Protected: Day 129: Baking and crying.
Other writing
First of all: What business does a rectangular wall mirror have costing $300?! How dare you? You are a piece of glass in a metal frame. The source of my gripe: My husband and I are remodeling the primary bathroom of our townhouse, which hasn’t changed meaningfully since it was built more than 20 years…
Read MoreMy yoga pants are smeared with paint. Every bare inch of my skin is covered in flecks of the stuff. My cheeks are just pink with a dinner-hour sunburn that will fade by tomorrow night, and my belly is churning, full of ice cream I shouldn’t have eaten but wouldn’t have dared resist. On a…
Read MoreI can just see the shimmer of pirate fireworks going off across Western Avenue through my office window; there are explosions in the distance from every direction. Our festivities are long over for the day: We gathered to eat, drink, and sweat through our clothes with family — responsibly distanced and all, of course. I…
Read MoreIt’s not yet 7 a.m., and the world is waking up beyond the sanctuary of my back deck. Birds start their morning chirping hellos at one another, cloistered and invisible among the leaves. Western Avenue hums. In spite of the drama during last week’s farmers market, I came home with an armload of tiny herbs…
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