A New Essay of Mine in True North Magazine
This quarter’s True North Magazine features an essay of mine: Roots and Flowers: Loss, Grief, and Growth
I Entered A Contest!
I know, it’s so *exciting*! I can barely contain myself. But to truly feel the thrilling highs and lows of the absurdly-optimistic contest slut, I need your help. Will you to vote for my entry in the 365 Days of Adventure in Bend contest held by trazzler.com before June 15 when the voting period ends?…
5 a.m. Returns
Chicken Little typically appears at my bedside between 5 and 5:30 a.m. “Mommy!” she says exuberantly, as if she herself has already had several cups of coffee and can’t understand my languor. “Is it wake-up time?” I always have a hard time answering this question. Primarily, because I am in a coma. But also because…
If You Live Through It, Turn It Into a Story
Back by popular demand and repeated request…published in High Desert Journal last year…the story of our ill-fated rafting trip down Hell’s Canyon…my essay Passing Through the Green Room…alternately titled, The Time My Husband Tried to Kill Me. (well, he didn’t mean to, and it did turn out to be a good story, after all) Click…
The Perils of Working From Home
So, just a few minutes ago I was diving into today’s projects here in my home office—gearing up for some magazine copy editing, prepping for a phone interview with a college prof at 10, trying to think of what the heck I am going to write about fly fishing, when I heard the doorbell. Obediently…
Super Moms, Unite!
Happy Mother”s Day to all you super mamas! This card came from my own superhero mother. She”s awesome. Since Captain Daddy is working today, I”ll be performing all stunts myself. Now–faster than two small children high on maple syrup! More powerful than a mile-high pile of useless plastic toys! Able to tranform a disaster area into…
Seven Candles, Burning Bright
Today is the seventh anniversary of the birth and death of my first child. There was a time when I thought it would get easier each year. Now I think, it doesn’t. First comes a frantic stemming of the tide. But it comes anyway—a massive tidal wave of grief. I cry for days. I mean,…
How's Saturday Night, Tom?
When I was a kid, I thought that all of the bands were actually at the radio station, playing live music that was then somehow funneled into our living room hi-fi. It seemed rather complicated—difficult logistically. I couldn’t quite figure out how they switched to a new band between songs so quickly. Multiple studios? And…
Snakes Are For Girls
Last weekend I encountered a mom who was having a bad day at the festival. We were in line for face painting, and her daughter wanted to be a tiger. She was fretting. “I’ve been trying to talk her out of it for the last half-hour,” she confided. “I said, wouldn’t you rather be a…
Glory
On Monday, I walked to a meeting. The route was a stretch of Nye Beach in Newport, Oregon. The destination was a local pub. The person I was meeting was my publisher. On my back, I carried 160 pages of paper—my book manuscript, completed last week and fresh from the printer. The sun shone brilliantly,…