Don't know how I could be an Aquarian, what with the control freak freaking out in me all the time. I find sorting Legos more soothing than trying to figure out what to build. Bet you would too if the only thing you could construct was the Empire State building--tall, flat and boring.

I drove my husband to the body shop today so he could pick up his repaired pickup, and my inner control freak near fainted at the mess--all I wanted to do was grab a duster and Windex and sort…

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You left me, and that's just too bad for you. I'll focus my attention elsewhere, like on that pixie chick who moved down from apple-knocker country to find her dream job and can't wait to cram into the new apartment with her best friends. Happiness can thrive in New York, but you don't care about that--you don't think about my happiness as you're hauling your life down three flights of stairs and fly away to anywhere in your POS rental truck. So what if you never look back and won't miss the…

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I didn't know it could happen until I saw it in black and white on TV--loud, floor shaking, flashing, making me hug my knees and wonder what else didn't I know was coming to get me?

I was too afraid to crawl out of the closet and save my brother who was sleeping, though I knew it was coming, and my left eye watched from the closet door that was open one inch, watched the shadow trees shiver and shake their shadows on the wall, and I saw the shape coming to get…

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Lori and Nanci busted into Tattoo Tony's Place, still flushed and high from five drinks apiece, and checked out the designs that littered the walls in curling yellow. They pointed to this one and that one, nudging each other, giggling, vowing serious cousin swears that this time they were gonna do it, and tried to ignore Tony braying in the background.

"See, this is gotta be the fifth one I've done this week like this, what's going on, something in the watta, you're…

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was the senior clerical exam the lady or the tiger?

i studied, studied, studied--pushed that homework train uphill both ways to prepare for a three and a half hour test that would determine whether or not i get an ace interview or a date with the round file.

i studied alphabetizing, coding, memorization, analogies, spelling, grammar, greased up my typing skills (you bet i can type the pants off kids who think they can txt like lightning HA!)…

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has god talked to you today? bet if he did, you'd wonder where that text message came from and think about not hitting delete. some peeps heard him talking (not in the quiet texting kind of way but the kind that makes kilimanjaro go "oh crap!") and they said "make it stop, you're scaring us" and i'm not sure we've heard from him since...or at least, not the way we think of "talk" or "hear."

i think when god talks to us now its got something to do with being up at 4 in the…

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Welcome, do come in. Egyptian cotton robes over there, towels warming on the rack, and your choice of slippers there on the shelf. One does need a place to go after... you know... times like that. Soak in the hot tub or perhaps a cold shower will bring you right around. In the next room you'll find waiting whatever you wish, only name it, but I've probably set it out already--I know you like your champagne, brandy, berries in cream or berries in chocolate, but alas, I am out of sambuca.… Continue

Should I stay in my sweats and dirty t-shirt and leave my hair disheveled after a morning of cleaning the house, or should I jump in the shower real quick while the kids and husband are outside and make myself presentable? It was only a matter of time before they got here. The cops I mean. I could've put on a bathrobe and curlers and had a six-pack so when I answer the door I'm the full redneck, but I know I did the right thing by at least putting on a bra. Continue

so i'm on my way home the other night, and i notice two bright lights, widely spaced apart, hovering over that spot where they usually hover. i know that my favorite plane is running touch-and-go's, and i do a naughty thing by stopping my car in the middle of the dark road, lower the window, and hang my head out the car so i can watch it slowly pass over. when i moved in to mike's house all those years ago, i learned to expect these training runs and came to love--fall in love--with the C5A…

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i've got "on the road" in my head tonight, i guess because i was thinking about dad's latest collision no thanks to a deer who had a bad night. anyway, the phrase "on the road" is never far from me.

in the summer on back roads on my way home from work i see willie the wonder-woodchuck--wonderful because he's the only white woodchuck i've ever seen, munching in the orchard up on the hill behind the rock wall, and i say a little prayer each day that he'll be savvy and stay away…

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so you're kicking along and get wiped out--ambushed--by some kind of backwards crazy rogue wave. not five minutes ago you were thinking how wonderful the waterscape was. just minding your own business, treasuring the solitude and bam! you're off your board and spitting salt water when all you really wanted to do was just talk to yourself and write stories in your head. you look around and the coast…

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so i got home late tonight (work stuff) and my son flies out the front door (holy cow he's got shoes on, we've only told him 120 times not to come outside in socks) and he's practically dragging me in the house to show me something. okay okay okay, i need a minute, being careful not to squash his spirit after being sick for a week and this is his first day back to school.

leaping, hollering, boinging up and down like an elasticated bunny, he shows me his first-quarter science…

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e e cummings wrote and wrote and left out all the hieroglyphics he claimed because archy his cockroach couldnt reach the typewriter keys. e e cummings wrote brilliant poetry and so did ray bradbury who uses words like dreamful coggeries because he's a showoff or perhaps it's because he's brilliant but either way its safe to say that nobody writes stuff like that anymore because we forgot the words. we forgot words like tumescent and persiflage. our language has become the language of the brief… Continue

"Fine. Fine I said, okay, I'm going! I'll just hop through the freakin' wet grass and I'll look for your stupid nuts because you're hungry, you're not in the mood to get wet, and I've got nothing else better to do and so help me that freakin' dog better not be down there!" Continue

It's a mother thing, you wouldn't understand. Well... you probably would, even if you're a dad or an aunt, uncle, grandparent, babysitter, or anyone who has contact with kids and has one iota of empathy for living things. My son is thirteen but my eyes still reflect him as a toddler or worse--a baby, a puppy, a cutie patootie, my Twerp-O-Matic that me and his father love like crazy. Monday I admonished him for trying to get out of going to school after a fun Halloween weekend. Tuesday his… Continue

Dineen watched the doorknob turn but kept her ankles crossed on Jeremy's desk, adjusted her blouse, and swallowed.

"Who the fuck let you in here?" he said, stunned, shocked that someone--a woman no less--invaded his sanctuary!

"I didn't agree to this, and you'd better get it out of my contract. Now," she said, gesturing at the paper sitting in her lap.

"This' as you call it, is customary around here, and I'd think that the offspring of movie…

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"You have to write 1800 words a day and all we have to do is Si--ix... nyah nyah," Kristine sing-songed and waggled her hips.



A man walks into the space, strolling casually, strumming a beat-up acoustic guitar and stands before her. "You're not making fun of my writing friends...are you?"



Wide-eyed and tongue-tripped, she was scarcely able to say, "Nossir, not me!"



"You'd better not be lyin' to me darlin', because you know what happens when you lie to Uncle Stevie,… Continue

What I remember most about my chorus teacher, Mrs. Stewart, was her gift for ear-piercing, glass shattering, fear-inducing hollering done by a woman no taller than your chest--in heels! Apparently we gave her plenty of reasons to practice that particular art, but what can you say, we were hormonal teenage girls who really wanted to talk about boys (and each other) in between verses of Christmas songs in September. I won't go into what an amazing pianist she was and how I admired the way she… Continue