A Writers Life For Me.


I write by hand all the time (I mostly do notes, small spurts and pieces as well as all poetry, but my real long writing is by typing, with a notebook of notes for each project next to it). But mostly I go back to reference things I’ve jotted down and end up thinking “What the fuck did I mean by that?”

Florida Living. Food. Library. Coffee. Trees.


I have lived in Galveston for six years and one of the things that brought me there was the architecture (more of the industrial and Down Town than the Victorian), and now it’s onto other travels and adventures and my first place, Hollywood, Florida, has really offered me a lot on the architectural front.

Not only that but the preservation that amazes me and the mid-century and art-deco that are my favorites. The city lay out (Hollywood, Miami especially which include the greenspaces, parks, trees, restaurants and shops, outside seating, bike boardwalks at the beach, a large spread of beach (and wash off systems and public bathrooms at the beach, which if Galveston took a lesson means that people will actually come off the beach to shop and eat at restaurants), the fact that they have recycling bins at the beach (eh hem, Galveston, stop making me compare.) And they have a more set up trash system at the beach which I see working for keeping it clean and making people care more than what I have seen in Galveston.

The boating, houses on water ways and the waterway/canals are so awesome and everything…traffic to boats to parks to beach to Down Town all seem to blend so easily. The bright and clean look of it here strikes me (on stucco and in the humid weather), and the art, and the recycling at the beaches, show that the city and the people put a lot into the beauty of Florida. There is seriously no dirty here. Everything is shiny, colorful and bright, and clean.

There is much to explore, and here I am absorbing it all.

The street art, artistic community of Hollywood, Florida, and the parks built for art are really awesome. The Art Park has an event just about every night and is only a bock away from where I stay, it’s beautiful with the most amazing huge trees by day, great picnic and reading. Classic Car shows, a Food Truck night, food and wine festivals, an Artwalk and more, every night. They have an entire gallery and stage building built just for glass blowing and have live shows as well as “make your own”. The city obviously puts a lot of money and focus into the artistic community and it’s a great blend of retired, young adult, families, and artists, and business. There are also a lot of art galleries and studios around here, too.

I’ve lost some of my pics but will try and replace/retake.


Morning Meditation.


I was talking to my sister yesterday about hair and makeup and how much our faces and styles have changed in our 30+ years, even the texture of our hair. We both enjoyed sharing old photos and comparing and searching for makeup and hair style ideas.

But the thing is…I can’t compare to a model or an actress for what kind of hair style I want and I certainly can’t compare to my younger self. I am not her. And I don’t wish to be. She was a young woman who has walked a pretty fascinating road and never would I take back a single of those steps, but I do believe in forward steps.

My hair may no longer be baby fine or golden but I have earned every gray hair and the darker suits me better….I’ve walked through many shadows since the days of nearly white halo like hair. The fine lines that may appear, the harder shape of my face….the older look is not age so much as world lived wisdom. Experience.
The width of my hips is womanhood that I carry proudly. My feet rarely wear heels because they’ve walked a million miles by now. My hands aren’t as soft because they know good work. My eye’s aren’t as naive because they’ve learned many lessons…the hard way.

The very few stretch marks I have remind me not that I can no longer have a child, nor of my loss, but of my experience at how strong a mothers love comes roaring like a lion in a very instant moment. The circles under my eye’s aren’t to be covered up because they are a sign of my tiredness, my tears and my heartache….but heartbreak is a sign that I have loved. I cherish that.

My nails are kept short because I have spent many days brushing the coats glossy of a horse and today I spend them typing not only stories…but memories and life and future. The callous on my feet are signs of a barefoot life and this is good for I have felt the softest of carpets underneath my feet, the hardness of stones upon mountains, the waters of rivers, the sands of many beaches and of every ocean coast, the tickling grass of summer and a closeness of Mother Earth herself.

My ears ring in constant and I have a loss of hearing in my age but I have listened to many musics of many tongue and creative mind. My eye’s are weak and without my glasses my fingers must creep and see for me but I have rested them upon years of fireworks in the night sky, stars in the blackest of country sky, sunsets from mountain tops and ocean side and have many memory of them in my mind.

I enjoy looking into the face of the young girl I once was, but never do I regret the one that looks back at me from a mirror every day now.

#MorningMeditation #MorningPondering #MorningCoffee #Thoughts #Womanhood #Age #Aging #Woman #IAmWoman