Abhor. That was one of my father’s favorite words. He’d pronounce it with emphasis on many of those long horse back rides we did together.

(“Bleah!”) Pouring rain? On ice? On snow? But enough about the weather. Nor being perfect, I mean. Who said it would be. Ever? I remember

Dun-da-dunnnnnnnn. Footprints. A monster for sure! My plan was to never get married. I was going to be an art monster instead. Women almost never

(a log sitter) I was captured by this excerpt from Jenny Ofill’s novel, Department of Speculation. I can see her four year old little girl

(“I’m waiting…”) Sometimes a couple of lines in a book will make me laugh outright: You agree it will do for meantime. The first thirty

If you entered the room I’m working in right now, you would go – what happened? It’s – well – not tidy. I’m what you

I’m testing to see if I think the velcro attachments (loosely pinned for first look) will work. I think they do! That means I can

(reads: THIS CHICK HAS HAD IT) What female person can resist this? I couldn’t. I ordered it off Etsy a while ago. I couldn’t wait

I ordered this amaryllis November 20. Red for the holidays. When it hadn’t budged/was still only a fat bulb on December 31, I emailed the

(“what happened to the beautiful snow?”) I just got back from overnight visiting Nika and Scott – and Ariella, who had come up for the