The Mother of Invention
It’s snowing outside as I type. Big, fluffy flakes descending rapidly from the sky. This morning it’s cold, cold enough for the snow to stick to the ground, leaving tracks as I make my way from backdoor to chicken coop. We’re a week shy of the official start of winter, but it’s frigid enough I have to bring the chickens’ waterer in each night or it freezes solid. Sometimes, I forget. Which is why our chicken waterer is now cracked.
Good morning! And welcome to a brand new year! It’s sunny here in Portland, Maine, a good omen of hopefully great things to come.
I know lots of people are professing their new year’s resolutions this morning. And I am too. Here, publicly, because I don’t know if I can otherwise fully commit to what I intend to do.
Unlike years past, when I had the luxury of slipping lazily back into regular life and forgetting resolutions, my life isn’t regular anymore. As I explained in my last post, my dad has Alzheimer’s. We live 1200 miles apart and with COVID raging between us, finding a way to bridge that distance is challenging. Rather than wait around for my dad to forget me forever, I’ve decided to do whatever it takes to make myself more memorable. And what better way than by entertaining him daily? So I created my own YouTube Channel, dedicated to my folks.
This is my project for 2021– to read, record, and share the stories I’ve written over the years. If it brings my parents joy and laughter and helps my dad remember me longer, it will be time very well spent. Feel free to follow along!
Kiss My Grits, 2020
Today is December 27, 2020.
For many of you (myself included) this past year has been one of the weirdest and worst of our lives.
The Bones of the Business (Alphabitch, Day 8)
When I showed up to my interview last October, my boss was seated in the window of a coffee shop wearing Bean boots and a sweater emblazoned with a black lab. She couldn’t have looked more MAINE if she tried. We talked for an hour; she told me about the job and I told her about myself, and by the end of the interview I knew I wanted to work for her.