Maybe longer. Stick with me. You sit down. Maybe in the morning before anyone else is up. You’ve heard some sort of magic happens in the morning. You haven’t found the magic Maybe there’s a journal because you’ve heard that journals are good for something, too. You put a pen to the lined paper. Because you need lines. But there’s no ink in the pen. You have a million pens in the house, but none of them work. You find…
When I was 29, I made a list. Start a blog was on it. Ten years and a bit later, I asked my readers (that would be you, hi) to Ask Me Anything. I answered some questions here, but some questions called for a new post. Like this one. What advice would you give yourself 10 years ago? That question came from Rachael at Racheal’s Thoughts. And well, I’ve been thinking about it ever since. Ten years ago, I was…
I’ve lost count of the days I’ve been without my laptop. These days, when the kid leaves for school (because that happens here), she sets a stuffed animal on my notebook (an actual notebook, my faves are marble composition books and I talked them about here.) The stuffed animal is a scruffy looking cat with big eyes which Isla has named after me, and insists is my writing mascot. (Still not as scruffy as this one.) Anyway, the thing is…
‘If you need me, I’ll be in the bath with my goggles on,’ said my newly minted six-year-old, over the weekend. June is a pretty big month for us around here, but I think life lately can be summed up in that sentence. We celebrate how and where we can. And even though it’s June, the weather has turned October-ish, so socially-distanced cupcakes outside get rained out, or cut short. More on that later. Before Isla’s birthday there was our…
I was counting the days, then I lost count. Staying home isn’t new to me, but when we moved here, I imagined having a birthday cake at my favorite bakery, going to the bookstore and then taking the kid to the zoo. Perfect day, complete with people-watching. But this year, everyone’s at home or should be. What day is it? One day last week, it was my birthday. The night before Isla was in her blanket fort, drawing. ‘Nothing to…
