Instead of allowing my usual complaints and dissatisfactions to drum my mood like November drizzle, I'm using this exercise to find the bright spots already in my life.

I’m thankful I have a body that continues to function, a mind that continues to grow, and the space and… Read full post »

Nature drops rainbows underfoot to crunch,

  bathes leaves in brilliant sun,

pools colors in the puddles.

A distraction? The end's inevitable,

and the path is clear.

We'll  shrug off life, like Autumn's blanket.

I… Read full post »

Why do some plants have to die to spread their seeds?

Spent and brown, pods  burst in a last ditch effort to live on.

I prefer lantana's plan - seeds form amid the flowers.

Buds and blooms and seedpods together on one stalk.

Mingling generations.… Read full post »

My mother’s girlhood poems are recorded in white ink on black pages, in a book intended for photographs. The pages are brittle, and some of them have disconnected at their perforations, so that when I open it now they flutter to the floor if I’m not careful.… Read full post »

Kris T. Parker has an open call for stories about scars. While I can't support her theory that everybody has a scar near their eye or chin, I can offer my own examples of stitches and disfigured digits.

My only two are both on my left hand. The first  is… Read full post »

Unending sunlight.

One yellow schoolbus, with driver.

Fifteen preschoolers, three teachers.

Hats, mittens, saltines and juice-boxes.

First aid kit, spare set of dry clothes.

Tissue and paper towels. Papers and markers. Bag of books.

Nature Center. Pond. Trails crunchy with leaves.  

Bathr… Read full post »

I’m waiting for the last two kids to be picked up after my morning class. Emily and Jane are sitting on the steps inside the doors, clutching rolled-up easel paintings, and I stand in the doorway, peering through the drizzly rain for their folks’ arrival.

I’m trying… Read full post »

Working with kids means I’m privy to an astounding amount of personal information. Kids don’t censor themselves, so I’m often informed about what was served for breakfast, how their Dad sounds when he is mad, who sleeps where, and what sort of underwear they wear.

F… Read full post »

I’ve been peed on, puked on, and am snotted on regularly in my preschool classroom.  I’ve become familiar with the signs of impending leakage, and spend a good part of my day offering tissues instead of my pants leg and asking if someone has to use the potty. I’ve… Read full post »

I came home from work with the idea I'd jot down a little story from the classroom. Nothing heavy, just a smile from my day to share with all of you. When I opened to my blog, posts from some of my favorites sounded so good I thought I'd just sample… Read full post »

As the bottle spun I was terrified it would land on me, and the only reason I didn’t try to melt into the wood paneling that lined my Aunt’s basement was the friend my cousin Paul had invited to his first boy-girl birthday party. Irv had feathered blonde hair and teeth… Read full post »

I’m glad I taught my daughter Amy to feed herself. Starting in infancy, when I sprinkled frozen peas on her high chair tray, or handed her a spoon to hold while I fed her, I invited her to get in on the action. She’d practice that pincer grip on the peas,… Read full post »

I’m learning to paddleboard. You may have seen paddleboarders, if you live near any body of water. The board is long, like a surf board, but you stand on it, and paddle along. Well, paddleboarders stand on it – I’m still learning.

It’s a step in my plan to one day… Read full post »

"Ya' know, Betty, Porn saved our mariage."

  Read full post »

I've been keeping an eye on the progress at the Foster Avenue underpass. The mural sponsored by the Chicago Public Arts Group is taking shape, and each time I go by there is more to notice. The colored tiles have been added, and grout is being applied.

 squinting at the sun

new buds peek at its brilliance

with bright white pupils

If I’ve decided to write, I open up the laptop in the morning. I don’t use a pen and paper much anymore. For one, my writing is terrible. I never  hold the pen right, and it hurts after a while, and the result is all scribbly and hard to read. So… Read full post »

 Something's happening at the Foster Ave underpass. I first noticed it at the beginning of June, when exiting Lake Shore Drive. A bold black-line drawing appeared, and now it's turning sparkly and bright. A mural's being born, and I've been watching its progress.

   … Read full post »

Damn tub-licking cat! Meowing when the light peeks in the blinds, tiptoeing on my back, claw kneading on my head, licking my eyelids cat! Why did I feel so happy to get custody of her in the divorce? Did I forget the 15 years she’d graced us with sneak-pounces and teeth… Read full post »