Archive | Snapshot

Lady of the House

People ask me what I do when I get up so early (between 5 and 5:30 most days). They assume I am doing something earnest—meditating or writing or channeling my spirit guides. The truth is sometimes I do those things, but rarely before my coffee. Mostly in the wee hours I luxuriate in secret time, found time—a quiet unpunctuated by beeps and whistles and honks. The barely blue hours are when I feel the glamour of solitude most keenly: flowers cut like I like them, bulletin boards scrawled with my big ideas, feet and permakitten propped on the table, fingers painted an unlikely yellow, coffee cup resting without a coaster, and absolutely no media or people blaring. (My house growing up was quite loud.) I may be 46, but inside me a 6-year-old is crowing with great glee and satisfaction: IT’S MY HOUSE AND I CAN DO WHAT I WANT.

The Language of Beauty

The other day I realized that it’d been more than a year since I dyed my hair. Though I don’t hate how the natural color complements my complexion, I’m going to streak the grey with a Kim Novack blond the minute I land a new commentating gig. (Notice I say when, not if; a positive step.) The whole business makes me think of my mom, Mary who renamed herself Sari. For decades, no matter how cross we were with each other, whenever my roots got too dark, she’d look at me contemplatively and say, “Maybe we should brighten your hair up.” And we would. Continue Reading →

Behold the Magic Chair

For the last few years, I’ve been convinced I do my best writing in this chair. It’s the perfect height, the perfect angle, the perfect location—right in front of Oslo Coffee, where I can swill strong americanos and people-watch and puppy-flirt whenever I need a break. When the first iteration of this chair fell apart, Oslo owner JD reordered it from Amazon “so I’d have one less thing to worry about” after I lost my job. When its replacement was stolen last week, I am sorry to report I broke down in tears. (This may have something to do with my overall blocks regarding writing my first book.) Today, a second replacement magically appeared. “JD reordered it again,” reported a barista blithely. “Someone really needed it.” The small kindnesses loom the largest.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy