25 Fascinating Photos of Writers at Home [courtesy Flavorwire]
25 Fascinating Photos of Writers at Home [courtesy Flavorwire]
My Internet connection decided to play hooky this afternoon. It went away, leaving an onslaught of cold rain in its place. I ignored them both, sliding into a hot bath fragrant with salt, book in hand. It wasn’t a waste, but a swirling respite. A challenge. A challenge to be calm, if only for a few moments.

Bath time
Once Upon a Time, little girls were told they needed fairy tales. The goal was to hear the words, “And they lived happily ever after. The End.” It’s a scary idea. It says so right there: the end. A closed book. Happiness trapped under glass like a dead fly. The problem is that, when you are working toward an official Happily Ever After, you miss the nuances of the journey through the Big Bad Forest, the meat and mead of life: laughter, tears, growth, absurdity, knowledge, companionship, heartbreak, fulfillment, frustration, accomplishment. Life is messy, irreverent. It brooks no happily ever after. Why should it? Life is its own complicated reward.
Write your own story, but write it honestly. Live your own life, without succumbing to complacent platitudes. Embrace your own beautifully cracked version of success and happiness. Mine calls for writing words the best way I can, in reading more than is healthy, in loving a complex, brilliant, imperfect man. It allows for dust in the corners of my house and budding laugh lines around my eyes. I love every second of this broken bliss. It’s a thousand times better than any sterile Happily Ever After.
This is in response to the Daily Prompt: Happily Ever After. “And they lived happily ever after.” Think about this line for a few minutes. Are you living happily ever after? If not, what will it take for you to get there?
I’m Facebook friends with a garden gnome. His name is Robert. He plays Jazz guitar. True story.
Men on a roof. Bending, crouching, arms open to the sky. Hammering, drilling, sawing. Moving silhouettes on a cityscape set. Dress extras bringing atmosphere. Skyscraper backdrop with painted clouds. The foreman stands, his back to the audience. Directing the action. Immobile. Neon-vested. Empty hands in warm pockets. The workers’ raucous laughter slides through the whirring whinge of their tools. Perfectly timed. They’ve given this performance before.

Men at Work
My response to the Daily Prompt.
Today, my return to shining good health is matched watt for watt by a hearty winter sun. Both incandescent, ready for change. Strong. The renewal of the New Year met a roadblock or two, was delayed, delayed again, the delay constantly looping. Today, creativity is back, and with it hope; they are both resplendent. I’ve re-imagined the way forward, a sturdy path with many forks. It’s beautiful.

Hope is like the light in an Impressionist painting.
I was sick for two weeks. After a couple of days of gingerly poking my head out of the gopher hole to check on the state of the real world (was it as I remembered, or had it been transformed into an alien other?), my best friend yanked me into the sunshine of this beautiful, sunshiny January day. We were, for a few glorious hours, carefree Ladies Who Lunch. And shop. And laugh. It was blissful. Here’s Nikki, looking lovely.

The drinks were not as large as they seem.
“Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”-Marcel Proust
The Chef is feeling a bit under the weather today, too. He’s my love, that man. His solution for the aches and pains? Sleeping under a big pile of couch cushions. I’ll let you know how well that works out.

The Sleeping Chef. Instagram.
“Perfect love is the most beautiful of all frustrations because it is more than one can express.”-Charles Chaplin
I took these photographs from inside my husband’s Saab while he was washing the car last night. The sun was setting, and the glow from taillights and street lamps illuminated the parking lot. The effect was softened through the filter of a soap-drenched window. They remind me of Impressionist paintings.
“Blessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing.”-Camille Pissarro
I made this “poster” from an excerpt of one of my essays. It was fun! If you want to make a quote poster of your own, go to Recite This. A big thank you goes to Gala Darling for introducing me to this site.

A quote from one of my essays.