(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

Red. Stop sign red. Stop. I should have stopped before I started today. Just a litany of woes, it was. One thing after another. Losing

I was trying to show you the rain drops falling on the water. And on the ice. And on the snow. Making slop. A mire.

(coming home late) Yesterday, in my online art group, we were talking about how to determine which ways to participate in social media. The gist