writing on the prairie

Last week, Jen and I were in the panhandle of Nebraska, which is the Northwestern corner, almost Wyoming or South Dakota. She was there on an instructorship, me on a scholarship, and I tell you, it felt like being celebrities. Although I suppose everywhere we go together, her and me, it feels like that. We... Continue Reading →

solving our riddles

If sadness is contagious--and I think maybe it is--I'm afraid I gave it to my son. Often people who aren't sad think the people who are sad are only that way because of things that happened to them. That because of horrible things, they are sad. And sometimes, maybe that's true. But also, there is... Continue Reading →


I was not rebelling by smoking dope or drinking, I was testing ideas. I was experimenting with voice, what I could say and still be heard in an atmosphere of prescribed truths. I remember the first time I questioned something I heard at church out loud. I must've been around twelve. I remember the answer... Continue Reading →

Bucket Filling

"Mom, you're filling my bucket," Brandon said, after I told him how smart he is, how proud I am to be his mother. "What does that mean?" I asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear him say it. "Everybody has an invisible bucket," he began, "and when you compliment someone or do nice things... Continue Reading →

Leaking into Everyone Else

To become a mother is to die to oneself in some essential way. After I had children I was no longer an individual separate from other individuals. I leaked into everyone else. When I try to talk about mothering, about how it is a part of me but not all of me, I can't do... Continue Reading →

9 years a blogger

After nine years, I decided it was high time I updated my website. I considered hiring a designer to do it for me. But then, I would be constantly emailing and raising concerns, little nit-picky ones, so I decided, fuck it, I am an independent woman. I can do it myself. Of course, I always... Continue Reading →

treading water

It is the week of Mother's Day and you know what that means:liquor store runs piecing together puzzles at my dining room table to keep my hands busymaking plans with people, even though I'm an introvert and the noise of crowds and the pressure of conversation aggravates me because I'm afraid to be alone, afraid to curl... Continue Reading →

it would be easier if

Most misfits struggle against the story that's expected of them. You know, the cultural scripts of good citizenship that come at us in life: how to be a woman, how to be a man, how to be successful at jobs/relationships/life, how to be happy, how to love, how to marry, how to fit into society.... Continue Reading →

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