Category Archives: Writings

I still can’t believe I live in Georgia. The thought hits me as the insect hum and sauna-like humidity greet me on the porch. An orangish, pumpkin moon hovers on the horizon, welcoming me to another southern evening. I’m trying out the screenless front porch tonight, lounging on the L-shaped couch that, just yesterday, satContinue reading “Designing Moonlit Moments”

In the quiet, cool air-conditioned space, I’m squirreled away at my desk in the closet, trying to write. The image of our communal patio, with its newly hung lights and the sound of family playing the board game Seven Wonders outside, tempts me. Seconds later, I give in. Now, I’m perched on the newly assembledContinue reading “The Ants Go Marching”

I filtered through the day like always, thumbing through it like it was the Yellow Pages—another symbol of how dated I sometimes feel. I don’t mind those moments of nostalgia, though, remembering the corded phone days when a boy who liked me would call, and I’d stretch the curly wire as far as it wouldContinue reading “Concrete and Comfort”

Three out of four of us started our walk at 5:30 this morning. An hour later, after a blister took one out and teaching kindergarten took the other, I slammed on my over-ear headphones, twisted my watch, and observed 2.5 miles, then vowed to double it as quickly as possible. Alone in the dawn’s darkness,Continue reading “Perspective Shape Shifting”

Seven to eight shrill cries from a red-shouldered hawk are followed by the barks of dozens of crows, landing like ornaments high atop a tree. The once-hidden hawk circles overhead, its whistle-like screams filling the air, and I find it hard to discern who’s chasing whom. I no longer need the Merlin bird song-identifying appContinue reading “Communally Living”

“Maybe, but probably not,” I responded to my walking partner, Lynn, when she invited me to her church this morning. The norm in the South is church, and the fact that I don’t do church sometimes feels like I’m one of those little black smoky guys that come out of the sewer pipes when someoneContinue reading “Gettin’ Jiggy With It”

The negative hype from women who’ve braved the boob squisher machine was all for nothing—my first-ever mammogram was quicker and almost less painful than a stop at the car wash. Thankfully, I’m not someone with fragile mammaries, nor do I flinch with modesty when the thick, cardboard-like open-front shirt exposes my breast at the startContinue reading “Thanks for the Mammaries”

There’s a breakfast spot in Enumclaw, Washington called the Krain that I’ve got a serious hankering for. My go-to order: the Krain Favorite omelet with biscuits and gravy, plus gravy over the top of hashbrowns, washed down with a root beer. Back in the day, my family, extended family, and friends’ families would all meetContinue reading “Where Art Thou, Gravy?”

In addition to the cream and sand-colored striped rug and the mosaic glass dragonfly side table with a plant on top, the front patio’s facelift now includes a cedar-colored rocking chair, complete with a two-inch cream pillow pad. The speaker barely squeezes onto the side table, but its melodic, dreamy tunes will be the newContinue reading “Bring Me a Dream”

A nagging headache has been simmering all day, refusing to quit. I tried to sleep it off, but it just hopped to the other side of my skull like, “Still here!” Determined to ignore it, I grabbed a small bundle of double-zero Italian flour and mixed it with three eggs and olive oil directly onContinue reading “It’s Amore”