Author of the novel WHEN YOU LOSE CONTROL

This was a strange and interesting year to put it mildly.  In February, I started my novel, in June, I finished the first draft. During the summer and the fall I learned the heartbreak and ache of querying.  I started blogging again and doing creative things; including needle felting, making earrings, and making ornaments.  Concerts came back and I saw Billy Joel for the 11th time, Guns N Roses for the 2nd, and The Monkees for the last.   It was largely a really good year and I hope, so sincerely, that this coming year is going to be even better.  Happy New Year!

Let's see if I actually keep these new year's resolutions: See my novel published Take care of myself- mentally and with pedicures. Also, eating better because I've eaten a lot of garbage this year and it shows. Be nicer and more sensitive. Be curious, not judgemental.  Follow-through on house projects. 

It's 80° with no humidity and the perfect blend of sun and clouds.  There's a beach with clean, magenta and tan sand that leads to very warm calm, waves.  A luxe and heavy towel is laid flat and stays spread out, never blowing away or finding itself out of place.  There's a chair and thatched roof awning that shields a stack of books and thick coconut drinks.  A hut with a deep tub and cozy bed are off to the right.  No one is around and I am free to watch scampering lizards in a bug free paradise.  Somehow, it is always an hour until sunset and cold isn't a word here. It is timeless and free from sadness or fear or anxiety.  The ultimate fantastical getaway. 

My husband got me a Cameo of Barry Williams for Christmas, and it was...exquisite. Best Christmas gift I've ever received. I've loved Greg and the Bunch since I was about four or five, so for 30+ years.  Mr. Williams was delightful, kind, cheery, and completely adorable. It made my life, not just my Christmas.  He also wished me well on my novel, which was a shocking surprise and made me tear up. What's even better is he congratulated me on my book before my parents. Greg Brady commented on my novel before my parents. Love. It.  Happy Holidays, all. #BarryWilliams #GregBrady #cameo 

This Festivus season remember: Don't let the tinsel distract you Don't be a scab Don't reign blows down on someones head Do air your grievances Do watch your lighting Do celebrate the rest of us Happy Festivus to all, and to all a successful feats of strength!

Recently, my dad stopped by my house to drop off a couple of boxes full of things from my childhood. It was primarily drawings I had made and coloring books I had filled.  As I picked up one drawing from when I was about seven, judging by the date, I couldn't help but say, "I wish my art had been encouraged." The drawing was good, and it made me sad that I was never allowed to take any sort of art lesson, class, or be involved in any sort of arts program. My parents never encouraged any of my strengths, my ability to read far above my grade level, my artistic talents, and they certainly never gave a shit about my severe, life-affecting, crippling anxiety. Caring, noticing, and effort was never apart of their repertoire. I stood there with the paper in my hand and felt a regret for the loss of time and unfostered ability. With a scowl, my dad barked, "You had crayons!"

Yesterday, my husband and I were brushing our cat's teeth. We do it per the instructions of our veterinarian, and get it done every Saturday morning. All 5 of our cats hate it, but we get it done quickly and efficiently. (Years ago, one of our cats, who had horrible teeth when we got him, needed $900 worth of dental surgery to fix his problems.) So, in the interest of not making our cats experience a dental surgery, we brush their teeth.  Anyway, back to Saturday morning.  We brushed the teeth of our first 4 cats and couldn't find our 5th. Our house is exceedingly small, so we were a little confused because there's only so many places he could be.   We searched every room, even looking in places we knew he wouldn't be able to fit. Couldnt find him. After a couple of hours, I told my husband I found the cat, he was sitting on the bed. Great, let's brush his teeth and leave him be. I go to grab my cat off the top of the bed and he scurries away and disappears in the b

I love my button ring and I've had it since 2007. It's one of the few feminine things I actually like. I'm pretty butch and get teased for it and hilariously today I just learned today that: " In ancient times, the body piercing was a sign of manliness and courage. According to some sources, Egyptian pharaohs believed that navel rings  were emblems of the ritual transition from life on earth to eternity ." I love it, haha. Besides, gender norms are stupid. 

Perhaps there's something to This manifesting thing Perhaps I wasn't foolish to dream This just may take wing  Perhaps this is it This is my happiness about to ring Perhaps I have done it This makes my heart want to sing

I curled up under The Christmas tree Laying beneath  The fake crinkly branches Looking up at White lights And over At the hockey game The sounds of UPN And Neely to Oates The smells of dust And attic Decades later I stretch out On my own couch To enjoy the view Of playful cats  Settling into A green and sparkly Cuddly space Maybe this time of year Isn't so bad If the focus remains On the sweet and fleeting Moments 

Forty-three days ago I was so excited But I also knew  It was the end That farewell Meant just that I wore my decades old dress Took the last few straws Of childhood  And had one last brush With the long ago No guitar Only smiles and song A love of thirty years And yours of many more Two heroes of my youth My always Truth be told So I did my parting Fuller and happy Doleful and nostalgic  Went about the world Still listening I know I'll never stop In a mix of mushy snow I thought of October The love you bring Wondering when  Dreading it The intuition planted  And so the pass The end An inevitable I was dreading My heart a drum beat As I searched for the truth And then confirmed it He was looking For the door To the next For he has all that he needs RIP, Mike Nesmith. Gone but never forgotten. 

She peered into  The second story  Gable window At the tall boy Penny pencil in hand Bent over  His words, his world Gold rimmed glasses Framed his  Handsome face As a dreamy smile Was on his lips He seemed to glow Brighter than the afternoon She longed to feel To escape Or create  The way he did  But what, she wondered, Could he possibly need To get away from He lived in a lovely home On a welcoming farm With pleasant people The kind mother who baked The strong father who provided Six brothers and sisters His life seemed perfect She sighed as she walked away Time to return to where She never wanted to be Dust covering her feet Ache hardening her heart Sadness, grief for what wasn't   Yearning to climb through that window

I looked at my Fitbit. It was 1:00. Fredrick would sleep until about 2:30. We would leave to pick up Francis from preschool at 2:45. I had time to start another load of laundry. I should probably add Fredricks' clothes in as well; he went through onesies like crazy. I gazed down the foyer, then up the tan carpeted stairs. I wanted to pass out from exhaustion just thinking about climbing up to the second floor and making my way into the baby's room. I sighed but started walking. I paused at the foot of the staircase. I felt my eyes closing as I began to dredge myself up. I was using the railing excessively, but that only made my arms as tired as my legs and the rest of my body.  When I finally reached the top, I wanted to cry. Something was very wrong. I'd been exhausted before, but not like this. I looked down the hallway. There was no way I could make it to Fredricks' room to collect his laundry, and I certainly couldn't make the journey back down the stairs.   Sen

Two hearts knit together  In quarantined Manhattan Sorry for the social climate In love but scared, found yet lost But hopeful, holding on to precious love They had each other and much more  Both shared their guilt and fear Tried to use their voices Though they shook, they spoke Never wanting things to be the same Each morning thankful for logic and heroes  Belief and trust in science The actor a reader, the writer acting Not knowing the way out in the end Doubtful but confident of much and more I shall be say this with an eyeroll As of yet their story remains known only to me Two hearts, three, with mine I try each and every day to share  This novel, their story, the world will know someday (Heavily inspired by the Robert Frost poem The Road Not Taken)

My heart is beating So loudly It hurts my ears Fingers shaking Ten tiny earthquakes The room is spinning I can't breathe But in a good way An exhilarating way I'm on the brink Maybe this is it Perhaps verging closer To success A long time coming  A lot of aching Trying, failing, giving up But trying again Having hope Resilience And now, just maybe, A Scarsdale surprise 

Five days every week Spent away from what I love  I want to go home  It takes all my spoons  The lonely highway commute Unfulfilling job