I was six years old the first time I got busted for skipping. My mom—my sweet, exhausted mother—was unaware that I was hiding in the way-back of the station wagon after she dropped her half dozen kids at a church activity. The next time I skipped, I was twelve, and didn't want to tell my … Continue reading Playin’ Hooky & Pursuing Know-How
One of my fave writers once said, "You know, when you first start writing you're going to suck. And so it's good to keep it to yourself, until maybe you don't suck as much." And, holy balls, do I hear that—too my very core, a phrase, by the way, I just learned originated from 14th-century … Continue reading Flesh out the Suck
Turns out? At 53, I can still fuck up my life. In fact, it wasn't difficult to do—not even a little. One choice, one stupid choice, and my life shifted entirely. And I can't blame anyone at all but myself, which sucks balls. Taking the time to assess things while forgiving myself concurrently ain't exactly … Continue reading Well, That Was Stupid
I knew the word entrepreneur by the time I was seven. I couldn't explain it really, and as such couldn't give my friends an accurate definition of what my dad's job actually was. It's a far cry from a firefighter or a pilot, that's for sure. And when our brood of ten rolled into Canada, … Continue reading ahn-truh-pruh-nuer
When I was a kid, my Dad was a smuggler. Every Saturday morning, he would prep his Cessna 172 Skyhawk and take to the skies, hopping the border into the US from where we lived in British Columbia to scoop up his bootleg stash. The quick 45-minute trek landed him in small town Pac NW … Continue reading The Family Smuggler
Before we go further, I'd like to address the ugly, orange elephant in the room. This entry is not about DJT. Not at all. It just pisses me off that one of the most vile people on the planet stole one of the coolest words- especially given the asshole's name is actually Drumpf. And there's … Continue reading The Trump of Tropes: The One
I'll say upfront that I'm healthy as a horse, depending on the horse, and also what a weird saying that is, anyway. That is to say that I'm all good, and according to my recent bloodwork, even better than that. Short the pending results from my boob smashing session as well as the upcoming tube-up-the-pooper, … Continue reading Death Becomes Her
That's it, I'm done. I hereby forfeit the stupid war and let go my worries. As one pop star wisomized "My give-a-fucks are on vacation" and I find myself in her good company (maybe? I don't know her, so...). The point is, I simply don't care anymore. I retired my hot pink three-inch heels deemed … Continue reading Squatter’s Gonna Squat
This is kind of a nut-drag post that I wrote las year while entering into a funk. This diatribe has comfortably collected cobwebs in my drafts file since. I'm cleaning things out, as it were, in order to fill it up again with new half-assed thoughts and ideas. This morning, as I was ambling away … Continue reading Are You Depressed or is it Capitalism?
It's been eleven years and three months since I entered the world of the single life after more than twenty years of marriage. In that time, for the bigger part, I've been happily on my own as I come to know myself. And in finding that person, that "new" me? I've done some running around. … Continue reading WTF is Home, Anyway?
