And so, in August, I had a coffee-meets-laptop mishap. I wrote in real notebooks flipped upside down. Real notes in green ink. Frank the Laptop went into the shop, where my husband promised the laptop gods didn’t laugh at me. I had words to write, so Truman the Giant Eff-off Desktop was set up on my kitchen table. Since we’ve not so recently moved, there is no longer a wall between my kitchen and my living room, and since we’re…
Well, my husband. Hi. I’ve had to spend some time this month writing about the physical side of my disability. I usually don’t focus on what I can’t do, and I usually don’t care. But I feel like I’ve been justifying my life and the help I need and now I’m actually exhausted. Maybe that’s because I wake up and feel I haven’t slept. Maybe that’s because I couldn’t get out of bed this morning. No, literally. There was my…
And so, how’s your writing going? Mine, well, is kinda working. Stick with me. I recently declared I’m writing nonfiction essays for NaNoWriMo. My best friend who is my husband is very excited about this. A writing project I might actually finish. We went out for dinner and stargazing and listening to the first music mix he gave me after our first date. We set out some writing rules for the month: I get the office at night. If I…
I’m sitting here drinking my cup of coffee, flipping through some purple-inked pages in an actual marble composition book, trying to blog my way out of an afternoon slump. Edit: It’s now actually 8.50 at night. Dinner, a webinar, and Roald Dahl happened before I could finish this post. Time is weird. Hi. Who’s (still) with me? If you’re interested, here’s my daily routine. For real. Get up, tell Isla that it’s too cold to wear a dress, suggest she…
And so, I’d been watching Isla sleep. In a non-creepy way. When Neil’s away, we have a GIANT SLEEPOVER and she crashes out sideways on my bed. On the days I wake up without her elbow in my stomach or her toe up my nose, I have the benefit of seeing her open her eyes. On Neil’s side of the bed. Isla opens her eyes on Friday morning, ‘Happy Daddy Day,’ she says. I’d texted Neil the night before. Even…
