I don’t ever want to be anything but honest. So here is an honest story about my struggle with the dishes. The overflowing sink full of soap suds disguize the patterns that paint the beautiful color and the true peaceful and happy emotions the dirty dishes could posses. Inside the tub lay hidden knifes ready… Continue reading Doing the dishes.
I generally don’t like pictures of myself, let alone candid photos. I get a twist in my gut of self-consciousness and usually delete it upon viewing. I know I really should kick the habit, but admit it, nobody truly loves every selfie that they take. Recently however, Munch has learned to steal my phone and… Continue reading When little eyes are watching.
Writing all of the words! But whats this? No blog posts since a few months ago? That is because I have been spending the entierty of November neglecting laundry, dishes, blogging, art and TBR books. Oh and Munch (haha, but not really Munch, because, you know, he is a human child, and even if you… Continue reading My November.
During monsoon season in Arizona, you can see a rain cloud coming towards you as if it were a living thing searching for life among the dead and dry landscape. It is as if the cloud is tied to the earth by hundreds of little grey strings that float through the sky and are being pulled… Continue reading What is your rain like?
I can’t seem to start this blog correctly. So I am just going to start it. READY SET GO! I have had my ups and downs this summer. I was so fortunate to be able to visit with my wonderful family, attend my grandmother’s memorial in California and also play gypsy for a few weeks, which was… Continue reading Screen Lock then Home Button
Dear Munch, It has been a while since I have written you a letter, and even though I have been taking a hiatus from social media, and my blogging seems to be scarcer than water in a desert (I blame technology for that one), I was struck by quite a miraculous moment today that I… Continue reading The appearance of empathy
When I was young, we had a dog named Chelsea. She was a beautiful white American Eskimo Spitz and was my parents first “baby”. Chelsea lived to be 24 in human years, which, lets face it, was more than any human expected to commit to any pet, even one that is loved. Throughout those years,… Continue reading That Pink Stuff