Without a weekly newspaper deadline, I’ve had little desire to sit at my computer and write these past two months. The sun is shining. The grass is green. The lake is warm. And we’ve been doing what people do when all those stars align.
No, I haven’t missed writing. Continue reading “Sweet Sucker Punch”
There are only a handful of dreams that impacted me enough that I clearly remember them now years later.
In one such dream during my time working at Microsoft, I needed to meet my manager on the other side of a small pond. One route around the pond was wooded and the other side was an open meadow. Continue reading “The Hard Way”
This is not a story of regret or repentance. It’s a story about how everything worked out perfectly.
Fifteen years ago in the early summer of 2004, I got pregnant and chose to have an abortion. The reasons are many, but the only one that really matters is that I wanted to decide my future instead of malfunctioning birth control deciding it. As a modern-day human, it was very important to me to have a family of my choosing with the person of my choosing at a time of my choosing.
That spring, I had just moved to Seattle from Portland, Oregon for my dream job at Microsoft. At first, I had a very hard time meeting new people and making friends, so I joined a softball team and signed up on Match.com. Continue reading “The Poetry of My Abortion Story”
Sometimes, when people ask me what I believe I tell them, “Everything. I believe in everything.”
And then they ask if I believe in ghosts or the Loch Ness monster or aliens. “Yes,” I always say. “Yes, I do.” This is an especially fun conversation with a youngster; they can get quite creative and are tickled at trying to stump my consistent Yes. Continue reading “The Daily Ramble”
121 columns later and this is my final piece to appear in the now-closed Warroad Pioneer, a small-town newspaper that had survived for over a century. If read chronologically, they tell the winding story of loss and heartbreak, growth and hope.
I stood a good ways back watching the huge balm of gilead before she fell. Up here, where they grow like dandelions, it’s easy to dismiss these trees as junk wood or “trash trees” as I’ve heard them called. But this peaceful old dame has healing ointment in her veins, salves for human wounds if it’s processed right. And she’s surely seen twice as many summers as I. Perhaps Iris, the graduating kindergartener, and I will count the rings later to verify. Continue reading ““You’ve Got to Stand for Something or You’ll Fall for Anything.””
The Warroad Pioneer (the small-town newspaper I write for) is going out of business.
This column is one I didn’t want to write, so I’ll keep it brief (haha) and get it out of the way this week instead of next.
I’ve never been good at Goodbye’s. Sometimes I skip them altogether. But writing this column meant too much to me to not say a few words. Continue reading “A Fond Farewell”
Column 119 – As a new mother, trying to reconcile the existence of both infinite love and prevalent evil proves futile. Life right now is about my baby’s bright smile. Just as it should be.
The sound, soft and reminiscent, didn’t register at first. As wakefulness spread across my body like a good brandy warming the belly, I realized the novel sound was a first spring rain. The ground lay white with snow still, our woods gray and dreary. But to hear and see the rain from the vantage of first morning’s light felt delicious, almost exhilarating. Continue reading “The Bidding of Love”
Column 118 – Many things, but mostly my aching hips at 4-months postpartum, led me to a carnivorous trial diet. I went from veg-heavy SAD, to “Eat Meat, Drink Water.” Here’s what happened in the first two weeks.
Normally, I wouldn’t share anything like this after such a short time, but two weeks into a new way of eating and I’m excited enough about the healing I’m experiencing that I want to talk about it. Continue reading “My Hips Led Me Here”
Column 117 – The world is changing…but not fast enough.
Mud season is nearly upon us. Or, rather, under us. Soon it’ll be tracked in on muck boots, on the back of everyone’s pant legs, coating our vehicles and painting our progress towards spring. This time of year the snow is going, but not fast enough. Or so my mind whispers when I imagine putting the boots away and having the freedom of leaving home in mere flip flops or even barefoot. Continue reading “Not Fast Enough”