Day Thirty Five-

April 18, 2020


My friends post funny stuff, important information, photos, questions, sometimes, just check-ins or asks for recommendations about restaurants, learning at home, or where to find toilet paper.

There are sad stories of loss, and warnings from people working on the front lines who know far more than I, and deserve more than a sentence.
There are the people announcing the loss of someone they loved.
There are inspirational quotes, and old wisdom, and poems that steal my breath and give it back.

Some offer glimpses of family life- descriptions of walks in the park, cooking dinner, and video clips of first steps or birthday cakes.
Some are just a sentence or two, stolen from someone else, posted during a commercial or while waiting for someone to make popcorn. We don’t all have the same same of humor, but mostly we do.

I just post.

My updates are glimpses into moments, conversations, temporary revelations, offering tactics that seem to help me cope. I don’t think anyone’s coping. But I leave a lot out.

I’m okay. I have a home, groceries, friends, books, Spotify.

My daughter and son- I already talk about them all the damn time. Remember, you are only hearing my point of view.I don’t agree with all of their choices, but that’s not a blog, that’s a miniseries.

Today, at Tedeschis, I embarrassed my daughter by lingering at the counter, to talk about the fact we were buying instant coffee for some challenge on Instagram.
There were people behind me, I’d left some of my cash at home.

But I was so happy to speak to the woman at the register about this silly internet recipe for Folgers crystals. Katy almost died, but recovered by the time we got home.

When I write my daily reflections, I am selective. I don’t want to bring anyone down, overwhelm, I try not to seem smug, whine, or linger on what seems to be evident. I choose not to be political because I am angry, and leave it to those who are more informed than I.

FYI- Sometimes, I spend hours on Facebook reading reviews for products I’ll never buy.

Lately, I shower every three days, my eyebrows are a mess, and not in the supermodel way. They are a hirsute jungle of proof I don’t care.

When I brag about cleaning, I clean. This translates into I wipe the counters with a dirty sponge sprayed with a product that smells good and cost too much at Whole Foods.

I cried in the morning for a half an hour for something I’m not going to tell you about, but I moved on in an hour because it was tiny, in the wake of everything.

I never liked Whole Foods, and I miss it so much.

Letter to my boy

August 6, 2019

Don’t forget about the dog poop-

(I warned you 
If things got bad
And they got bad
There would be repercussions.)

Scoop it, bag it,
Drop it into the
Starbucks dumpster.

And the dog,
Walk the dog-
not around the block-
The pavement burns her paws,
Take her to the park.
It’s not soccer season yet,
Bring a bag
Use it
Even if no one’s watching.

Check the website for your summer work,
Do it.

Email your coach,
Tell him what he wants to hear
and do that too.

Brush your teeth,
Don’t only eat food flavored
Or from a bag
Or glowing orange.

Respond to all the girls that sent you Snapchats.

Be kind to everyone that asks to
Follow you.
(I haven’t asked but I know

I remind you
to empty dishes,
walk the dog,
sweep a floor.

I don’t ask you
To follow or accept or friend me.

I keep our conversations about
The dishes in the sink.

I update you
About what
The world expects.

I text instead of call.

You talk to friends on FaceTime.
You laugh,
And swear, and listen.

I read books,
Ask for prayers from strangers,
And send you bullet points
so what I need from you
Is clear
And listed by
By priority.

-Call me.
-Do your homework.
-Clean the yard.

I check my phone
For your response
All night.

Not quite yet

April 7, 2014


It’s so hard

to love a teenager.

They don’t smell good,

either they stink of cheap deodorant

Or sweat

Or the urgent desire to fit in.

They snap at any little thing-

“how are you?”

“Where are you going?”

Don’t ask unless you know

They will not answer.

Or if they do,

It will cost a large slurpee.or ten dollars or


His voice will not

Belong to the one you love.

It will be lower

Or  delivered in a funny accent

Or it will reek with disdain, or impatience,

Or misinformation

Designed to distract you

From whatever it is they don’t want you

To know.

It is hard, and humbling, and

Impossible to love this

Big Footed, Deep Voiced, Mysterious, and Weird

Soul that lives with you..

It is Amazing when you see signs

They still love you.

They smile.

You swoon.

They laugh.

You swoon.

They listen.

You stop and try to remember what it was you  said.

You stop everything,

You turn off the phone, you step outside, you close your eyes.

You try to remember what you said.

While they discover the rest of the world outside of you.

I think that’s how it goes.

I think that’s how it goes,

I’m not there yet.