i’m sitting on my front porch locked out of my house writing this blog post. i can hear the helicopters buzzing overhead. it’s the same sound we heard on wednesday of last week and the saturday before. it has been two weeks of buzzing in st. louis.
yesterday i called my mom around noon as i have nearly every day since April 22nd because of COVID and social distancing. i live in a different state from my mom and have never felt closer to her. we draw together. we talk if there is something to say but we mostly just draw. for
i put 1 of 4 but i doubt i’ll be able to fully capture a fraction [1/4] of the man my uncle harvey was. but as they say, you’ve got to start somewhere. The most effective way to do it, is to do it. Amelia Earhart in other words: let’s fly, amelia
i haven’t posted in a bit and want to explain before pivoting back to shoot for the #stonehousestory … every post is a burst in my brain that spends days spinning. they rarely roll right off-the-rim. i spend days improving every post(-up), and afterwards, i’m still re-reading for mistakes. i like to let my thoughts
i have a tricky relationship with my birthday. for most people, the day your were born is an obvious reason to celebrate [for example, my cousin gene insists on having a party on her exact birthday regardless of the day of the week]. don’t get me wrong, i’ve had some epic parties and wonderful memories
before i dive into the main story i’m here to tell, i want to set the stage … in my previous post i mentioned the four things that matter more than anything else in my life … and #1 is proximity to family. what that means for me might be very different than what it