Three days ago, while on a bike ride, I saw none of the famous Cherry Blossoms on the downtown Portland Waterfront. It looked a little sad and barren. Today, in so many thermal and waterproof layers that my knees were barely bendable, I took a different bike route toward downtown. My mind was not … Read more

High noon from my high table lunch for one please   like toddler’s legs dangling from my pub chair fuzzy slippers below my knees   honey-sheer café curtains meant to shield the hot winter sun it’s a filter-turned-projector not to be outdone the stage is set for the main event one i’m known for and … Read more

Since I’m on Melody Beattie’s email list, I just received the mass email from her daughter, Nichole, announcing that her momma passed on four days ago. She writes: On February 27, at 10 pm, just as the new moon fell into Pisces, my beautiful mother, Melody Beattie, passed away. She died peacefully at home, surrounded … Read more

I like to see Oscar-nominated films before the big show, and so since time is of the essence, I planned to see “A Complete Unknown” today, solo. I spontaneously left a few minutes early to run into Costco to check the price of an item. This wasn’t a “Costco run” where my MINI was maxed, … Read more

I wanted (want) to say to God, “Hold my catastrophes, will ya?” As we were preparing for our son’s memorial, an “Evergreen” behind our two-story house—one nearly as tall as our house—suddenly fell over. I was home and heard the crash-bam-boom. I ran to the ruckus and saw the downed tree. If I’d been in … Read more

Whenever I wear this bike jersey by Cycology, (pronounced “psychology”) and inspired by Frida Kahlo, I almost—without fail—get a compliment (i.e., a car passenger boldly yells, “I LIKE YOUR SHIRT!”) Everybody loves Frida! Yesterday, the crossing guard checking out my kit + gear asked, “Do you do this every morning?” I assumed she meant riding … Read more

This morning, before any slippery bits could fall through the rusty sieve between my temples, I decided to jot down notes about what had happened over the last few days since writing about “talking” bunnies, dolphins, deer—and music—but then I became distracted by the Mary Oliver tome I keep on my nightstand. I turned the … Read more

If I could walk with the animals and talk with the animals Grunt, squeak, squawk with the animals And they could squeak and squawk And speak and talk to me They would talk too — Sammy Davis Jr.   On the day of Joey’s memorial, I referenced the hymn “It is Well with My Soul.” … Read more

  If I understand correctly, “distilling down” means reducing something to its most essential parts, focusing on crucial elements—having been purified by heating. On Sunday, we watched glammed-out celebrities living the dream, walking the red carpet, and a few days later, we saw these same celebrities shedding real tears. This is not a personal case of … Read more

This week, I’ve received a few heavenly DMs, which have been reassurances and comforts that cannot be dismissed as coincidences. Just as those had, one landed in my lap a while back: It was a song for Joey. The lyrics describe a little boy being ushered into heaven by the most tender, enveloping embrace, the … Read more