I bring you no thesis on the origins of your disrespect

I offer no evidence of its harms.

I refuse it because I choose to do so

I bring you my own standards for the culture we create between us.

I do not have to explain myself to you

But if you’re nice to me I would love to.


I am just sitting here, drinking my second coffee because I am not a morning person but the dogs both are, blearily thinking about not much, except that it is beginning to look like spring and I bet the grass on the side of the house that nobody spends any time in because a) there is nothing to do there and b) if you are a dog there are tasty cigarette butts to eat there that our neighbor graciously tosses over the fence (I know, I lay awake some nights thinking about the juxtaposition of those cigarette butts, and that grass) is growing like crazy and somebody ought to do something about it.

A thought welled gently into my mind: well but those kids already took care of it. And then my body buzzed with the shock it always feels when my mind has taken a dream literally and is disappointed with the allocation of goods and services between dream and reality.

Last night I dreamed that I was looking out the front window in my craft room, and two neighborhood kids rode up in their little power wheels ride on cars. They both had retro low rider corvettes, or the following story would not have been possible.


They waved at me, drove their cars summarily onto my lawn, and began to cut cookies across it. Shavings of grass flew out behind them as they went, because of course you see, the bottoms of their cars were lawnmowers. (God knows where they kept their feet, hopefully there is an inside cabin to those corvettes. I would remember from childhood but [great bitterness] nobody I knew and I were ever rich enough to see one of those vettes in real life, although I did run into a few of the jeeps while I was still under 40lb).

Having a glorious time of course, shredding 360 degrees in clouds of grass clipping, they cut the lawn into a beautiful pattern of circles. When all the grass was cut they waved and drove over to the next door neighbor’s yard, where I expect their grass dust will kick up no cigarette butts.

Now I am sitting here with my second cup of morning coffee, facing a world where none of this happened and furthermore is not going to. They say you’re supposed to be the change you want to see in the world, but sometimes that’s just not possible.

baby when you race today

February 10, 2018

The actual state of my living room (similarly destroyed kitchen and hallway not included).


Here is a closeup of the couch, poor thing. This is only like one square foot of it.

paw print

I am fighting a continually losing battle against squalor.


At least the grime generators are cute.

making waves across my time

February 9, 2018

This is how much I spent on books for school in 2017.


Each term as I collected course materials I sat around and lamented at the loss of cute shoes and haircut money, so I was not exactly surprised, but there is part of me that is still in awe that a book can cost so much. The average price I’ve paid for a textbook or course material, and I have scrounged most of them used, is 87.00. That is madness.

On the upside, I can imagine that my brain is now worth 980.38 more than it was in 2016, and this is not even taking into account the school books I was able to find at the library, or online for free. My brain has probably gained at least an even thousand dollars worth of book. Thinking about it in this way makes me feel like one of those accordion file folders that over its lifetime in the average office will expand to roughly 18 time its original size.

the lantern burn that easy

February 8, 2018

One of the course requirements of my Spanish classes was to make flashcards to share with my classmates; we had to use a photo or a drawing on one side, and the word in Spanish on the other. This was to help our brains soak up the knowledge in as many different ways as possible, and I loved it. Seeing what everyone else had drawn on flashcard day was always hilarious. I laughed more in Spanish class than I’ve laughed in every other class combined.

I was looking through these cards again this morning to keep the old brain sharp, and laughing at them all over again. Not every card is funny or even interesting, but some of them still crack me up. Without further introduction, for your viewing pleasure and educational benefit, here are a few of my faves:









Few things in life thus far have hurt my feelings as much as Ann Taylor beginning to market to me.

plastics and digital foils

January 30, 2018

At the ripe old age of thirty four I have obtained my first food handlers card. I am unreasonably proud.