Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.1 (except it’s less of a part and more of an interlude) Part 4 Part 5 However, maybe you didn’t read those, and maybe you want to read one post and not 6. Fair enough. Here’s what you need to know: Robert was my first husband. We . . . → Read More: The Transcendent Familiar 6: Love Is Not a Victory March
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I wrote part five of The Transcendent Familiar (No idea what I’m talking about? Here: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4). Really, I did. As it turns out, though, what I thought was part 5 is actually part 6 (I think, though who knows? Maybe it’s part 7, or 12, or 34.). . . . → Read More: Follow That Rabbit I’m glad blogs don’t have feelings. Otherwise, I think No Points for Style would be feeling sad and lonely and neglected right about now. But! No hole. Not a bit. I would forgive you for assuming I disappeared because I slipped and fell into the depths of depression since that’s the usual cause of . . . → Read More: I did not disappear for the reason you probably think I disappeared and that is an awesomely and excellently fabulous thing. First things first: you people will never know (no matter how hard I try to tell you) what you have done for me this week. I want to respond to all your comments individually, but being emotionally overwhelmed. . .well, we’ll see. In any case, many, many thanks. This being-separated-from-Jacob-and-Abbie is one of the . . . → Read More: Bombarded I hate buying groceries. I know. You’re probably surprised. Heh. Alas, it eventually has to be done. By yesterday, my pantry looked like this:
That isn’t the pantry of a family that is in any danger of going hungry, but Brian told me that if I tried to feed him one . . . → Read More: Super Secret Phone Wizardry This morning at 10 am, Carter and I were eating toast and watching Little House on the Prairie when I said, “I’ve hardly been on the computer for days. I should go to my office for awhile.” Carter, who has a (inherited) flare for (melo)drama, sighed loudly. “We had so much fun the last . . . → Read More: Slow River I love Jacob. In my toenails, I love him. In my liver and capillaries and plasma, I love him. In the late-1980s, when my whole family was caught up in the self-help movement, it was easy to stand arm’s-distance away from my parents and acknowledge all that they had done wrong, the sins committed, . . . → Read More: To the Moon I am tired. Weary. I feel like my bones are filled with lead. Do you remember when you were in college and the end of the semester was a wild rush and you studied worked wrote studied more took exams and then, after the last class, you went home and collapsed for a month? . . . → Read More: The Lead In My Bones Brian was watching Roseanne last night while I sat next to him, writing a grocery list. One of the kids on the show was yelling about needing something for a bake sale and Dan (He was the dad, for those of you who were living under a rock or wearing diapers in the 80s.) . . . → Read More: My Very First Recipe and Cooking Post!  |
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