Yesterday, I bent over to pull up my jeans and I haven’t been able to stand up since. It’s been a full ten days since I’ve worked. I took the first week of this new year off, a decision that seemed very chic and mature when I made it but which proves now delusional and ill advised as I am a waitress who depends on each shift to pay my rent. But, as a pe…

Recently, I’ve been met with a familiar feeling of frustration. I’m bored with where I am in my “career”, disappointed with my finances, confused with where I am “going” and what I am qualified to do. I feel deeply unsatisfied creatively and I am craving more responsibility …

Alas, another post where I’ve sat down to type to you with no clue about what. Let’s discover together, shall we?

I don’t know the exact reason for my current state of contentedness. Spending an hour giving myself a manicure. Getting the laundry done and waiting a day to fold it. Alan on the porch putting new tires on his bike. Meeting our new neighbor while I was downstairs watching him ride it. Saying hello to her …

At Medlock Bridge Elementary, where I spent first through fifth grades, there were clocks on the walls in the hallways. Around 8 years old, when my consciousness woke up to the concept of time, I became obsessed with keeping up with its passage. In line, to and from recess or the cafeteria, I would glance up at the numbers,

Friday night found me sobbing. Scraps, my crazy terrier (who adopted my parents when we moved home and now lives with them), had been coughing for two weeks. What we thought was pneumonia turned out to be heart failure. A term I have learned over the past two days does not in fact mean “in the process of dying that very minute” as I assumed.

Fifty-two weeks ago I was frustrated. I’d had my Substack for eight months, started off strong and then gradually let the motivation to keep up with it fade into oblivion. It was a pattern familiar to the point of repulsion. I was about to turn 40 and quite frankly too

When I was 13, I was pretty sure I wanted to be an actress or a doctor. For about 4.2 seconds I also considered being an Olympic Equestrian but absolutely hated competing in horse shows. Go figure. I’d played Widow Corny in our middle school production of

I broke my favorite mug a few nights ago and sobbed. Big alligator tears, like the time I swung my one-year old nephew around (something he normally LOVES) too soon after he woke up and he looked at me like, “why’d you do that?” and then bawled. I felt as sorry for myself as I did for him, “why’d it have to be that mug?” It was handmade by my friend,

Famously, on her second to last shift before retiring as a server and moving to an island in the middle of the Indian Ocean (can’t make this shit up), my friend and former coworker, Sita, received a $1000 tip. It was jaw dropping and inspiring. Truly the stuff of legends.