Cardinal Directions

Cardinal Directions Once upon a time, at a staff meeting, a colleague boasted (was it a boast?) that she didn’t know her directions. She rolled her eyes as if she was too busy to know such a thing, as if it was below her. I was struck by her pride in not knowing, and struck... Continue Reading →

Thinks, Thanks, Thongs

Time for a little nostalgia, and I can't look back at one item, without reminiscing about the other.  Thongs, the kind we used to wear on our feet, that evolved into something else, well, the word did anyway, and blood. Bleeding to be exact. Menses. Messy menses. And the whole bit. So here we go. When... Continue Reading →

Glass in Our Tortillas

It made for a pretty sweet parenting pleasure to arrive home to a house where I could see the vacuum wheel tracks running across the carpet like directional signs saying 'This way to clean!' And to smell the fresh red chile pork in the kitchen. 'Are we at your mom's?' I asked the girls' dad.... Continue Reading →

Baby, It’s Cold Inside – or – Being Trapped by My Boss in the Walk-In

“And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” So, on one of  the first nights of my first job, outside of babysitting or cleaning houses, when I was all of fourteen years old, I was trapped inside a walk-in cooler by the chef at a popular restaurant in Detroit. A... Continue Reading →


Yes is never alone in meaning yes No means yes Stop means yes Silence means yes Go away means yes I’m sorry means yes Not again means yes I’m afraid means yes Maybe later means yes Please don’t means yes I don’t want to means yes I’ll call the police means yes I have a... Continue Reading →

Power Tools

for Susan Tweit It is September 15.  The sun seems to have hit snooze more often than I did. It is particularly lazy today, and has, perhaps, hesitated at the tree line across the street for hours. Not too subtle a reminder, let me tell you, that days are getting shorter, and worse yet, there... Continue Reading →

Raising Feminists, part 2

When I was pregnant with my girls, and not knowing they were girls, I hoped they would be. Girls. For one reason. I thought  it would be easier to raise female feminists than to raise male feminists. That's my truth. Not proud. Just is. I wasn’t up to what I believed would be too difficult... Continue Reading →

Raising Feminists

I didn't know I was doing it until I had done it. It's like going on a new hike, a bit of a mystery. You leave the trail head with a little trepidation. Can I do this? You've looked at the map. It makes sense. (Always a worry.) You wonder how steep the climbs will... Continue Reading →

Celebrating Smart Women

for my girls, even Riana, who doesn't like poetry The Cranberry Line Follow the cranberry line of dawn, go home reach far, the moon is only a lost star looking for sunrise, for the saffron tide; waves like Aurora’s children on the verge of morning, stretch and rub their eyes. Be a poet. Be that... Continue Reading →

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