the washer and the dryer.

in my mind,

i hear one say, “un-uh”

and the other one answer, “oh yeah,”

while sitting in a tiny kitchen,

in a familiar folding metal chair

waiting for the chili

that i prepared all day yesterday

to reheat, as no one including me ate it.

i am pondering the cornbread

reclining peacefully and untouched

in a simple, red dish made of crockery.

the cheddar is grated and in a bowl.

the sour cream and chopped onion

just waiting, like me.


last friday…

…it was an interesting day. i was already feeling emotional and was not prepared for the added difficulty of forgetting to bring my order for my upper arm ultrasound.

the lady at the desk looked for a copy in her computer system, because my doctor failed to send it electronically. the lady told me to call my doctor’s office and have them send it. i called my doctors office and got a prerecorded message that told me that their office would be closed until august 14, because they were moving the office to a different location.

in that moment, i felt helpless and all alone. i knew that i needed the ultrasound done and thought that i would have to use the little gas that i had to drive back to the apartment to pick-up the stupid paper that i had forgotten to bring with me.

suddenly, my phone started to ring a strange ring. i looked and it was w***y. i answered the phone, with an obviously teary voice. she asked me what was wrong and i told her. i asked her if she would take a photo of the order and email it to me.

w***y saved the day for me. the photo of the order worked and i was able to get my ultrasound that day. i felt very grateful for the help of my friend and for the universe that interceded on my behalf!! w***y never calls me!!

anyway, this photostrip is a compilation of the nature around the imaging center, the people waiting inside of it, and the struggle between a drunk woman and a police officer. i believe that it was the officer that had the worse day, because that woman behaved horribly, spitting on him and saying vile things to him.







…when i think about waiting my mind always goes to my childhood reference…sam’s butcher shop on, the brady bunch television show

of course, it was that way in real life, too…but, i think that i’ve spent a lot of time at sam’s marvelling at the 1970’s-wholesomeness of it all. it makes me be okay with waiting. it gives me patience. it reinforces my gratitude. it makes me feel safe. it gives me hope that when it is finally my turn, that there will be something really fucking wonderful…for me.

you see everyone at sam’s is pleasant and friendly. sam tells stories and chats everybody up. everybody is waiting, but they’re quite happy and content…because they all know that sam has exactly what they need and he’s procured and saved it, just for them.

so, just like everybody in line ahead of me and behind me…i’m waiting. today, i’m waiting for answers. yesterday, i was waiting for a check. tomorrow, i’m going to wake up at six am needing to use the bathroom and sure, as shit…i’ll be waiting for the bathroom, too.

when i wait in sam’s line, i matter…people notice me and treat me with kindness and respect. i can and will wait for all that i want and all that i want to accomplish, but i choose to wait at sam’s.

i know that when sam greets me with his smiling face and gregarious spirit, he’ll nod and flash me a knowing wink, and say, “i’ve waited a long time for you!! i’ll be right back.” he’ll go to his office and open the door…and beckon me back, once and for all to explore.


i could get used to this…

it’s quiet, like it’s never been before.

i love the dead of night…

or is it, the butt-crack of early morning?

i just know that it was 1:57…

and, now the clock says 2:03.

i realize that i’ve lost six minutes…

that i’m never going to get back again.

i can see the future clearly…

without the extraneous sound.

i know that it’s full of coffee…

and then perhaps, a deep sleep.

i know that i’m restless and ready to roam…

to go back to that place, my heart calls home.

from the patio…

wind blowing. 

my hair unruly.

sitting outside.

wearing a thermal.

it fit at christmas.

now it’s too big.

jet roaring.

over my head it flies.

neighbor says, “hello.”

children are yelling.

songbirds singing.

buggs sees me.

he licks the door.

sky hanging.

clouds billowing. 

trees dance in the breeze.

here i am now.

time’s a-wasting.

daylight’s going fast.

hand’s empty. 

heart’s full.

hurry please.

i’m a-waiting.


today, i went out for just a little bit. bugg’s reminded me that he needed some dog food and i just needed something. i looked and i looked, but just couldn’t find anything that i absolutely needed.

i saw and passed up; donuts, chips, cookies, candy, beef jerky, slurpees, coke, brownies, muffins, hot dogs, taquitos, and cigarettes. in the past, i would have easily caved and filled my cart, in the attempt to fill whatever hole that i happened to have in my life.

but, i take great pride in knowing that i have been using my time wisely. i am living proof of the fact that if you want to bad enough, you can change. you can become whatever and whomever, you want to be. you can set goals, work toward them, and achieve them…all on your own.

what i realized when i was looking for what i “needed,” was that what i needed once again, couldn’t be found anywhere or in anything, or in anyone else. what i need is already inside of me. what i need is actually in there…self-forgiveness, self-kindness, and self-love. it’s in there and it exists in bucket fulls. it was there last time. it’s there this time, too.

i know that there is no cure in the world. i know that there is no quick fix. i know that right now, i have to sit with this confusion and frustration, these nagging questions, and deep-aching hurt. it’s disconcerting. it’s uncomfortable as all hell. and, it’s disabling from time to time. hurt just fucking hurts, until it doesn’t anymore, and unfortunately, hurt has no timetable.

but, i know that i will get through this. i remind myself that i am all that i need…me and bugg’s. that is something that i know and believe fully. i have always freely chosen to love a person, because i wanted to…i always made absolutely sure that it was want…and never need…or codependency. that fact, i am proud of, as i have always been self-aware enough to ask myself that question and to know the difference.

i didn’t go to bed until three am last night/this morning. i go into my bedroom and i grieve, as i try to be kind to myself. i hate the silence of my phone. i fill every moment of my time in there, with self-care. i exercise and listen to music. i meditate. i try to wear my mind and body out completely, while repeating affirmations and working on stems.

sometimes, i get comfortable, hold my river rock between the thumb and palm of my right hand, and i utilize the butterfly tap, to take me into an emdr state. once i am in my state, i allow my mind to take me home. the state of being home is very healing for me. home is washington. home is a forested beach hollow. home is sitting on a fallen log, on the beach, surrounded by trees

when i arrive home, i sit down on the log. i smell and taste the salty air. i feel the breeze on my face. i hear the screeching seagulls. i open my eyes and i see my boys playing. (my boys dieter a german shepherd/great dane mix, samson a border colllie/samoyed mix, gunther a boxer, and bugg’s my chihuahua/miniature pinscher mix). they’re running around jumping and rolling in the sand, chasing each other, and bugg’s is barking at them.

when i’m home, i can stay there for as long as i want and i can interact with my boys however i choose. i can run with them. i can chase them. i can the throw the frisbee for dieter. i can dance with sammy. i can paint with gunther. i can bark back at bugg’s. we can all lie down in the warm sand, cuddle, and take a nap. we can share a picnic lunch. or maybe, we can watch the stars at night.

when i am home, i am free. i am free from hurt. i am free from the desert. i am free from physical, mental, and emotional impairments. i am surrounded by beauty. i am surrounded by peace and tranquility. i am surrounded by pure, unadulterated love. i am safe at home. i am cared for at home. i am very wanted and very loved at home. quite honestly, there is no place like home.

when it comes time for me to leave the comforts and love of home, i do so slowly. it’s so hard to leave all that i love behind, but i am comforted in knowing that i can return whenever i want or need to. my home belongs to me and me only. it is my special healing place, where i can go for comfort, without ever bothering anyone else. my boys never get tired of me and they are always happy to see me.



breaking the ice…

it had been a very long time, since i’d been in this position…the position of just meeting someone for the first time. someone, whom i talked to for hours and started getting to know in depth, over the phone. someone, whom i recently met in person and spent time with over christmas. someone, whom i’m attempting to date and get to know better slowly, from a distance. 

so, here i’m in the position of choosing to try to date again and be with someone that i’m still getting to know. usually, i walk around on pins and needles, worrying about breaking the ice, for one thing or another…especially, in someone else’s house. i’m usually uptight and uncomfortable, wound very tightly, and unable to relax. however, in this particular position, with this particular person, i felt completely comfortable and she indicated the same.

now when i say, “breaking the ice,” i’m referring to something happening for the first time. when dating, keeping track of ice breaking…who did what first, whose body betrayed them first, who made the biggest faux pas, etc…is endlessly entertaining and can always be used as a reason for healthy teasing later.

the person that i’m trying to get to know better, had a king-sized, extra tall, sleigh bed…and, i’m a person, with short little legs, an extremely long torso, and unnaturally long arms. each night that i was there, my person had absolutely no problem crawling into bed, scooting over, and scurrying under the covers. she was a pro!! 

however, when it came to my turn each night, it was an all out fight to get me into bed and keep me there. it was quite literally, a two person job. first of all, i must also interject, that the scene would not be complete, without me mentioning that it wasn’t just the two of us in the bed. it was the two of us, her dog (a 120 pound great dane/standard poodle mix), and my dog (a 12 pound chihuahua/miniature pinscher mix). 

after brushing my teeth each night, i’d sidle up to the side of the bed, bargain with the dogs to scoot over, and then, attempt to propel myself up and onto the bed, around the dogs…and, try to hang on with my arms, as i’d begin to slide off. my person would always reach over and grab a flailing arm, and pull me up, or hold me there, until i could reposition. the whole thing ended up being quite a production. 

one night, we had been bantering back and forth. we were being playful and both laughing, but our conversation turned into something more serious. i gave my person a kiss before taking on the responsibility of trying to put myself into bed. it was nice and i decided that i was going to be really cool and try a different “smooth” way to jump up and roll toward her. so, there i was, feeling really confident and competent. i had a big smile on my face. i thought to myself, “oh, i’ve got this!!”

i was ready. i couldn’t get myself up there quickly enough. as i set myself up to make my extra, super-fancy, ultra-sexy-suave move…i was in all my glory, very self-assured, and very certain of the outcome. i propelled, scooted, and turned toward her..all in one agile move. i absolutely nailed it. as i was floating in mid-air, before making my descent…i heard my mind say with a chuckle, “…perfection…” 

i saw my person as i prepared to land, she smiled at me, and we maintained eye contact as i hit the bed with the expected thud…and, something extra. i was absolutely mortified when i heard what sounded like a big, loud raspberry or a whoopee cushion. and, there was no trying to blame it on one of the dogs. we all heard it and knew where it came from. i was so embarrassed, but neither of us could stop laughing. 

and then came the chanting, “kw broke the fart ice. kw broke the fart ice. kw broke the fart ice.” and the fact that she did that, immediately released me from feeling anything other than amused. she really helped me off of the hot seat. we had a great laugh and then she looked at me, and said, “you should write about breaking the “fart ice.”