Author of the novel WHEN YOU LOSE CONTROL

Dragonflies and butterflies  White and black on the bed  A beetle here  A ladybug over there  The chilly air  Sun shining in  And dust glittering  Little paisley shapes  You're warm and safe  Soft cotton all around  We laugh and roll At the precipice, we, together 

Perogies  And tomato soup  Mixed veggies  And water mugs  A seat on the counter  Imelda on the air  The little things  All the gentle  And caring  Little things Genuine  Wondrous  True  Love  A life  That is finally  Happy 

Violet splotchy dress  Neon pink flowers  Lavender go-go boots  Tap tap  Arm sway arm sway  Sing out  Call out 

How do you measure, measure what's happened? What a difference three months makes. How extraordinary the little chain of events has been. How joyous is life.

Dorothy wasn't a Gale  She was a wild wind  Blustering on the  Kansas prairie  Twirled in a twister  Blown away  Sailing on the breeze  To love  For adventure  Rainbows and bricks  Dogs in baskets  To melt  To garner a broom  Oh, but what was the mission, Really? Why, Dorothy? Neither bad nor good  Neither tin nor gold  Gulches and glitches  Away with you  Be strong and  Sail away  On the blue sky  And sparkle 

The birch tree orchard  Curved in a soft C shape  And light shone through  Each bristly little space  Snow white, great reedmace All glistened from mornings sun  Such wonder in such moments Oh, the joy in this sight  The scratchy texture  The dream and the reverence  Oh, the early time  These bless-ed snippets  Of wondrous life 

Basically, everything this year had been movie-like—just craziness. Any one thing that happened this year would have been a MAJOR life event, and there's been like ten things. I am shocked and awed and grateful. Wow. What a ride. 

The prompt was expand upon: I'd like to really understand everything that led me... For Many Reasons, I Hate Math I'd like to really understand everything that led me to Baldwinville Elementary, a falling apart and underfunded school that, for some reason, had wall-to-wall carpeting. God, that carpeting stunk, and I can still smell that odor if I think about it long enough, though I very much don't want to.  Baldwinville Elementary, a grey two-story building with buzzing, prison-like lights, sat at the state's saddest intersection. To the right was Winchendon, which the locals referred to as Winchen-tucky; to the front was the main road into the bad part of Athol, and to the left was the street that led to the old Salvadore car lot. Scattered around this podunk crossroads were a minuscule California Paints and Stains, Village Pizza, and a heavily polluted river, where they held the annual rubber duck race each year.  Mayberry this small town was not, but I had chosen th...

Studio City, California  On .29 acres sits a gorgeous time capsule of 60s and 70s kitsch with classic cars the size of tanks and plastic grass. A charming split-level ranch with stonework and both Dutch modernism and mid-century modern design, this home is warm and filled with genuine love. Furniture in loud plaids, vinyl, and plastic, pepper this cozy house, as do dark brown, avocado green, and prison jumpsuit orange. Wood paneling at every turn delights the eye. Backyard is fully loaded with seesaw, swings, patio, carport, and a dog house for a nonexistent dog.  Comes with jolly, motherlike home assistant who bakes cakes for every occasion, large and small. Happy blended family sold separately. 

Have been told that I, and my laugh, are much too loud.  Have been made to believe that I am clingy, needy, or too affectionate.  Have been told my nose and forehead are too big, too manly.  Have been made to believe that openly sharing snacks and food is not okay because what you ordered, you ordered.  Have been told that I was a lot, too much, not enough.  Have been made to believe that I am stupid and/or less than because of dyscalculia and ASD, etc. Have felt inadequate.  Ugly. Unworthy. Like I had to pent it all up. Unwanted. Unrequited. Small. Bad small. No more.

Bruce Springsteen said in his song, For You,  I came for  you , for you, I came for you But you did not need my urgency  and for once, my urgency is needed. And that has made all the difference.

Dashing, good morning!  I rather enjoy your face, oh, to be with you. 

He looked to me  with faded aqua eyes and said, matter of fact,  "If there is nature worth seeing  they'd have built a hotel next to it.  For that is how  I would like  to view the world. To see the scenery, safe behind plexiglass." 

I've volunteered at many an event to face paint as a means of fundraising. This Saturday was one of those days and I found myself sitting in the basement of my best friend's Non-profit, next to a dear old friend. The goal was to get donations for the NP and to streamline the face painting if needed, if there was a line or crowding, etc. We drew up a chart that said the kids could get a simple bird, tree, or snowflake. Most were not interested and asked for something custom, which was more than fine. Until one girl asked me to turn her entire face into a dinosaur; thankfully, she settled for a small red brontosaurus on one cheek and a green one on the other. 

Alone in the corner, bent over a book of poems  Sitting beneath the lights that let out low hums Hot coffee by your side as you ponder the meaning  I long to join you but fear you'd be bothered by my intervening  So I took a bite of my Austrian tiramisu  Wondered, imagined, and thought, of you