I’m not a very sentimental person. I’ve shoved heirlooms into closets, squirreled away family photos and pitched old love letters in the recycling bin, all in the name of chaos control. Of course, afterwards I’m usually filled with two-slices-of-cake-and-three-glasses-of-champagne level regret. But that doesn’t curtail my enthusiasm for tyrannical tidying. The exception: Christmas decorations. Some … Continue reading
For most people, the holidays call to mind shining lights, steaming mugs of cocoa, gingerbread humanoids, and feasts that call for elastic waistbands. For me, they conjure up the memory of my friend sailing out of our second-story window. Let me explain. A few days after Thanksgiving, my mom left 12-ish-year-old me and my best … Continue reading
Kathleen (a.k.a. Kathy) here with a little real-life mystery. A few years ago, I went to the mailbox and pulled out the usual jumble of 80% post-consumer-content papers. Bills. Statements. An assortment of catalogs. One #10 envelope caught my eye: a letter from the Multnomah County Circuit Court. I tore it open in the driveway … Continue reading
Kathleen (a.k.a. Kathy) here, coming at you from the fast and furious first days back at school. (For my kids, not me. Although I do love a good pencil case.) In last month’s post, I mentioned that the secret sauce in my recipe for sanity includes time parked in front of the television. After a … Continue reading
When I do a reading or other author-y event, I tend to hear the same questions: “Where do you get your inspiration?” “Is Maggie based on a real person?” “Where’s the bathroom?” I think my favorite is, “With work, author duties, and a family, how do you not go crazy?” I laugh maniacally at that … Continue reading
I tend to avoid personal growth like the plague. Or pleated pants. If something’s going to inspire soul-searching, introspection or the pain of change, I’m out. But Vickie’s great post about Twitter got me thinking, which led to that dreaded introspection—and a discovery. I’m afraid of social media. I’m terrified of Twitter, petrified of Pinterest, … Continue reading
O Typo, I know ye well. You are a constant companion. A feared adversary. The source of “send now” trepidation. The raison d’etre of my delete key. The typo and I go way back, all the way to tenth grade, the year my father insisted I learned to type. My father is A Man of … Continue reading
