Of the small thing that’s the big thing, defense as connection, and the letter K.

  1. If I hold out a little longer, it’ll lay down. Then maybe I won’t be so disappointed in my reflection.
  2. Let go of what you thought it was to take hold of what it is.
  3. Synecdoche.
  4. Is it her attitude that’s the problem or is it mine?
  5. The behindness has reached a point where I doubt both my ability to catch up and my fitness to do anything creative on the regular at all. It stirs up both defeat and defiance.
  6. The instinct to defend myself is still strong, whether I’m right or wrong. But it’s not about blame; it’s about understanding.
  7. That he agrees means it must be the right choice this time.
  8. Just because someone has it worse than you doesn’t mean you don’t have problems.
  9. The uncertain breeze on the edge of chilly. The scent of leaves fallen but not yet moldering. The last hopeful ice cream truck.
  10. So many beautiful words.


Of a certain kind of adventurer, my plan for old age, and a quiet Southern dinner.

  1. Upsetting dreams wake me just before the alarm. The more entwined we become, the more his disturbance disturbs me.
  2. Is there a word for an adventurer who goes into the unknown simply to learn whatever they can, as much as they can, then return to share the wonder and knowledge with their people?
  3. The key to the gift is in the delivery.
  4. Dear Caffeine: I miss you.
  5. “You mean I read you a story when you go to sleep and I tuck you in and give you a baby and turn off the light and go downstairs?” “Yeah, baby, one day. One day when you’re big and I’m old, maybe you’ll take care of me like I take care of you now.” She thinks about this for a long time but says nothing. I do, too.
  6. Why is it so hard to articulate the exhaustion from energy spent on unresolved things?
  7. Good Lord, it’s a gorgeous day.
  8. Can’t say I’m surprised, although I am a bit disappointed.
  9. Grilled sausage, apple coleslaw, baked beans, roasted potatoes, cornbread, and pecan pie.
  10. Even more behind but unashamed.


Of making it to the gym for once, being a wet blanket, and tinyart.

  1. Up before the alarm, I squash the impulse to trawl social media for fifteen minutes before rolling out of bed. I need to move.
  2. The desire to spend the still, dark morning in journalling devotion wars with the desire to lift and run. There’s only room for one each day—though there was a time I did both.
  3. My jaw hasn’t felt wired shut in days, which means the decaf is working. Yay!dammit.
  4. It’s too much—too many bodies, too many voices—but even as I nervously fan myself, I’m aware that the anxiety is exponentially (thankfully) less than last year.
  5. Go the f*ck to sleep.
  6. A lot of the time being a 1 feels like you’re the wet blanket of the ennegram.
  7. Deleting drafts that seemed promising but lack substance.
  8. Creating tinyart each day—savoring the thrill of the idea landing just so, of stretching into unfamiliar territory—reinforces old certainty. I can do this. There are stories in here yet.
  9. The hardest part of knowing ahead of time is being patient while reality catches up.
  10. I should’ve given her a bath tonight. Tomorrow, it’s the Return of Big Boots, and Big Boots only bathes the hard way.


Of a moment I don’t want to leave, extended introvert overload, and gratitude as groceries.

  1. I throw my anxieties into the pool one by one and watch them dissolve into nothingness as we sit side by side with our feet in the hot spring water. I wonder if this place existed before today. Where are my notes.
  2. Playing catch-up.
  3. Am I rehearsing darkness or expressing truth?
  4. At some point I realize my seething is because my introvert circuits are redlining. There hasn’t been enough recharge time between outpourings.
  5. Defiance. Rebellion. Disobedience. Must be a day ending in Y.
  6. He can tell I’m boiling just under. I can tell he’s not sure what to make of the long litany of thoughts, feelings, and logistics I pour out when he presses for what’s wrong.
  7. She always looks right through me. I wish I had time to explain all the things I know she sees.
  8. Today, gratitude looks like ten pounds of potatoes, a gallon bag of cheese, three pounds of crudites, and a meal’s worth of taco meat.
  9. It feels like going backwards. Like we’re losing ground. Where is the line between striving and sense?
  10. Tomorrow is a new day.