Christmas rebels

All hail the quiet rabble rousers. A purposeful oxymoron, yes. Christmas has become a cottage industry. Have you noticed? (And yes, that rhetorical question drips with sarcasm.) A few of us have. Or so it seems, this year. I am not feeling anti-Christmas or missing the magic. The birth of Jesus Christ, whether you believe…

Giving thanks through gritted teeth

This post is for those of you feeling like you might just be from the island of misfit toys this Thanksgiving. If you’ve never felt this way during the start of the holiday season, all the more reason to give thanks. And if you’re feeling that way this holiday season, a friendly reminder from little…

Motherhood and apple pie

Here in the States, where we are about to celebrate Mother’s Day, we have a folksy saying that involves motherhood and apple pie. When describing things quintessentially American, motherhood and apple pie are about as sacred as it gets, besides our flag. The saying has been toyed with over the years, its meaning morphing to…

Picking up the scattered pieces

There are pieces of me scattered everywhere. Scattered parts of myself I dropped along the way. Some in fear. Some from lack of use. I am being asked to pick up those pieces. To follow the trail of breadcrumbs I left for myself. I guess the wisest parts of me knew I’d be back. That…

Coming full circle at Christmas

We had come full circle in the space of two years. There we were, on the couch. I was giving a hug filled with love. It was gratefully accepted. And before you get too excited, my dog was the grateful recipient. Bailey. My faithful companion. My shadow. The one who has perfected the art of…

That something inside

“I may not know how to do this but something inside me does.” What a mantra. For those of us who were raised with a critical parent, a voice of self doubt, the first to desert ourselves when the screaming meanies of the world attack, as they are wont to do. I was raised to…

Ring a ding ding. It’s your nemesis calling.

If it’s the holidays, that means I am going to my yurt. Since I don’t  have a real one, I’m going to the yurt I keep in my mind to escape from my nemesis—Little Miss Perfect in the Pumpkin Patch, as I like to call her. As we approach the Thanksgiving holiday in the States,…

Learning to love my fellow man: an experiment at the amusement park

Think you have it all together? You’re calm, zenlike, a true Bodhisattva? You’re a good Christian, loving your fellow man even when it’s hard? I’ll believe that, my friend, when I see you maintain your Teflon halo at the amusement park. Yes, that’s right. Try keeping that baby glowing while riding the rapids or spinning…

When did comfort food start making us uncomfortable?

On my loneliest days, I wish for my mother’s chop suey. This wish may sound odd to you, particularly if you know much about me. I’m not Asian. I come from a family of bland meals where salt and pepper were considered spices. I believe my mother even put Kitchen Bouquet in her recipe, which…

I remember flags waving . . . again

I’ve not yet rerun any blog posts, but given this is the Independence Day holiday week in the States, and I am celebrating in our nation’s capital, it is a perfect time to share again a remembrance of flags waving. Happy Fourth to my stateside compadres–and a wish for a wonderful week with friends and…

A chip off the old block

An old friend and I had lunch today. That in itself is unremarkable. As was our marking of Father’s Day here in the States. Our fathers passed within a few years of each other, as did our mothers. And her only sibling passed away around the time my sister was diagnosed with cancer. We became…

The perfectly imperfect mother

I wear my mother’s perfume from time to time. And when I say her perfume, I don’t mean the scent she wore. I mean the scent my well-meaning father bought for her, despite the fact that I never, ever smelled perfume on my mother in my life. Perfume gave her a headache. Something you’d think…