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Witcherature

  There I was in my family’s half-finished basement, surrounded by my friends. It was the mid-1970s at the end of October, in a small town in Ohio and my mom was throwing me an epic Halloween party. We had just finished a game where we sat in a circle on the old rug that barely protected our bottoms from the cold linoleum basement floor. My mom started telling us a scary story that involved body parts and, as the story went along, she would pass the ‘body parts” around the circle. It was pitch dark in the room and we could only use our hands, not our eyes. Ice cold hands (water that had been frozen in rubber gloves, a heart (peeled tomato), and eyes (peeled grapes) were solemnly passed around. My friends and I were around eight years old at the time, so we tried to laugh off our fear, tried to remind ourselves it wasn’t really body parts that were being passed around, but I think we were all relieved when the story was over, the lights turned on, and cupcakes started getting passed...
Recent posts

The End of Self-Doubt

  I've been thinking a lot about my career. I have been everything from a financial controller and business consultant to an artist and now a writer. I've spent the past couple of years developing my writing chops and figuring out what I'm going to next. Lately, some very exciting opportunities have come up and with them, the old demons of fear, self-doubt, and self-sabotage. As I've aged, the patterns of my past are becoming clearer-just before I am about to level-up in my career or business, I pull back. I use the easy excuses of wanting to care for my family, to be home with my daughter. Such excuses sound so honorable. And they are. I convince myself that I am not walking away from an opportunity because I am afraid. No sir. I am walking away because my family needs me. It makes it easy to say no when opportunities arise. Yet plenty of woman are able to raise children and have successful careers. Why didn't I believe I could too? Letting go of my art business in...

The Seed Library

I am standing in front of the old, wooden card catalog of the Washougal Library and am reminded of the card catalogs of my past. The first was in my elementary school library where we learned how to look up books using the Dewey Decimal System. I remember the sound the drawers made as I slowly and carefully pulled them out-a quiet creak of wood in a silent library. Then the smell would fill the air. It was the smell of old paper and the typewriter ink the librarian used to carefully catalog the books.             Now, I look up my books on a computer but today I am, once again, standing in front of the card catalog. I pull out the drawer and am surprised that the sound and the smell are still there, even though I am standing in a library 2,455 miles away from the one in my memory. The drawer no longer holds cards listing a multitude of books to be read, instead it holds small packets of seeds.      ...

Building a Cookbook Library

I collect cookbooks.  I know I could look-up just about any recipe online, but I can't give up my cookbooks. I love sitting down with a stack of cookbooks and planning a holiday meal or dinner party. Sometimes, if I'm feeling bored or anxious, I'll pull a favorite cookbook off the shelf and just read it. I love the photos. I love to daydream about making the dishes. Sometimes they inspire me so much I get up and bake something. To me, cookbooks are so much better than cooking blogs. Is it just me or have they gotten impossible to navigate? First there's the pop-up ads that always seem to crash the website at the very moment I'm rushing to check how long the brownies are supposed to bake. By the time I reload the website, I have burnt bricks of chocolate. I also hate the long, drawn-out stories before I get to the actual recipe. Don't get me wrong. I love a good story behind a recipe. Heck, when I share my recipes, I usually give you a story. What I hate about mo...

Hacking My Way Through COVID

  If you are wondering where I’ve been, the answer is locked in away in my master suite, battling Covid-19. That’s right, I am no longer a card-carrying member of the NOVID crowd. Which is a bitter disappointment as I really was starting to think I had some sort of superhuman immunity to it. But, despite vaccines, mask-wearing, and handwashing I caught it. My husband and daughter had colds earlier in January. They tested negative for Covid so when I came down with cold-like symptoms, I assumed I caught their colds. I tested negative but a few days later, as I laid in bed shivering and worse than ever, a small voice said I just might want to test again and sure enough I had it. I texted down to my husband and was promptly locked away, like a princess in a tower. My first thought was that I would spend my isolation writing the next Great American Novel. Or maybe I would use the time to set goals and plan for the new year? But after two days of not being able to focus on anythin...