she hearts guitars
When my daughter left the house this morning in her school uniform, she was carrying far too many things: a backpack, a hoodie, her lunch box, a 20-ounce water bottle dangling from the handle, a book, and a magazine. It wasn’t just any book, either; it was a heavy one, the sixth Harry Pott

fortune teller
Lest you think I'm playing countless rounds of Bejewelled Blitz and neglecting my writerly duties, I thought I'd make a quick appearance as sort of a placeholder while I wait for inspiration. Recently on Facebook, I asked my friends, in a cryptic status message, for ten words. That is, I said something like, "Drop and give

poopularity contest
Pomp hides a multitude of flaws; circumstance garners lots of sympathy. So with trumpet flourishes and sad, mangled-but-fluffy cute puppehs, I announce that I'm in the running for a Baker Artist Artist Award

yippie! hissssssss! hooray!
*note: this blog is messed up in Safari—don't know why!It takes a lot of time to be a genius, you have to sit around so much doing nothing, really doing nothing. ~Gertrude SteinI navigated to my blog from a site about whether shaving makes hair grow back heavier. I had to pr

happy, challah daze
Before spirituality became contagious, like a yuppie sickness, I considered myself spiritual; that is, I worshipped nature and “frolicked in the autumn mist” and babbled about the sunsets and the sounds birds make. But maybe that’s not because of spirit. I am religious in my habits: the way I make morning coffee,