Sometimes I worry about me. The other day I accidentally stepped on my computer bag and then apologized to it because I thought it was my dog. Then I laughed and explained to it, “Oh, I thought you were the dog.” I explained to it. My bag and I had a moment, ya’ll. I should worry a little, right? Worry tends to sneak up on me now and then anyway. I’m amused at how sincere I am when I smile and toss out a casual “Either way, no worries” to a friend. I truly don’t want that friend to … [Read more...]

Trip and fall in front of your friends? Anytime that happens, the best thing to do is to just bounce right back up and keep on going. To the airport. Then leave the country. Maybe change your name. It’s not easy to save face after one of those inelegant face-plants. Been there, planted that. I think I once accidentally ate a little dirt. The last time I took a tumble there was no dirt-eating, but I think I do remember the faint taste of carpet. It was in a busy hallway at church. … [Read more...]

Have you ever had one of those world-tipping inner ear malfunctions? It’s about the worst kind of imbalance. It started small when it happened to me. My body kept trying to lean to one side. I felt like a leaning table at an old diner—like any minute somebody might come up behind me and try to stick a couple of sugar packets under my left foot. Then, as inner-ear disorders tend to do, the thing accelerated and suddenly the world was very…how can I describe it? Very “Star Ship Enterprise.” … [Read more...]

Have you ever counted the number of times in a week you talked about how tired you are? Like a weekly “I’m so tired” tally? It’s almost like it’s a competition. A no-way-you-could-be-as-tired-as-I-am contest. Always an ugh of a pyrrhic victory, that. Last week I was just sure I’d used up all the tired. My tired. Your tired. All the tireds. My tired was even tired of being tired. It was the kind of tired that feels really close to melting. Does that ever happen to you? When you feel … [Read more...]

I’ve always loved writing in coffee shops. It feels sort of like the atmosphere is…literary. Somehow. Plus the actual atmosphere. The air itself. Oh, that magnificent smell of coffee. I’m pretty sure the aroma alone caffeinates a writer’s brain and gets all the neurons a-firing. A friend gave me a coffee shop scratch-and-sniff bookmark once. No big surprise, it wasn’t the same. So at the most daunting deadlines—and especially when I’ve waited until the last-lastest of all the last-last … [Read more...]

“Lather, rinse, repeat.” If we actually follow the shampoo instructions to the letter, won’t we end up in a shower time-loop of some sort? Forever and ever pruny? I looked up some of the other more “out there” directions and found a can of spray paint with the warning label, “Do not spray in your face.” Well, well. Just when I thought I’d found a new makeup regimen. I found the perfect blow dryer instructions too. “Do not use while sleeping.” Um. Who’s doing that? Who? Also how? Granted, … [Read more...]

I can carry all those plastic bags. I’m sure of it. It required most of an entire cart to get them from the store to the car, but from the car to the house? My two skinny arms should work just fine, thanks. Those bags are going to leave marks across my hands and the backs of my skinny forearms, and those marks will last three days, but that’s fine. Because I will carry them. All. I can ignore the fact that my scrawny biceps are burning like a thousand suns because I’ve made it to the … [Read more...]

I did it. I knew I shouldn’t. But I did it anyway. I cut my own hair. Sigh. More than just trimming the bangs. I whacked off all kinds of rogue parts. Parts that are now much rougue-er than before. Every time I take the scissors into my own hands, I promise myself I’ll never do it again. That’s because I end up with stray strands and Spock bangs. And yet this is definitely no way to live long and prosper. When will I let this fully sink in? I am not good at cutting hair. When I try it, I’m … [Read more...]

That trash can, ya’ll. I’m sure I can do it. I’m always absolutely sure I can shove one more thing in there. It doesn’t matter that it’s already overflowing, or that I have to quick-catch some flyaway plastic wrap and wrangle an escaping tea bag resting on some soggy junk mail. I win if I can squeeze in one more thing. I guess the big question is: how many “one more things” can I shove in? My personal kitchen trash can is ever the clown car of wastebaskets. When it comes to squeezing in … [Read more...]