Whew. Did you ever notice the way life squishes everything together…the good, the bad, and the ugly…the scary, the mysterious, and the grand? My Houston trip was that way. Today–back home in Kansas–the snow is swirling. I’m trying to figure out the journey to Colorado, where I’m supposed to be tomorrow. Brrrrr. But, as Leonard
One of my author friends just called me the Queen of the Ripple Effect. I’m not sure how I got to be queen, but I like it. In a couple of days, I’ll be riding the ripple south, riding a wave that–in some ways–started last year when I went to Houston on a visit organized
This week the Bat Poets graduated to the melancholy lilt of the bagpipe and the sounds of sentences from their own stories, and I flew home from the residency for the Vermont College MFA in children’s and YA literature, aka Boot Camp for Writers. Take clump of writers who are comfortable with solitude and often spend their
Twenty-some years ago, I spent New Year’s Eve in a hospital room in Trinidad, Colorado, having a baby. Every other person who came through the labor room (and there were plenty, as I remember) suggested I wait and have the first new year’s baby. The others said I should have the baby now and get a
Travel at Christmas is woven into my bones. When I was five and six, my mom homeschooled me (and my siblings) in Maji, the remote southwest area where I spent a magical, outside childhood. But when I was 9, my older sister and I got trundled down to the savannah and put on an EAL
Last December, I flew to Portland to say a final goodbye to my dad. In some ways, he left our lives so suddenly. One day, he was jogging in the park across from the house, planting potatoes and tending his strawberries and kiwis, experimenting with cooking, considering global challenges. The next day, his car coasted into
No matter how many amazing things I had seen in Ethiopia– castles rising through the mist and mountains, flamingoes flapping in a pink cloud over a Rift Valley lake–when I visited the U.S., I couldn’t talk about it. When I arrvied as an eighth grader, my fellow classmates in Pasadena asked, “Did you see Tarzan?” I learned
Christmas? What’s Christmas? Don’t get me wrong. My local NPR station floats the most gorgeous Christmas music into my living room–songs that all the juice hasn’t been wrung out of by playing them over and over. Pinpoints of white light that poke out of the dark as we drive over the Kansas prairies make me feel brave and
Late November has settled around us, and Lanie’s year is coming to an end. It’s making me a bit melancholy–and also making the memories of my whirlwind year all the sweeter. I’ve talked to several people recently who didn’t realize that Lanie doll won’t be around after December 31. Alas, true. But I’m tickled pink,
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