Ma used to write in the night, when she was high,
and the frantic typing,
her fingers flying on that old Royal keyboard
to keep up with her racing thoughts
click-clacked me awake from my sleep.

I’d startle to her freight train
blasting through my dreams, and through the apartment.
Lie sweating and st… Read full post »

1. My mother and father argued over my name for days after I was born. Mom wanted to name me Gianinamia after a song by Nelson Eddy and Jeanette McDonald. Thankfully they didn’t, and named me Anita Rose for my two grandmothers, but Mom always called me Nina anyway.

2. I
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Yikes! It's sort of overwhelming to have gotten such a big response to my post. I knew I would be reading while the stew simmered, but didn't think so many people would respond in the time it took me to check a few chores off my list.

Thanks for the warm… Read full post »

Feel like I'm standing in the doorway at the party. Overhearing brilliant conversations I'll never feel smart enough to join. What interesting people on OS, and how vividly they write! I'm inspired and excited and also intimidated. Who am I to think I can write? Aside from grocery lists and school… 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 »