News & Events

I have some readings coming up!  I do hope you can join me.  Info can be found HERE.  Chapbooks, Mother Muse, and Motherly Musings books will be available for purchase.

Gimme Shelter

What have you written lately?
When are you going to post on your blog again?
Any freelance pieces coming out soon?

These are the questions that I am hearing quite often lately.  I don't have any answers, really. Truth is, I am having a hard time writing.

"Writer's block?" my mother asks.  But it's not.  It's as if the simple, driving need to write has suddenly slipped away.  I come home from work or finish my tasks around the house, sit in my wicker rocker, and stare into space.  A voice in my head says, fervently, "Get up. Go write."

But I shoo the voice away like a buzzing fly and pick up a magazine or book.  Sometimes, I break my own rule of No TV During Daylight Hours and sneak a peek at the boob tube, eager for a rerun of  "Celebrity Ghost Stories."

--------------------------------------------------------

Lately, I've been experimenting with new recipes:  low fat cheesecake ice cream, Cajun spice rub for meaty pieces of catfish, green chutney with parsley, mint, and lemon, Cioppino with muscles and shrimp and fat clams, coconut cassava cake.

I vaguely mention to my family that I should start a food blog or better yet a podcast.  The kids say that I should call it "Coffee with Christine," and anyone who knows me well will laugh, because I'm really a tea drinker.

------------------------------------------------------------

I heard the Rolling Stones' "Gimme Shelter" in the car today.  I had the window down and laughed (with joy? regret?  shame?) as I pictured myself: Thirty-eight year old mom of two rocks out like a crazy teen to the Stones at full blast on a perfect spring day in a mini-van with a load of groceries in the back.  At home she has a binder full of new recipes to test and a rocking chair calling her name.

Oh a storm is threatn'ing

My very life today.

If I don't get some shelter

I'm gonna fade away.

-Mick & Keith

If the shoe fits. . .

All winter I  struggled to find a pair of slippers that would fit and last through the season.  The first pair I bought were warm and cozy and cute.  Unfortunately, they fell apart rather quickly.  By early winter I had lost the lining and had to keep the sole on with bright green duct tape.

Next, I found a discounted pair of slipper-booties.  They, too, were perfect, or seemed to be.  But they disintegrated in record time, and eventually they had to be tossed. They were comfortable and trendy but certainly not durable.

For the last couple of months I've essentially been slipper-less, and it has thrown me, as odd as that sounds.  I need something besides my socks between my feet and the cold, cold floor.  I need to feel firmly planted, not sliding and unbalanced.  I need the comfort and stability that slippers give my feet during these hard, cold Western New York winters.

Recently, I've been shuffling around in multiple socks or old tennis shoes. When my husband isn't home I slip into his too-big slippers that are warm with a firm rubber sole.  But they make me trip over my own feet.

On Sunday I found a pair of Croc-like shoes at Ikea, and I snapped them up.  We're coming into spring now, so I thought I could wear them for a bit with socks then wear them sock-less when the weather warmed up.

 They don't fit.

By the end of the day yesterday my feet hurt, and my toes pinched, and I felt unmoored again.  How can a simple thing like HOUSE SLIPPERS, for God's sake, make me insane all winter and spring?  How can finding the right fit be so damn hard?  Why did my slipper conundrum throw me into near tears?  I felt so much like Cinderella's step sisters: desperate to make those stupid shoes work and willing to cut off a heel to make it happen.

Today I went to the big box store that everyone loves to hate and found a pair of house shoes that, I hope, will last at least longer than a few weeks.  They are goofy and large and not very trendy at all, but they fit like glass slippers--perfectly.

This post isn't all about shoes, of course. But sometimes the things in life that are only held together by duct tape and hope are too complicated to write about while slippers, well, they are easy.  They can be fixed with a few bucks and a little determination.

If only everything were that simple.

Life is Sweet

For flutter, a wedding blessing, in song....

I wish you many joyous days of happiness. May life together always be sweet, like honey on the tongue.

I hope you always remember that each one of you is a celestial body, with a halo slightly askew, yet infinity perfect.

And, in the end, no matter how tough life might get you both will be alright. Always.

You burn bright, a star born from the sun. But you, my dear, will never burn out.

Congratulations, flutter. xoxo

Thanks, Emily, for organizing.

It's a Small World

The tiny and hidden fascinate me. When I walk, eyes lowered, it isn't that I am missing the big picture. It's that I am looking at the small microcosms that are everywhere but are often overlooked or dismissed:

The marching ants carrying breadcrumbs to their queen.

The tiny, darting, silvery slippery fish swimming in and out of coral crevices.

The broken shards of pottery and glass where a house once stood centuries ago.

The minuscule pebbles and rocks that make the gravel road.

These are the worlds (for they indeed are whole, wide worlds) that have attracted me my whole life. When I look at a garden I of course see the large landscape of colors and textures, but I also see the ladybug working its way up a rose stem. I don't just see the wide expanse of the ocean as I stand on a beach; I also see the the grains of sand, the sea shells, the tiniest starfish.

I can see details in people, too. I will notice your new earrings or that you have trimmed your hair. I will be struck by the catch in your voice and know that your heart aches. I will see the twinkle in your eye and know you are about to tell me something amazing. I will see the tiny lines around the corners of your smile that tell me that you are tired, strained. I will sense the smallest twitch of your eye, and I will know you are anxious or upset.

It is, of course, a problem sometimes, in the practical sense. I bump into things frequently as I walk, head bowed, looking for bottle caps or interesting little objects that other people step over or kick aside. I can utterly forget the time when I am lounging in the grass watching a bee lap nectar from a nearby flower. I can overly prod a person to share their hidden feelings when they aren't prepared to discusses them with me. I can miss a sunset while contemplating initials carved in a tree trunk.

This attention to the small details of my environment made me want to create tiny little worlds myself. For a while I became obsessed with making terrariums. In one sits a smiling Buddha and a sea shell with a mini succulent I have no name for. I even have a tiny little glass necklace filled with live moss that I have to water, carefully, every month with a damp q-tip. And I couldn't bear to see our neglected goldfish swim in an empty bowl, so I filled it with a small rainbow cave and a blue female figurine to keep him company. Now he has his own mini space to hide in and a plastic friend to blow bubbles with.

And isn't that what we all want anyway? A space of our own, no matter how small? Don't we all want to be seen even when we feel insignificant and tiny in this large, crazy world?

Earthy Crunchy

I made up this recipe today, and it was very, very tasty.

What's in the Cupboard Quinoa Granola

1/4 cup seseme seeds (black or white or a combo)

1/4 chia seeds (black or white)

2 cups rolled oats

1/2 cup uncooked quinoa (any variety)

1/4 melted virgin coconut oil (I think butter would work as well)

1/4 cup + 1 tablespoon pure maple syrup

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees and line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Combine the dry ingredients in a large bowl. In a separate bowl mix the syrup and coconut oil and then toss with the dry ingredients.

Spread the granola on the baking sheet and bake for one hour. Let it cool then break the granola into small pieces. At this point you can add nuts, dried fruits, or shredded coconut, or just eat it as is.

Enjoy!

Sunday

The Superbowl, without my father, is painful for me.

I can get through Christmas and his birthday, but the Big Game? It slays me.

I don't like football, really. I didn't really even like it all that much when I was young. But he did. It was the only sport he would watch, the 49ers the only team he would root for. So, of course, we all watched, we all cheered. And Superbowl parties, whether the Niners were in the game or not, happened every year. Now, without him, Superbowl is just another Sunday, and the ordinariness of it all squeezes my heart.

Yesterday there were no commercials and wings for me. No party invites or half time shows. It was just another quiet night. I went to bed before 10pm and had a fitful, restless, and anxious sleep. My dreams were filled with fog, literally, like the fog that hovers over San Francisco Bay on cool, winter evenings with the light from the Snow Moon filtering through the mist.

San Francisco