Tuesday, February 11, 2014 at 09:37AM 
When we were kids, growing up in a pack on Liberty Street, Sunday mornings were the time when we would watch old movies on the tiny black-and-white tv in the kitchen. They came on at 10:30, and if we were really, really lucky, then it was a Shirley Temple movie.
Oh, how I loved The Little Princess, also my favorite book, but any Shirley Temple movie would do.
Monday, February 10, 2014 at 10:55AM 
I freely admit to a love for all things glitter, and at no time of year is this on greater display than now -- in the lead-up to my favorite holiday.
There's glitter everywhere, in my hair, all over the floor, glinting in the hall runner, even on the dog.
And I couldn't be happier.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014 at 10:07AM 
"I once knew someone who could tune a heart."
"Tune a heart?" I asked, wondering if I had understood him correctly.
"Yes, like an instrument. If a heart was out of tune, he would retune it."
from A Well-Tempered Heart by Jan-Philipp Sendker
It's funny how sometimes things just fall into your lap, how sometimes there just seem to be these repeated coincidences that don't feel like coincidences. How everyone is talking about just what you need to hear.
Times that feel fat with meaning, full of Whoa.
Monday, February 3, 2014 at 08:46AM 
After years of living out here in the country, I'm at the point where I can tell what time of year it is by what's blooming. I'm not sure how useful a skill that is, but there you have it: this set of equations in my head that goes like:
Mimosa and tulip trees = February, Asparagus = March, Lilac = April, and so on.
apricot, global warming, spring in Country Mouse Monday Tuesday, January 28, 2014 at 11:13AM 
The assignment was to write a memory from childhood incorporating as much sensory detail as possible, calling on color and texture and smell. This followed a guided visualization during which I fell very nearly asleep, a not-surprising consequence of sleeping fewer than 6 hours the night before, the fifth night in a row of not sleeping enough, the usual drag of the week taking me under, under, under in the uncomfortable Arts & Crafts-style chair I sat in that offered, at least, the ability to sit crossed legged, knees wedged behind the arm rests, portable desk in my lap.
