I’ve rewritten the first paragraph of this post at least twenty times. I’m stuck. I have things I need to say, but am not convinced this is the best forum. I’m oversharing with strangers, but intentionally silent with friends. I’m craving the catharsis that writing brings, but can’t decide which[Read more]
When I was a child, I could count on at least one 500-mile road trip every summer, traveling from our home in Georgia to my grandmother’s house in Illinois. In the late 1970s, there wasn’t much to do on a long car ride, other than argue with your sisters or[Read more]
If you didn’t meet me until after my divorce, you might find this hard to believe, but I can find something positive in anything or anyone. Really. That’s a required personality trait for an upcycler. You have to be able to see beneath or beyond what’s there and envision what[Read more]
I think I’m ready. Ready to start again. Ready to look at what I’ve let pile up around me and see building blocks instead of rubble. Ready to invest – my time, my effort, my heart. I think I’m ready, but I admit I’m scared. I’ve spent the better part[Read more]
I’ve started half a dozen blog posts in the last two days. None of them say what I want to say. Some of them say too much of what I shouldn’t say. All of it is frustrating, because I’ve resumed my reliance on this form of therapy and, when I[Read more]
I’m so full of shit. I grew zinnias once. One summer, five years ago. It was a fluke. Magic seeds. I don’t know. But, the way I talk about plants and gardening, you’d think my backyard looked like this every year. It doesn’t. You want to know what it really[Read more]