All life is a road from the past to the future. And what the future will be depends only on us.

 Lately, it seems that my verbal communication skills have vanished. Oh, I can write just fine - big, grand sweeping verbose stories and literary limericks with the benefit of an easy-access delete key, but when I find myself talking, that’s another thing altogether. Words that aren’t even words come tumbling out of my mouth like a stampeding mass of verbal hysteria gang-rushing the exit sign during a fire, pushing and stomping until they make it to freedom, which results in me saying such things as, “Ooh, sloppy joe’s for dinner? That would be graat.” [silence for about 3 seconds] Jason : “Did you just say, “GRAAT”? Me : “What?…no. No, I don’t think so.” Jason : “Yeah, I think you did. You said graat.” Me : “No, I di-Hey, I like this song on the radio.” Jason : “Don’t change the subject. I want to know what the heck “graat” means.” Me : “Uh, I guess it’s the combination of ‘great’ and ‘grand.’ You know, ‘Dinner at the Palace? That would be GRAAT.’” Jason : “OK…Why would you even consi

 Dear Mr. Wuss in the Old Pickup, While I can understand your trepidation regarding travel, considering the huge load of snow that was dropped on us in the past few days, I am baffled by your decision to drive only 8 miles per hour. Taking into account the condition of your vehicle and the fact that you must be unable to afford a 99-cent ice scraper to remove even a 2-inch window for seeing the road, I felt pity for you. I can only assume that you are working 7 jobs and have no time to spare on such frivolous things like ice removal. Hence your truckbed full of snow, which conveniently blew out, how lucky for you. My windshield wipers felt otherwise. Perhaps also you cannot afford good tires and fear slipping off the road, like the numerous cars dotting the plowed landscape. Understandable. I commend you for not wanting to end up facing the wrong way on a giant heap of brown, chunky salt-snow. I am also familiar with the concept of “safety in numbers,” so the fact that you and a buddy

I’m drained. Happy and in a good mood, but wiped out. Work is stupid-crazy again and my creativity has taken a leave of absence. Yesterday I read this blog , then this one . I found them in this list . I feel like shedding my skin and replacing it with a soft, fleecy bathrobe and sleeping for 73 hours. I go home for lunch. (A wise move, since I am greeted upon my return with an enormous pile of work and a project manager hovering over my chair who screeches, “There you are! I’ve been stalking you!”) As soon as I step inside our house, I am calmer. In control of something, even if it’s only what I eat for lunch. As I sit at the kitchen table, I debate freelancing. I call Jason to tell him about a mallard and his lady friend who are sitting primly in our backyard. I take a quick picture of them and they fly away noisily. I hope they return. Our flowers are starting to bloom and I take pictures of them too, even though the peony buds aren’t open and the 90% dead rosebush is now only 80%

If I was in a fancy restaurant and a child started screaming and throwing things and running around, I would complain, and I would be very angry with the caregiver for allowing the child to become a part of my experience, requiring me to pay attention to it. One cannot simply ignore very loud noises. If I were in a fancy restaurant with extremely loud adults acting rambunctiously, I would certainly complain, and I would certainly hope that if they didn’t knock it off, they be kicked out. Why are you acting like there’s something wrong with expecting a certain type of behavior in certain public spaces? That’s absurd. If children were given the “right” to go wherever they wanted and act in any manner they felt appropriate — which would often be light years different from most adults view of appropriate, because small children don’t yet have to ability to reason, which is the backbone of a civilized society– then it would cause many adults to feel that they were not allowed in public plac

From UNICEF: This year alone, more than 500,000 women will die during pregnancy or childbirth. That’s one woman missing every minute of every day. We call these women “missing” because their deaths could have been avoided. In fact, 80 per cent of maternal deaths could be averted if women had access to essential maternal health services. We know where and how these women are dying, and we have the resources to prevent these deaths. Yet, maternal mortality is still one of the most neglected problems internationally.” Via UN Dispatch and Feministing.

 (Rant alert). The ever-brilliant Renee over at Womanist Musings recently wrote a post about how biology was not destiny. I can’t hope to explain succinctly so I suggest reading it yourself. Thing is this. My biology does make me better at one or two jobs than my husband. He couldn’t have gotten pregnant. He couldn’t have given birth. He couldn’t have breastfed our baby. But that’s basically it. Now, I know there are one or two jobs that are “allied” with those things. So, for example, by being the lactating partner, certainly in much of the first year, it meant I couldn’t be apart from my baby for too long (unless I wanted what was for me extra, harder work in the form of pumping). This meant in turn, that it made sense for me to take as much maternity leave as possible. (Aside: I am not anti the idea of “parental leave” rather than “maternity leave” at all but I do think discussions about it do need to take breastfeeding into account and often they don’t.) That meant I ended up doing

Welcome to the July edition of the Carnival of Feminist Parenting. This month as always, the blogosphere has been awash with some really excellent writing from feminists, parents and of course all those wonderful people who are part of both groups. So as usual, instead of me waffling, let’s get straight to the interesting stuff! —– Children’s Rights and Mother’s Rights     Grace Fletcher-Hackwood kicks us off with an article at the F-Word demanding an end to financial discrimination against young people.     Chally has a post taking apart an advertising campaign which stated that “working mothers are bad mothers”.     The Independent on Sunday has an article about the detention of children in Britain, calling immigration centres “no place for the innocent”. Adoption     BlackKittenRoar talks about how it feels to be told you’re going to be “sent back” and the effect this has on adopted children. Pregnancy and Birth     Brandann Hill-Mann has an article about the bad implementation of c

 Like most human beings, we have a great deal going on in our lives right now. Some things I can write about, others not so much. But here’s something: I just returned from a glorious week at the 2021 Heartland Film Festival in Indiana where I always come home inspired and renewed. So inspired, in fact, that this morning, I finally did it. I finally hit “send” on my first query letter for my new novel, PARTING GIFTS. I never imagined clicking a button could be so hard. Releasing your words to the world after four years of writing and rewriting and crying and rewriting again leaves you feeling vulnerable and open… and best of all, excited. There is a great deal of possibility out there. For those of you who enjoy contemporary fiction, I’d like to give you a little taste. Here’s a quick synopsis: PARTING GIFTS is the story of sisters, Catherine, Anne, and Jessica. Broken by their past and scarred by their emotionally absent parents, the sisters search for love, acceptance, and worth, oft

Memories It’s that time again. Time to watch the candidates go at it. Time for everyone to take sides. Time for those so inclined to declare, “I’m right. You’re wrong.” When we’re in the heart of an election year, a little pit grows in my stomach. (You can’t see it, though, because it’s crowded out by the Oreos.) I just don’t like the way it all plays out. Never have. Facebook gives us a new insight into everyone’s political leanings, too. It’s the perfect forum for posting those sweeping “All conservatives are (fill in the blank)” and “All liberals are (fill in the blank).” Time for the arguments to begin. I can almost hear keyboards across the nation screaming… “I’M RIGHT!!” “NO, I’M RIGHT!!” “NO, I’M RIGHT!!” And just like Pee Wee, I want to scream, “I KNOW YOU ARE, BUT WHAT AM I??” Just to alleviate the tension a bit. It makes me sad. Truly, it does. And do I have a good answer? Nope. I just feel in my heart that we’re missing the point. And what do I think the point is? Love. Acce

 It’s a strange feeling to know that he is dead. The man who caused so much suffering, so much hatred, so much turmoil, mistrust, and grief. His life was about ending the lives of others whose views he could not understand or tolerate. And now, Osama bin Laden’s own end has come. After a long and arduous wait, America is breathing a collective sigh of relief. My boys are celebrating. It’s a “Black Ops” kind of day for them — hunt down the bad guy, shoot to kill, win the game. But the game is far from won. I am not sad that he is gone. I dreamt last night of the widows and widowers of 9/11. Of the children growing up without parents, of the mothers and fathers who lost their own, of the friends, the families, the numerous loved ones left behind to grapple with such pain and devastation. I will never claim to know the magnitude of their loss. And if today’s headline news gives them some sense of closure, then I would never begrudge them that tiny slice of peace. But in my heart of hearts

 Ever hear agents, editors or reviewers say "make me care". How do you make someone care about your story and the characters in it? Kat will show you a variety of ways to get readers to care. This workshop includes lessons on word choices and grammar, ways to use sensory imagery, body language, showing and telling and emotion to connect with readers. Kat explains how to present characters with clear, concise goals that readers will root for and hooks that keep readers on the edges of their seats. Got a story or scene that you can't seem to get readers to care about? Kat's workshop will help you identify what's missing and develop ways to hook those readers into caring as much about your characters as you do. Pacing Pride versus Pace Robbers Last chance to register for this brand new class! Without proper pace, your stories can sag, drag or just fade away. Proper pace depends on knowing how to make your reader anticipate the next scene, and when to give your reader