Friday, February 28, 2014

People In Your Neighborhood

take a seat and read!

This short film is 100% worth your fifteen minutes. Absolutely mesmerizing and human. As I Am resonates deeply with me because what I am most concerned with lately is what lack of connection- a human network of ancestors and community and support- is doing to us.

Listen to an interview with some writers from my publisher Shebooks on NPR

This essay resonated with me, I really like the voice and is just a good, brain biting read. Dear Friend, from My Life I write To You In Your Life

This is a very informative interview with Dr. Lustig who gave a well known lecture 'Sugar, the Bitter Truth' and has a book out. I am really working to balance my blood sugar better.

It's soooo, so good to read about people becoming activists, even if they are taking off their shirts to do so. I loved this article on Femen, a new protest group formed in the Ukraine. And if you are going to be naked, that girl's breasts are absolutely beautiful. I guess the fact that I comment on that is both the benefit and problem of using nudity for attention- it got attention, and here I am talking about it, but in the next breath talking about breasts. 

I just very happily discovered  Civil Coping Mechanisms, a 'selection of innovative literature and poetry'

Do you know Ram Dass? I watched a documentary about him on Netflix and then read about him online, finding his website. Try this: Dying is Absolutely Safe

My newest Budget Fashionista is How To Dress Like A Hipster On The Cheap -gives you links to hipster clothing on a poor man's budget

My friend Danielle writes a beautiful mother comfort for a friend who lost her baby, Solace

I have an enormous respect and interest in Hanna Rosin, I read everything she writes. She has a sharp, embracing intelligence and her writing is always brimming with important news and ideas that she puts together in a cohesive way. This essay Letting Go of Asperger's is a personal one about her son.

In Purple Clover, Aliza Worthington writes about her experience with anti-depressants.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

love is captured for a moment

my cells, your cells, for what we are we are together
my heart, your heart, for what we love we love forever.

Monday, February 24, 2014

An Easy Way To Make A Difference: Help Save The Bees

My friend Dena Rash Guzman, the poet and entrepreneur extraordinaire, has taken a deep abiding interest in the plight of bees- and the resulting, devastating effect on our entire planet- and turned it into a mighty advocacy. Meet the Lusted Road Honey Co. & Pollinator Conservatory fundraiser on Indiegogo!!!

This is no bullshit. This is a real, serious and informed effort to start a bee colony conservatory on the beautiful Oregon lands where Dena lives. Look, all the important, persuasive information is on the site, as well as a beautiful video and photos of the conservatory. 

There are also some truly awesome packages as perks for the varying levels of contributors. 

Dena has a broad reaching plan which includes, among other things, hiring disabled people to work at the bee conservatory for a livable wage. There is really a reason for every one of us to care about this. Take a look!!

Thursday, February 20, 2014

In Memory of Blaine

the jackal and coyote and starve eyed owl
wet footed on the bank of our preserved town.
the moon rises silently and full,
a crease left where pressure once was.

i think of this boy, he was nineteen. my god.
my oldest son also nineteen, his friend
beautiful boy, dark long lashes, dark tousled hair.
now we know-

what do we know, again?
this boy, he was nineteen. 
his older brothers, they died in a drunk driving crash.
now we know he- 

what do we know, again?
this boy, he was nineteen
made himself beholden to those two losses,
curled up tight in the crash debris.

the stars penetrate, bright stabs of pain
his mother, his father. his mother, his father.
their mother, their father. their mother, their father.
let us rest in what we know, with only those words.

let us rest with them for a moment.
do they have to be so alone?
they had seven boy children, now they have four.
what do we know, again?

four children left with their brothers cells.
do those cells pull forever to be together,
is that the bond of family?
is it some kind of electronic tug-

this boy, he was nineteen.
he said goodnight to his brothers, and took his life.
took his life
where did he take it?

my son pulled his phone from his pocket,
shaking and sweating and crying.
look, this is what we were saying to each other,
he told us.

these are the things we told each other.
we answered him evenly as if his life depended on it-
love is the only thing that you could do
and you did.

love is the only thing to do now-
here it is.

i love you.
i send messages to people i've never met.
i tell them i am so sorry. i say i love you.
what do we know, again?

i tell them i love them.
they sit on the trembling edges of this town
with their children tucked to the wing.
coyotes and jackals and owls flutter 

wet beaked and sharp toothed.
i wish i could take them to my heart 
and feed them like baby birds.
this boy, he was nineteen.

Wednesday, February 19, 2014

tween spirit

Lola is a tween, a magical unicorn creature rarely glimpsed in this life, a time of her girlhood that is excruciatingly valuable, so that mindful parents keep an eye out for the scalpers, the ones who would pin her down, cut off the horn and Instagram their grinning faces with her white curled horn clutched in their hands.

A tween girl is a mighty vortex, an eye of the storm where little girl meets teen so that there is a closet full of American Girl dolls, each carefully dressed and tucked into bed, while the young girl who put them there now has armpit hair and a shapeless cotton bra. Some tweens have already been face planted into mimicking teenage behavior, either older siblings or coarse, neglectful parents or some damage has been done to create a driving need for the dress up of maturity: a focus on sexuality and boys, fierce verbal attacks on other girls, makeup and shaving and a committed ironic stance that coming from the baby face of a tween can break your old, embittered heart in two.

In our culture there are protective barriers in the physical world of tweens, in parents, teachers, even older protective siblings, but few protective barriers against the growing awareness- usually, most damagingly, without guidance- of our cultural mirrors for young girls. One minute the mirror tells them 'innocent' 'sweet' 'protected' 'funny' 'smart' 'charming', and then the mirror begins to say 'flirt' 'pretty' 'feminine' 'sexy' and confusingly, 'vulnerable'. Girls begin to sense certain older boys or even an occasional grown men looking at them with open interest, and a panicky, throat fluttering feeling has in its tiny wind stirred center a tiny thrill. Open Vogue or Mademoiselle or Elle and the ads with gap mouthed, mime panting, bent over, oil soaked, wet haired, lingerie clad girls often look, in face and form, as if they were 12 years old. They are long and lean and without curves except for the barest hint of breast buds, and their faces have just- you could see it go!- lost the fat pads of adolescence. On television you hear and see women fussing over these young girls as if they were purebred dogs to dress and parade. Mothers begin to project: she's not going to be fat, is she? Oh God, she has my nose… it was so hard to have that nose… Why does she always have wear her hair in that ridiculous clump? Fathers begin to withdraw: can you still sit on my lap? Are you still my little girl? Can I still tease you? And girls begin in these ways to be aware of their sexuality, a thing not yet freed from the frost, but that underneath the thin film of ice, feels the sun all the same.

Some of Lola's friends have become aware of their bodies in a critical, appraising way that so far, we have avoided. She does not, as a friend recently did, scorn the spread of her thigh as she crosses her leg, and she does not, as another friend has, wonder often what boys think she is pretty. She is still unconsciously accepting of herself. When she turned 11 and pre-puberty began, we had a handful of talks, long meandering talks, where anything that needed to come up and be looked at could. So we talked about it all and I did my best to be unselfconscious, open and accepting because this is what I want for my daughters. I did my best to be cheerful about it all, because this is also what I want for my daughters. Shame attaches itself like a barnacle to the consciousness of young people, and for a young girl, shame attached to your body or womanhood will never quite be shaken off or grown out of, but remains like a shadow twin, something we can acknowledge and write about and expose but that ultimately affects our experience of being female in a negative way. Something that I do not want for my daughters. Taking note of all I need to explain to her is exhausting at times, but her expressions of gratitude and relief later always let me know that it is is important. If I do not translate the way that culture transmogrifies and distorts female sexuality, no one will. If I do not explain why some mothers shame their daughters for their pimples or weight, no one will. If I do not point out how girls at this age can lose themselves- their brilliant, shining, energetic and awesome selves- to the ultimately backfiring, boring and reductive hunting of male attention, no one will. If I do not express how almost any way that a new healthy sexuality presents itself is normal, no one will. Young boys are often made to understand that masturbating is normal, for example, but these subjects are still often taboo for young girls, creating at a crucial moment a severe divide between men and women's equality.

The place where childhood girlhood innocence meets the first expression of teenage womanhood is brief and can be terribly tender and beautiful. Slumber parties of shrieking, laughing and scavenger hunts still end in the girls tangled together in sleeping bags, snoring, but they also can contain deep in the night whispered conversations about french kissing and getting your period. Tween time is when, in a healthy, open environment of support, a young girl can safety explore these new realities. Keeping our daughters safe from the unicorn poachers cannot mean cutting them off from magazines, the internet, T.V.- of course, those boundaries have to be decided on, and in my family we have them in place. But most of all it is the parent guide who can help the girl interpret the reflection of herself she is newly seeing that keeps her 'safe', meaning, keeps her from passively accepting those views. Ultimately the true beauty of tweenage years is in the choice to begin to define yourself.

Monday, February 17, 2014

My Article on The Broad Side About Vaccinations:

Please come read and comment on my article up at The Broad SideI spent a lot of time researching and putting together what I believe is a very important story. Part of the story itself is how the press completely ignored the entire thing because of, as happened with the scientists themselves, the fear that public will react by not vaccinating. In other words, we are having our news curated for us because maybe we aren't smart enough to understand what to do with the information we are being told.

Read and comment and if you think it's worth talking about, please share. Let's get talking.

Sunday, February 16, 2014

this profile is no longer available

the detritus of online profiles long left behind
faces you don't recognize,
selfies from an old life.
smoking you denied,
the time you put up a half naked photo
the CIA will see if they google your name.
a tiny dot dot dot that left things in air
the sense of everything in a vortex,
everything swallowed by the maw of net
in the ocean rising above our heads.

the long month you only posted photos of your body
in shapes you named with curse words
or parts of the body 'vulva' and 'vascular anus', 
the way your employer realizes you are
one of those creative types.
the long streams of type and font detailing 
an abuse you endured, 
the way your husband realizes you are
one of those damaged types.

a tiny poem you left years ago in a cradle
of no longer available,
that cries pathetically resurrected with the stroke
of a key.
the boyfriend who remains in over sexualized 
posts and twee-ts that rise, damn zombies.
the unbearable tenderness of accounts closed

reminding us what we already know
nothing is ever closed or deleted or unreachable-
not in the human heart,
not in the worldwide web.

Friday, February 14, 2014

People In Your Neighborhood

take a seat and read!
My beautiful friend Jillian Parker wrote part of this essay from the point of view of her son, and part from her own intelligently articulated point of view:  'Autism and a Boy'

Maggie Estep died last week at age 50 from a massive heart attack. She was a famous ( in literary circles ) spoken word poet and her former lover and best friend wrote one of the most insightful, compassionate and fully formed remembrances I've ever read. 

This essay by Emily Rapp, 'Los Angelitos' is just a gorgeous, enveloping experience of reading. 

I think I'm on way to having this: Julie Metz writes about her experience with frozen shoulder.

Rolling Stones writes Animal Cruelty Is the Price We Pay For Cheap Meat. About four  months ago, I started eating only humanely raised and killed meat. I care deeply and passionately about this issue and believe the way we raise and slaughter much of our meat will be, in the not too far future, be considered an embarrassing and upsetting part of our history. ( as it is now in my personal history ) There is no excuse for this kind of cruelty.

In the Chicago Tribune, a Shebooks author reviews Gina Frangello's book A Life In Men

These children are alive because somebody picked up a phone and called, despite their possible fears of retribution, of thinking 'maybe there is something I don't know', of thinking 'i don't want to be someone who meddles in others lives' or 'what if I'm wrong.' They took a chance for four children, and those four children are alive because they did.

Whenever one of these video essays on the way women are photoshopped comes out, I watch it with Lola and then discuss. Information is power.

I want to read this book and this book

The photos of Eudora Welty

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Work Anxiety, Grateful Anyhow

My body is not co-operating. The body: I am alternately overly identified with my physical self and alarmingly detached from the freckles and fat, breast and butt, hair and yellowed teeth, bones and beating heart that allow me to do what humans usually do- experience the world through touch, taste, sound, sight, my feet on the ground, my arms around hers, food in my mouth, the hot car door underneath my cold, hypothryoid stricken fingers. I am exhausted, getting through my normal five day a week workouts has become very hard, my muscles ache, my fingers are swollen, IBS has cropped up again and I am in general just not vibrant with health. 

Mr. Curry began gluten free about two weeks ago and I am SO DAMN PROUD OF HIM. After reading Grain Brain, I asked him if he would try it, mainly to see if we could affect the bipolar in a positive way, and he said yes. He's doing it 100% and can feel a positive difference, even though he is having horrible cravings. I am GF with him, although I am 95% and not 100%. I have something with gluten maybe twice a week, like a bagel once and a bowl of cereal another time. For the most part, I feed my family healthy fats and proteins alongside fruits, nuts and vegetables. I am obsessed with KIND bars- I eat one every morning with coffee. 

I think that the terror over losing my paying day job ( the little girl I watched moved away ) and being, so far, unable to replace it, is manifesting in my body. Although I do not feel panicked, I feel constant, thrumming anxiety find a job make money find a job make money. I apply to at least one writing job a day, which is all I have time for. The cover letter takes a half hour to an hour to write, crafted for that specific job, then attach resume and links, hit send, never hear a peep from them again. Repeat. I have a number of online resources for writing jobs that I am suited for, which is more than I can say for the last time I attempted this. Meanwhile, I continue writing for pay for two publications, submitting freelance articles and essays and various others- like the grant I applied for a few weeks ago. It's for writers ( or other types of artists, they  have four categories, I believe ) with children under age 18 who need financial help. I send the first 25 pages of my novel ( their specific request ) and spent two hours filling out their application, hit send, wait. The publications and acceptances do keep coming in a steady- although  not fast paced and exciting- stream, and that is extremely gratifying. 

I am insanely in love and enamored with Ever, as is Mr. Curry and really all our other kids, too. She's just a fireball of opinions and cuteness and funny sayings and has a cinnamon dashing of freckles along her nose and cheeks that slay me. I feel incredibly lucky and joyful that I am with her all day and all night, as I was with the other kids…the feeling of luckiness never goes away, even when I'm down, I look at her and am so grateful that I am her mother, and that I can teach her as I see fit in these formative years. She is KILLER polite, and I am proud of that. In public she says 'excuse me' if she's in someone's way, or 'sorry' if she bumps into someone, and before petting any dog does as she was instructed and approaches the adult, saying in her squeak voice: 'Excuse me? Can I pet your dog?' People always gush about her manners and she looks very smug. The smugness of toddlers is so funny.

The other day I said to her, after a mistake ' Oh that's OK honey, it's not your fault. '

And very seriously she replied ' I know mommy. It's your fault. Everything is your fault!'

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Lola and A List

Lola left for camp and I miss her. I mean, I really miss her.

Things that are driving me crazy, in no particular order:

How whenever I throw a piece of my hair out of the car window, such as from my shoulder, it immediately, every time, regardless of my careful attention to wind flow and angle, blows right back in the car. Makes me nuts.

Why people won't pin, post or tweet alerts or images of missing children. Why? It's so easy! There's all this talk about using social media for good! Everyone loves kids! It kind of makes me hate everyone.

That Ever re-discovered teepeeing the inside of the house.

How when I sit at the computer at the same angle of response for any real amount of time, the upper side of my buttcheek goes numb.

That Lena Dunham is supposed to be my best friend, and isn't.

That West Wing is so good, and I can't read at night because I can't wait to watch it on Netflix. I've been Tweeting this hashtag #thingsilearnedfromthewestwing  -for instance, that more people are killed every year by vending machines than wolves.

How when I chew gum in bed at night, I have to get up to put it away before I fall asleep, because if I just wad it up in something next to the bed, Ever might find it the next morning and chew on it. Say it with me: groooosssss

Sunday, February 9, 2014

People In Your Neighborhood

take a seat and read!

My Sad Fish essay on Positively Positive's site has 1.4K shares and rolling. 

Gina Frangello's essay on The Weeklings is gorgeous to read regardless of if you care about any of the subject matter or not. If you care about being a human being, read it. She is at the top of the writing game and her words have unmistakable authority and rhythm. Her novel A Life In Men was just released to rave reviews, too, and I can't wait to read it!

Dresden Shumacker writes a deeply personal essay on her family's journey through financial hell, and how a reader of her blog- a stranger- saved them when the bottom fell out.

Melissa Chadburn writes about the effect Joyce Carol Oates' Wonderland series had on her. JCO is one of my favorite novelists.

An article about Shebooks and one of their Ebooks, Alone In The Woods: Cheryl Strayed, My Daughter And Me

Are millenials the new hippies? Lauren Martin thinks so.

This book that takes place in the quiet life of a 72 year old widower sounds fascinating. 'An Unnecessary Woman'

An old NYT opinionated that struck gold with me- A Writer's Mommy Guilt

This is fascinating National Geographic article on the new scientific findings about how breast milk engineers a baby's gut and gut microbes. Serious health implications.

Friday, February 7, 2014

Child Molestation: What We Can Do With All This Talking

So I've been absorbing all the Woody Allen, Dylan Farrow- and Mia- back and forth, like most of you. I have been a fan of Woody Allen since I was a little girl, and over the years use his quotes often. I've always had a tremendous admiration and brain love for the way he uses words, a quirky intelligent voice that Lena Dunham reminds me of. 

Woody has now released his NYT response to Dylan's letter of accusation. I have no idea if Woody Allen molested Dylan, and neither do you. It is none of our business to pretend that in we- strangers- could take this terribly dysfunctional family and discern the truth, but what we can do is simply make room for two things: Make room to acknowledge that it is not our place to stamp YES or NO on this situation either way, and Make room to acknowledge that whatever did or did not happen, child molestation happens all the time, to all kinds of people, and most importantly, BY all kinds of people. 

We cannot identify child molesters- this is part of the fear. A child molester is deeply aware of their position in society and often filled with enormous pain and self loathing that they will go to almost any lengths to conceal. You can be best friends for thirty years with someone who is a wonderful person in all other aspects of their life, and who is a child molester. Until we understand that, face it, and believe it, people who have been molested will continue to feel that no one will believe them, because often the perpetrator is a lovely, charming and kind person who is great with kids. Somehow we hear all the time how child molesters are teachers, police officers, church goers and family members, yet we do not really believe it. We underestimate the human capacity for compartmentalizing one part of themselves in order to survive. 

When confronted with floodgates opening on an issue, opinions abounding, I often come back to the question: 'what can we do'? For Woody and Mia and Dylan, nothing. We can do less harm, perhaps. But we CAN do something to help child molestation prevention. What we can do is acknowledge that the intense, unholy secrecy that cocoons victims of child molestation has also engulfed the perpetrator. It has to be OK for people to seek help in order to reduce the enormous, unacceptable numbers of perpetrators and victims. In order for people to be able to get help, they have to believe that they can tell people that they need help. It is up to professionals to be the first wave of responders here: child psychologists at schools, especially high schools and colleges, have to be ready to respond without horror or shaming when told this disturbing news, and to direct the person to help. People who are attracted to young children know at young ages themselves that they are geared this way, and often only realize it is a problem as they get older in high school but are still attracted to kids. 

In high school sexual education classes, kids need to be taught about pedophilia, explained what it is and that a person- especially a young person, who probably has not offended yet- who gets help can have a healthy life without hurting innocent children. Pedophiles are of course notoriously hard to treat, but this is not the same thing as impossible, and again, the younger a person gets help, the more likely they can be helped. 

General knowledge and understanding of pedophilia is sorely lacking in a real profile- most people have a foggy, movie of the week kind of understanding of what it is, and a generic and unrealistic idea of what pedophiles 'look like' or who they are. Most pedophiles do not radiate menacing sexual energy or stand and stare at small children in parks. Here are some important points to take in:

1. Teenagers can often be just realizing that they are pedophiles. This is when the age of who they are attracted to stops matching their own age, and they sense a problem. If you notice a teenager who seems strangely drawn toward being physical with little kids, who is always finding reasons to touch them- tickling, playing rough, tackling, wrestling, sitting on lap- pay more attention. See if your gut tells you anything. We often have a sense that something is wrong but repeatedly tell ourselves in our mind that we are being silly, dramatic or ridiculous. Trust. Your. Gut. Even if this person is the kid of the year, football star and straight A student who is a tutor, they can still be a child molester. Trust. Your. Gut.

2. If you feel like there might be a problem, set needed boundaries for any children that you can, and then talk to another adult who you deeply trust and respect. Discuss what you might do next. Consult a therapist who specializes in sexual disorders or teenagers.

3. Child molesters are often completely and totally normal in every single other way. They watch the same movies, like the same music and people, have political opinions like anyone else, tell funny jokes, make people smile, give great hugs, buy coffee for the person next in line, say just the right thing when you were sad, devote their lives to Christ, are famous for their breakfast burritos at family gatherings, are loved by many people, are generous to a fault, teach swimming for free every summer, save wild birds and never let you down. They are also deeply, overwhelmingly attracted to small children and would do almost anything to hide that fact from every single person they know, including themselves. No recounting of a person's good qualities ( or movies ) can make it impossible for them to also, devastatingly, be a child molester.

4. Realize that many offenders are people who themselves were molested as small children. I cannot tell you how many kids I knew in high school who told me they were sexually abused. I was that kind of person who people told their secrets to, and that was a top most told secret. Girls, and boys. I can recall stories of being molested by high school tutors, Girl Scout leaders, grandfathers, parents, a parent's best friend, cousins and teachers. I knew more than a few girls who were sexually assaulted as little girls by older teenage boys. All of these children, floating as psychologically alone as if they had been dropped off into outer space, coping internally with a pain so deep and awful that the pressure would come out- now if, simply how- and sadly, sometimes that pressure warps the boiling pot, and it spills over into another cycle of molestation. If we can allow ourselves to understand that connection, we can begin to consider being more careful in our conversations when we talk about child molestation. Calling people animals, saying that they should be killed- those kinds of reactions, while perfectly understandable, create a social environment that allows zero chance that a pedophile or abuser will seek help. Why bother to seek help when everyone you know thinks you are a monster, irredeemable? This is asking a lot of people, and many are not ready to rise to this. But some of us are, and it is up to us to remain conscious, painful as it is, and make the path that will create a place where less people are harmed.

5. If a child or adult tells you that they have been sexually touched or assaulted in any way, by any person, your absolute first reaction should be to respond as if you believe them. Most of the time, they are telling the truth, first of all- especially with children- if a child tells you this, you can almost guarantee that they are telling the truth. It is your moral obligation to proceed as if they are telling the truth. The shame that comes with being molested or sexually assaulted is so enormous that telling anyone is incredibly painful and brave- sometimes so painful that people tell, and then recant, because they cannot stand to have to relive it out loud, or because they cannot cope with the consequences in their family or circle of friends. And even if that person happens to be making something up, they are in dire need of help. And that help can clarify what is happening, and what kind of help they need. So if you  have done nothing else, you have led a person to getting the right kind of help. 

Monday, February 3, 2014

date night

gift card to nice Del Mar restaurant. Saturday night. grandma babysits girls. Mr. Curry works all Saturday, gets home 6-ish, showers and takes photo with me before we leave to drop Ian off and head out into the night

listening to Sublime in the truck

we arrive at the nice Del Mar restaurant to find middle aged drunken woman straddling the life sized bull at the doorway, her friend taking a photo as she whoops and bobs side to side. we side step them and enter into an alter world where all the men wear dress shoes and all the women have earrings. many older, geeky men with belted jeans escorting younger, platinum blondes with fake breasts and fish lips teetering on pointed heels. we order drinks ( champagne, brut, for me, and jack and coke for him ) and discuss how men who cannot have sex with women and spend inordinate amounts of time during their twenties watching porn and engaging in fantasies end up rich and then their idea of what 'sexy' or 'hot' women is becomes the strived after ideal in the circles of women who desire to marry rich men, thereby producing an entire social ecosystem of rich men holding hands with fake breasted blondes with very nice teeth. 

Mr. Curry heads to the restroom where, he says, it is so dark ( 'ambiance' ) he almost can't find the toilet. the music is so loud we have to half shout to have detailed conversation about the sexual proclivities of various people, yet i have no fear of being déclassé due to the aggressive f bomb dropping and wild gesticulations of the two drunken women at the table next to us. i tell Mr. Curry it is my opinion that at our age ( i am 39, he is 38 ) a common problem in marriages is the woman's desire to simply be properly and semi-regularly fucked ( he and i have the same understanding of what that is ) while the man is becoming lazy in bed, or perhaps falling prey to his particular desires such as having one nipple pinched while the woman gives him a blow job, so that the woman begins to wonder if this is all there is just as the man begins to feel that he can get just what he wants. i think mismatched sexual libidos or desires is a top three problem in a marriage's endurance. 

as this conversation goes on the restaurant grows progressively louder as the crowd- mostly 30 and 40 somethings, some 20 somethings, no children or even teens- grows progressively drunker. the waiters all have very good hair and nice skin.

our food arrives and is outrageously good. the meats are divine, the 'infusions' are flavor soaked, and the duck fat french fries send Mr. Curry to heaven- the best french fries he's ever had, he says. dessert is a Smore like combination of things with an expresso that is divine. we talked about the past and laughed and ate and laughed. we talk about the Starbucks barista who has an adorable crush on me and Mr. Curry expresses that he find this guy very douchey,  and while he does not normally mind crushes on me, minds this one. this barista once told me, with a dreamy look ( in front of my kids, who noticed ) that i was 'amazing'. now if you can find a way to tell a coffee customer that they are amazing that doesn't sound a little odd, you are smoother than this guy. half drunk, i asked Mr. Curry if he had a crush on anyone in his work office and he got a little serious. i am very possessive in my own intense Scorpio way and he did not want  his half drunk wife ruining our evening by turning a 'joke' into a suddenly emotional and ridiculous conversation about made up worries or jealousies. alcohol: score one for you. i agreed and we changed the subject to how really depressing it was that we could not go home and have sex, instead having to pick up the baby from Grandmas. Mr. Curry only drank half his jack and coke since he was driving and tired. 

we left, picked up Ever, came home and fell asleep all three together.

it was as good as it gets, with toddler and without sex.


still, pretty damn good. and there's always tonight. :)

Sunday, February 2, 2014

People In Your Neighborhood

take a seat and read!
An interview with Benedict Cumberbatch- Lola and I are obsessed with Sherlock and have watched all available Netflix episodes, to our dismay. Could he have a better name? No. I follow Cumberbitches on Twitter, too.

Top five reasons to keep running.

What a beautiful use of technology- animation of classic paintings

Louis Peitzman writes about how the show Girls tackled the way writer's grieve

In another piece on Girls, why we love to hate Hannah Horvath so much. I loved this piece and agree.

A website that collects the reasons that life is worth living. Contribute yours.

Elizabeth Scarboro writes about being a young widow. I love her voice.

A mini-review of five Ebooks from Shebooks, my publisher. 

Sustainable, low mercury seafood 

This is a beautiful, empowering and simple thing one teacher did to help the students in her classes who were being left on the margins.

The word inspirational gets tossed around too often, but I found this woman's story on Manifest Station of how cancer took her leg, not her spirit, truly inspirational. 

This 60 Minutes program on our lack of support for mental illness is so important. Few things are more important in our country right now.

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