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i have the strongest craving for my mom's "mile high" biscuits. they are as tall and light as the name suggests. More than once yesterday a golden high and delicately layered biscuit slathered with real butter and honey floated provocatively before my hungry eyes.  I'm not a big biscuit fan, OK that's a lie. i am a fan of really wrong-headed golden greasy biscuits from Popeye's which my intuition  whispers are doused with butter-flavoured animal fat and bleached white flour. to avoid valve congestion i enjoy one of those tasty treats about every seven years, just like swallowed gum, so the rumour goes, it takes seven biblical years to digest.  maybe it's the weather here, crisp and warm, the trees still with leaves turning gold and red, cool morning and evening. or maybe I'm a little home sick or maybe it's the oncoming holidays, the desire to cook , create, bake my loose unfocused feelings into something tangible. I'll let you know how it...

it takes time to realize some fundamental things have changed since i moved. like traveling i took very little and have moved from spot to spot figuring and reconfiguring where to lay my head, which furniture is likely to shelter a rogue cat and how much i actually want to unpack before i have to re-pack. the house I'm staying in has no wi-fi so I'm 'working' from wholefoods or Jo's coffee, my new favorite place.  I've noticed: (1) there's no full length mirror where i'm staying. you may think it's unimportant but it suggests i'm walking by faith not sight as i have no idea what i look like below the waist. and i don't spend half my day like a baby transfixed by a dangling musical mobile drooling on myself wondering if i'm physically acceptable. i just act in the world.   (2) I have a very limited wardrobe. again, it seems unimportant but having few choices forces me to be grateful and creative. i'm not sure why i own so many clothes ...

fifty minutes after my normal wake -up time of 7:22, the time Maddie has decided is long enough for me to sleep no matter the previous night's occasion, i awoke grumpy , stiff and in a murderous mood ready to kill the next cat who stepped out of line. (go on, make my day)  the night before in a peaceful frame of mind i leisurely dressed then relaxed on the bed watching a 'six feet under' DVD until the time was upon me to make my way to Vespaio were i would join my friend for dinner at the bar. As i drove along the frontage road in the right lane before my exit i noticed a car speeding off the ramp in my direction, three lanes away, two lanes away, one lane away, dangerously close and boom! without ceremony i had been whacked sideways and shot off the road where my loaner car stalled. shaking i restarted it and pulled over into the Chevron station parking lot all the while watching the perpetrator...would she stop? she did. we met in the lot where a series of phone calls beg...

so i'm at my favourite place, unlike Wal -mart, the YMCA.  why i like the Y: people at the Y, the patrons anyway, are usually gregarious talkers and interested humans who wear worn out swim suits, dirty shoes and make use of the complimentary Dial anti- perspirant . today i saw two aged women emerge from the showers, their large saggy crepe-laden nude bodies waddling towards the locker room where their daily routine unfolded. you can tell people with a routine, i know, i'm one of them. (i always take either the locker  furthest from the action or closest to the aisle and escaping, although with the aisle you're constantly swishing your bare-naked ass out of the way for passer-byers.) the grannies revealed their  preference not only for the aisle but the entire shared bench; sensing i was encroaching on their territory i made myself small and invisible while they dressed. they had matching short haircuts and black pants and t-shirts that read, "women in black" on ...

numb and thick tongued...how to turn off the big brain? i wonder what's the difference between medication and meditation.  i remember seeing a documentary on people with epilepsy who experience almost hallucinogenic awe...the golden buzzing glow. thing is as soon as they're placed on medication intended to alleviate the seizures many slump into a dulled depression, the fireworks stop, the colors dim, the visions cease replaced by a steady hum hum hum. the hum of ordinary-ness. and isn't that what i'm afraid of? i'm not going to include you reader, i wouldn't presume that you're a wily maverick always kickin' against the pricks, always shifting course..exploring, circling, wandering. and meditation, will it blunt my sharp edges, my quirky jerks and rambling? will it speak sweet peace to the angry woman living inside me. the woman who surprises me with her rage and disappointment, still sad as i peel away the failed attempts at everything.  these are m...

one evening last fall i had met some friends, Cat, Tom, Mike, et al... and accidentally got a little loopy drinking first, red wine, then easing into toffee flavored beers, oh yummy.  i had parked my car around the corner which now seemed, to my friends, too risky to drive, whatever. "oh no, i can dribe." ...thinking i had slunk away unnoticed i made my way to the car and was just about to unlock it when i was  hoisted over Mike's caveman shoulder and lugged away kicking like a baby, placed in a cab with Cat and escorted to my doorstep. upon waking the next morning i vaguely remembered that, "oh yeah, my car is three miles away." undeterred and emboldened by several espresso based drinks i walked the distance. it occurred to me in my hazy head that, "wouldn't it be funny to text Cat?" text: I'M A VERY BAD GIRL! as soon as i launch it i realize i've sent it to my cop landlord.... response: "WHAT?" like a homeless bag lady with a se...

so i'm sleeping on an air mattress from wal-mart -my least favourite place in the world-swaddled in sheets that even after a brief scalding wash are about as soft as sand-based toilet paper. what was i thinking when i fled chicago? i knew i might have a day or two in transition until i found a home but this, this is silly. my greatest longing of late is a nice set of hangers, even plastic will do. i left every single beautiful sculptural wood jacket hanger ...and loads of toiletries and cleaning products.  how about a sponge, i'd love a clean sponge. it's not that i can't buy more it's the idea that i left it all behind. who packs a sponge or a half bottle of murphy's oil soap?  and the poor kitties, they were subjected an airport ride in new unscented carriers, plucked from the bag before passing through security screening, shoved under a seat with a 10" clearance and had their ears pop with the same frequency as mine. then carted and shifted into another...

so i'm paying good money to stay in this overpriced precious 'cabin' in the travis heights area of Austin. there's a small bedroom, a little bathroom with a non-stop running toilet, and then the 'kitchen-screened-in-porch' that is shared with a small fox family and a rogue squirrel. now notice what i did not mention because for the most part we assume certain things about the places we pay money to stay. there is no closet, there are no hangers, there is no place to work except the dresser vanity in the bathroom where i have my laptop hooked up. (i'm watching myself type, pretty) the screened in kitchen has gaping holes in the screening where the animal families can come through and where my two cats are plotting their escape. i spent an hour catproofing the screen so at least they can't SEE the openings....but it didn't deter the squirrel i found sitting on my kitchen table. he must have climbed down the roof. ever see a trapped squirrel trying to w...