May 16, 2019

Confession: I thought about telling y’all that I’d been in the Seychelles.

I did, I honestly thought about it, if only for a minute or two. Because telling you that story would be so, so much easier. But lying to you isn’t doing myself any favors. Lying–to everyone and myself–is what got me into this mess in the first place. The truth, ugly as it is, at least serves a purpose. At bare minimum, it is honest and I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of being lied to by dang near everybody nowadays.

I live in (what I not-so-fondly) call Stepford. It’s a lovely place to visit, to take a scenic drive through. It backs up against the mountains, with views so striking you almost can’t believe they’re real. The lawns are perfectly mainicured, flowers in full bloom. The homes are tidy, the closets carefully Marie Kondo’d (Marie Kondo’d is a verb now, did you know?) People leave for work in their shiny, environmentally-friendly cars. The women, in their Lululemon gear, have painted nails and sleek bodies and thick hair that looks elegant in a messy bun.

It’s a beautiful place to visit. But living in it? It’s Hell.

At least it is for me, the deeply flawed.

It’s hard to be flawed in a neighborhood that really doesn’t allow it. Ask anyone how they are and they’ll reply that all is just boom-smackity wonderful. The kids are great, they’re so dang smart and athletic. We’ve just started Whole 30 and even though we don’t need to lose a few pounds, we have so much more energy now. You should try it. When is the next book club? Want to meet at Starbucks?

The cookies don’t crumble here and if they do, we certainly don’t talk about it. Because everything is fine and dandy, just fine thankyouverymuch.

Everything here shines like a brand new silver dollar.


And me? I tried to follow along. I rubbed and rubbed, trying to make my life shine. But guess what? The shine on the outside is worthless when you are in tatters on the inside. It doesn’t work, at least it doesn’t for me.

My Mama used to say that “you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear,” which means actually I don’t know what but I think it means that if you’re ugly in your own skin you can try to hide it, but people see right through you. Or if they don’t, YOU see through you and you know you’re a fraud and you feel ashamed.

Shame sucks. It eats you from the inside out.

I think I’ve been eaten alive enough, so I’m not playing anymore. Take that, Stepford! You have an underbelly. It’s dirty and it’s messy and it’s broken into sharp, rough shards. It’s me. No worries, you don’t have to air your dirty laundry or bare the skeletons in your closet. You are safe. I’ll be your poster child so you don’t have to reveal one little thing. Wipe your conscience clear. Keep shining, keep winking in the noonday sun.

I wave the flag in surrender.


I’ve spent most of last week…somewhere special. For you longtime readers, I will say that I’ve been back in Fuck You Linda territory and you’ll get it. For those who are newer to this blog, I’ll give you the past story here.


And here.

I just got sprung last night, so it may be a while before you get the goods on this one. I have a lot to attend to, including myself. Which I apparently suck at, which is partially what landed me back in FYL territory.

For know, I do the best I can.





Used to Be Mine

April 25, 2019

She is messy, but she’s kind

She is lonely most of the time

She is all of this mixed up and baked

In a beautiful pie.

She is gone but she used to be mine.



Humpty Dumpty

April 8, 2019

Riding the Train

March 27, 2019

The Summer She Saved Me

March 14, 2019

The Un-Birthday

February 24, 2019

Serenade: a sister poem

January 28, 2019

Crack Brussels Sprouts Salad

January 14, 2019