Her Name Is Sophie
Class ended at six-forty-five. I know because I was watching the clock, not impatiently, just in that low-level way you watch a clock when you have nowhere urgent to be and you're…
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The Draft That Knew Before I Did
It started as a normal blog post. I sat down tonight to write something about the first Creative Writing class, you know, a recap, a little reflection, maybe a line or two about h…
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The Cold Is Just Standing There
There is a specific kind of February morning where the light comes in grey and flat and the window fogs at the bottom and you stand there with your coffee for too long just lookin…
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The Starter and I Are Both Works in Progress
February fourteenth and I spent the morning covered in flour. Not on purpose, that's just how sourdough works, apparently. I'd been reading about it for weeks, the way you do when…
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What I Actually Meant to Say
not for the blog. That's what I typed at the top of this document four months ago when I realized I was writing a mission statement for myself instead of a post. I saved it. Close…
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The Kettle Corn Was Worth It
Nine in the morning and it was twenty-eight degrees. I know because I checked my phone before I left and stood in the kitchen for a full minute deciding whether I actually wanted…
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The Lake Was Frozen and I Drove There Anyway
Tuesday. I got in the car at eight-fifteen with a full tank of gas and no actual plan, which is either freedom or a character flaw, and I drove an hour and twenty minutes to a lak…
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What I Did Instead of Making Resolutions
January first. I woke up with no plan, no resolution written in a cute journal, nothing. I had a bag of bread flour I bought impulsively two weeks ago because I watched someone on…
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The Longest Night (Literally, It's the Solstice)
It started with the book. I've been reading Mary Renault's The King Must Die, picked it up from the used bin at the bookstore weeks ago, finally cracked it last Tuesday, and there…
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The Sock That Outlasted October
December tenth and I finally did the laundry. Not the catch-up load, the real one. The one where you move things that have been sitting in the basket long enough to need refolding…
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