’t checked my Submittable dashboard to see it had been accepted. Sheesh. Anyway, I’m linking to it now and will soon get it up under Other Writing. A pleasant surprise and acknowledgement that 2025 had truly been a fruitful year. Now as I take time to think ahead to 2026: I have a lot of work to do to raise to the level of 12 ACCEPTANCES IN ONE YEAR!! I have to start cracking on writing new stuff and submitting. Maybe time for another collection . . . hmm. Keep tuned—book launch for Woman of a Certain Age to be announced.

The more things change, the more they stay the same: Happy MLK Day This is more musing than scholarly: The more things change, the more they stay the same. Sixty years ago, in the midst of the Civil Rights Movement, was a surge of public engagement in the most basic rights for fellow human beings, Americans pushed to the margins. In the south particularly but everywhere, Black Americans were living under segregation. Martin Luther King Jr. acknowledged this and challenged the status quo—not without reprisal or the fear of death. He and his adherents, believers, did the right thing in standing up. As must we. But, he knew talk was cheap. In a talk delivered at Stanford in 1967 he credited advances that had been made (mostly under his leadership), but he said it wasn’t enough. He addressed the problem of Two Americas. One is living in sunny oblivion, unaware that a second America exists. It isn’t just about black or white, Black or White, but many Americans live in inequality, wi...

A creative nonfiction piece, commonly called The Essay—is out now! About a trip I took in 2007 to Albania, I know, no one goes to Albania. Albania is a weird mix of contradictions=cultural progress meets social mores, modernity butts up against resistance to change, hundreds of years of political upheaval. Versus. Versus. Turning towards. Against. Read No One Goes to Albania here :

So far this cold, cold season I’ve stayed warm in my Tiny House. It was still hot out and living in the converted outhouse was not quite out of the dream/aspirational stage—the sales guy came over to evaluate what I might possibly need to stay warm/cool in the various seasons. I’d met him through work, a mountain bike customer where when checking out at the register I asked about his sweatshirt logo and he told me he repped a heating/cooling company. “Can you come over and check out my Tiny House?” And, we exchanged details. Here he was, trying to decide what the heck I was contemplating. *was it properly insulated *the tile floors make for some cold mornings (was the understructure insulated) *was the roof just sheet wood and shingle These were all good questions. We knew—or at least he did—that Michigan winters were cold, long, unpredictable. He suggested a unit with 18K BTU: An 18,000 BTU ductless system (≈1.5 tons) is typically suited for 600–1,000 sq ft spaces...

“The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow”  “The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow" is a line from the famous Christmas poem, The Night Before Christmas . It’s an odd archaic, Victorian phrasing, but highly imaginative, top of mind last night as I walked home from work under a full-moonlit sky, the white orb casting long tripod shadows from the fir trees in the neighbor’s yards, spidery shadow webs of branches from the trees by the playground. There was the orange square glow of light coming from the front windows of houses—reflected upon the new-fallen snow. There’s always new-fallen snow, these days. The breast of new-fallen snow—is this some reference to the white bosom? Something about purity, something a man would write as an ideal? The ultimate in untouched beauty? The sacred body. A temple, undefiled. Supple, clean, comforting, giving succor. It was cold and I ran a little to keep warm. The crunch and squeak of snow beneath my boots. And, I thought of t...

This Christmas had it all—see last post, plus enterovirus, which I would not wish on my worst enemy. It has taken me days to feel better. To feel like even being around food. I finally settled into the occasional banana, the off-chance ramen (half the package). Then . . . I came home from work last night and was hungry. I didn’t know what to do. I needed more than ramen or a banana. So at 8 pm made a casserole. My brain said this is crazy and feels late and also necessary. It was interesting this sensation of actually wanting food. The varying facets of one’s relationship to food—I’d certainly run the gamut this holiday the big dinner the plates of cookies, cakes, pies Nothing even the specter of food being repulsive I threw leftover bread etc out into the snow for the birds and squirrels purged the fridge of almost everything—except a 12-pack of ramen, a bunch of bananas Suddenly peas sound good!? I never eat peas Hunger.