• Day S E V E N • Harvester Island Writers Workshop Friday, Sept. 9, 2022 Today’s post is a retrospective within a retrospective. Confusing I know. Stay with me. In the chronology of writing camp, we’re at Friday 9-9, the last full day. Tonight we’ll feast on Dungeness crab and the reading of each other’s stories.
Evil advancing in real-time. Intimidation, scapegoating, and finger-pointing. Parents, educators, and politicians at odds. Big tech acting as arbiters of speech. Gender, race, rights, and riots fighting for headlines and our head space. This is an extraordinary time to be alive. Tectonic plates are shifting right underneath our feet. So, where we place our feet
Forever, I’ve wanted to remodel my master bathroom, but it beat me to it. It remodeled me. What were the builders of my step-down shower thinking? Let’s drop a fifteen-square foot hole in the house, line it with slick ceramic tile, and not install grab bars. What could possibly go wrong? I’m sure the Turkish-bathhouse vibe
Are you in a season of waiting? Has the night gone on too long? Maybe you’re waiting to find out if it’s cancer. Waiting for God to give you an answer. Or that relationship still limps along, tattered and estranged. Or the mountain reveals a hidden ascent every time you’re spent and sweating and thought
It’s loud out there. Invectives are flying faster than airplanes with middle seats open. Social media platforms have replaced masks as the new red and blue of politics. And we just limped into the arms of 2021 only to find we’re in a full nelson. Our “unprecedented times” are becoming more precedented and so I’m
This post won’t be for everyone. But oh dear goodness, it will be for someone. Consider it a salve for the sisters who need less silent treatment and more Silent Night. Or a nod to those who secretly think Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer is a catchy little tune. Or a lifeline for