Pure Michigan

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Old Hat

From the Laundry Room

I have a big head.

It’s something like 7 7/8, which is a ridiculous size for a female. When I was little my mom used to tell me it was because of my big brain. Yeah, she’s always been a glass-half-full kind of mom.

I don’t look odd, in fact it looks the size of a normal head in pictures.  At least I think it does, but upon measurement, the thing is huge. This means I can’t easily find hats or baseball caps. I have to shop online at the big head stores.

Size is weird. For guys it’s . . . well, let’s not even go there. For women big is rarely a good thing.

I’ve never liked having a big head because it’s an inconvenience and it makes me different. I want to be able to hide my bad hair under a cute baseball cap just like every other mom. I…

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Front Porch Kickoff, 2016

Scrambled, Not Fried

October 2015 frontFew things please a writer more than a quick turnaround on submitted work, especially when the response is an acceptance for publication. I am, therefore, very happy to have received a 3-day acceptance from Glen Phillips, publisher of Front Porch Review.

My poem, Disappearance, will appear in the January issue!  I’ll let you know when it’s up. Meanwhile, any previous issuewould be well worth your reading time.  

This will be my 3rd appearance at FPR. If you’re interested, you can read the previous appearances here:

Cold Snap(January, 2014)
On A Wire (April, 2011)

I can only hope the rest of my year is as productive and successful as this.

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Yellow Blanket

From the Laundry Room

My friend calls her happy place “Yellow”.

It’s become a bit of a catchword for us, she even bought me yellow mittens for Christmas this year. Yellow is warmth in the midst of cold, peace in the middle of a shit storm, it’s the happy.

Jinger is my friend and a few days a week, she’s also my spin teacher, which creates a bit of a love hate thing. She’s my sweaty sage, so mostly I love her. She makes me think, look at myself and work for better, which ironically rarely has anything to do with my body.

Her stories/sermons are probably all just a ploy, a distraction so I won’t realize I’m dying. Whatever it is, she’s the best and some days it’s like moving story time.

One of her stories is about being a little girl, long blonde braids, sitting in the cab of the family truck with her brother and her mom and . . …

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Tumble

From the Laundry Room

It’s been windy all day, really windy.

I think the wind is mother nature’s voice. Most of the time she takes it, she’s silent, occasionally she rains, but there are times she needs to speak. Let it out.

Wind is the way she puts us all in our place. When things are blowing around and it’s hard to stand still, we tend to pay attention. Wind messes up our hair, makes noise. There’s a push to it, a recklessness, that I love.

It’s interesting that it’s windy the day after Christmas. Kind of one of those moments when a crazy relative whips the tablecloth off and all the fancy stuff goes flying. I don’t have any tablecloth relatives, I mean we’re all a little touched, but not quite tablecloth.

Wind right after Christmas feels like that, a tablecloth sweep. Glitter flying, a clearing of the space.

Yesterday was family, food, warm cozy fun, but the new…

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My heart is breaking

Source: My heart is breaking

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1. – An essay I read at the Trans Spectrum Conference, St. Louis 11/6/2015

Source: 1. – An essay I read at the Trans Spectrum Conference, St. Louis 11/6/2015

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Much Depends on Dinner

One Tomato Production

When you make a big mistake, a lapse in judgment, a move that is distinctly beneath you and it is one hundred percent certain that whatever happens, one or more lives, probably your own, most definitely your own, along with several lives for which you are directly responsible, will be affected and not in a good way, what do you do?

In my case, you go home and drink the cheap Zinfandel you bought but don’t particularly like (thin and a bit bitter, not unlike the interactions of the day), and cook. This is what Ruth Reichl and her gorgeous new book My Kitchen bad wineYear taught me: when in doubt, cook. Actually, I already knew that. But Ruth reaffirmed it.  She and her book came along at the exact right moment, a moment when I needed that best friend to say “Girlfriend, you crazy. But it’s nothing that a glass…

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Mine eyes

Source: Mine eyes

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Mine eyes

Source: Mine eyes

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