Lol, I keep catching Joe snapping pics but each time I have been in the kitchen. I said “why all of a sudden are you taking photo’s of me in the kitchen?” He says “You mentioned that I never take photo’s, so I am taking them.” I say “But…of me just in the kitchen? I have been dressed up, out and about towns and travel, on the boats and docks, on the beach, in gardens, wearing nice clothes even, reading outside, whatever…but each time you take one I happen to be in the kitchen.” lol This guy…he tries.

This month marks three years of partnership living together and two years of full-time traveling together. We do love Galveston…but we see what it doesn’t offer for us particularly in some things we both truly want, so we continue to travel. We aren’t ready to settle down yet, even as we explore cities and towns and places with “Would I live here?” In mind. Currently we aren’t finished traveling…we are seeking our boat project for the next step (CUBA!, ok, and other islands and more, but I am most excited for Cuba), we do explore that parts and ports of America we also wish to spend most of our here-time in when that comes. So, from road to boat…we just aren’t ready yet. Now with the jeep rather than the jag, life has gotten even easier to jump in with pets and all and just road trip it, leaving the RV to be returned to, staying at AirBnB’s, camping, hotels….ok, I lie on the camping, though now that the weather is cooler we just might. We can cover a lot more miles and a lot more smaller roads and a lot more mountian are’as and a lot of off-road and so much exploration in the jeep on it’s own. And…we can pull over for coffee anytime without finding a location big enough to pull in with and park 40×8 feet with a height of 13.5 of massiveness. Believe me…once you drive such a beast you learn how uneasy it can be and how many obstacales can pop up. Even in towns, such as New England, where the RV parks are very far from the in-town places we wish to explore….and Joe and I aren’t a park it in the woods and chill type of RV’er…we truly enjoy exploring and traveling and we love cities and towns. So the jeep gives us much freedom. With the RV giving us a good base of freedom.

But in each city we always ask each other if it “ticks our boxes”. Recently I realized that I truly enjoy Fairhope…but felt that the town was very stepford wives, baby carriages cost the same as our jag, and too much…white. In the town at least. And for an artistic town, built FOR that, wtfuck was the art? And that while it offered a seaside life, I realised that I needed an added surfing lifestyle on my box list. Though the young of Fairhope do fish a bit, in other southern gulf towns I have truly wondered “What do the young people even do?” and that the surfing towns do offer a different “feel” that I call home.

We truly feel that New Orleans calls to us a lot…but as a part time home base, not full time. For our boat/water/surf/fishing boxes on the just doesn’t. But we both do have plans for more there…talk about art and diversity!

I haven’t gotten him out to the West Coast yet…and this PA gun loving guy is still weary of it altogether, but I have already turned him quite a bit from long distance showing him things that I love love love about California. We shall see. Honestly…why did I ever leave? It offers EVERYTHING. But even with many trips back since I moved away, will I feel the same call of home it was for me when I go back? The first dip of toes in the pacific I was just shy of twenty. Sooner than later I will be forty. Time changes a person…and her desires. And her home. Even then, though, I know that I often missed the rain and the storms of Texas and the South.
I don’t know. Weirdly…I have always been anti-snow living but maybe it is my not having to get out on a job trip each day in it life of writing that makes me sort of crave it. Our freedom now? It offers a monthly cabin in the woods or a seaside home rentals with a large fireplace in which to write…love…then leave it with great memories warm in my heart.

Our big box is often community. We both feel we lacked that….one we both once had and for many reasons had changed, lost, moved away, scattered, and just…wasn’t anymore, back on the island, but eventually, that is a big box we want. Traveling can make many friends but also be very solitary. But we both well know the feeling of solitude when in the middle of the crowd we know each name of. I will say, in the boat works we have had happening, our community has been growing..and that is also the community which speaks greatly to us.

Now…when we aren’t “happy” in one spot, or bored, or just, as I often say “Finished here, if for now, and ready to move to the next”…we can move. And we love to explore and that calls heavily to us both. I have always been a bit of a mover…
My first husband loved me for my “Free spirit” but then…that was why he hated me, too.
Right when we met, Joe sent me the poem or piece by Thomas Jefferson I believe it was, titled something like Curse of the Traveler.
It was about the travel curse he knew about…but also knew he must be a traveler and he always has been, too.

Surprisingly, we have traveled a lot…and not much at all. This is a big country, there is a lot to see. And we aren’t out for the big seven or the tourist attraction. And along the way we mosey, we sip, we stop, we enjoy, we soak in a place. And my writing has us going to certain places and staying a spell…sometimes sticking around except on “vacation” every four weeks for two where we will jump in the jeep and go go go a bit outside of that spot. We have walked every boat dock through the southern tip of Texas to the tip of the Keyes of Florida and then again up the East Coast, too. We have hiked hills and through woods and eaten our way pretty well through half of the American states thus far. But all the time I sit and find “The next place” we shall head to. Sometimes I seek it. Sometimes it comes to me. And we have many plans for the rest of this country…but so many for outside of it, too. Two years in and I don’t completely see a settling end to it in sight just yet.

Hopefully Joe will grab a photo of me NOT only in the kitchen.


Dear fellow White Women,
Here is an example of basic bitch. Don’t be like Megan. Don’t be basic.
This article is pretty spot on. I also call out NBC for knowing full well the resume and reputation of the person they hired, and at $17M a yr.
I mean…could we not find someone more …well-rounded? Educated? Open-minded? Worldly? Honest? Reachable? Teachable? Someone who has something to give to the nation she gets to speak to?
Wait…perhasp honest she is…she IS honest for what many Trump voting American White Women are. This is what they look like, think like, act like, talk openly like…or think privately like. Or as I call it, shadow talk…you know, those sort of comments like “I have a black friend so I am not racist” or even “I dated a black guy, so I am not racist”.
And that honesty is as honest as honest as that of “No Blacks Allowed” and not allowed to share a counter, or stay seated on the bus, or have a right to vote, or…slavery.
There ARE the basic white bitches (male or female) who believe in that America…you know…Trump’s AGAIN.
And that is a problem we had then…back THEN of slavery. Back THEN of killing Native American’s and stealing land. Back THEN of chaining humans and putting them on boats, kidnapping them from their homes, and selling them like cattle. Back THEN of rape, and nooses and white caps and sheets. Back THEN of “Not allowed” to sit, to vote, to loan, to rent, to own, to buy, to work.
Those people of AGAIN and THEN still exist. And this is the face of those people.
And this IS “Those people” now.
THOSE people who put children in cages today, don’t care of women’s child-bearing deaths, and think that black face is ok….that , essentially what she said was that “racism is ok. I don’t see a problem with it”.
And she stated “Not a problem when I was a kid”. She was born only two years after a white man shot MLK for being black. she was born seven years before the National Women’s Conference in Houston in 1977.
The funny part of a woman who doesn’t welcome change, is that in the 1970’s (she was born in ’70) she wouldn’t have her job, nor her job rights, and she already still has an overall career paid less than her male counterparts. She wouldn’t have her health rights, and not so long ago she wouldn’t have had her voting rights. Though she is one of those white basic bitches who had her voting rights long before black women had theirs but she doesn’t realise it. Or care? And there is even in the not long ago time of only our mothers that she wouldn’t have had her loan, home owner, renting without a husband, own bank account, buy a car on her own rights, either.
But, you know…she, and many Trump voting women like her seem to like that AGAIN idea.
They forget that their Republican men only see them not even a step better than a black “boy” of America. That they don’t see them having rights. That they fight daily to tear their rights away from them. Every. Last. One. Those rights that we women only have because they have been fought for both and nail. That to our white Republican men we “have our place”, and especially for Megyn Kelly, they should be seen and not heard, thus taking away her job altogether.
Can we round these women up for the next year and put them into a tiny Kansas town that would only allow them to live by that AGAIN mentality before our next election?
But Is it the one women’s opinion and mentality and…uneducated stupidity? (Except that I know she is educated, though not obviously worldly, yet that the world is there and that one must be REALLY hard at work at keeping their tiny white circle so actually tiny and white in today’s day and age) that I should be mad at as much as an entire network of NBC continuously hiring the Rosanne’s and the Megyn’s? Or should I just be (and I am) fed up with the all of it? But mainly, that women still sit on that side of the fence? Perhaps I am disappointed. I expect more of women. I expect better. As I do an entire network…but then again, that network is still run mainly by white old men…so there…there is no surprise. Kelly doesn’t realise she, as a woman, still doesn’t have any of the power because THEY are still above her, as much as she see’s people of color below her, THEY (white old men) see her below them.
I just “Can’t” with the fellow white women being so…basic. Especially an educated one such as this.
But then…what is educated? I guess I do find it hard to understand how anybody manages such a little white plain circle lacking any diversity of party, thought, action, reading, and influence. But then, as a white woman who has all of that, I also have seen how easy it is to enclose yourself into that as well. Honestly, though, in today’s media age, one must truly shut out a lot to be that way. I thank the gods for the open mind sponge soaking like personality I was born with naturally.
What is the last book that Megan Kelly read by a woman who wasn’t white? The last poem by a brown girl? The last essay by a black man? The last article by a woman of color who was also born in her same time but lived a very different life, or even almost the same in economics/location/demographics/type-but still so very different simply due to color? When was the last time she had lunch with a Democratic friend and actually had a great conversation on politics? when was the last time she LISTENED?
When was the last sit-down conversation with a person of brown skin? Off Camera? When was the last “meet for coffee” with a friend of another religion, party, background, color? When was the last time she even drove through a “different” neighborhood? Or walked into a restaurant owned by immigrants and ended up in a conversation about people’s views about her nationwide shared opinions? What is the last movie she watched with a leading role being a person of color? Or the last play or concert she went to that wasn’t “white”.
When was the last time she sat and thought “Are my opinion’s far more outdated than I keep my shoe collection?”
When was the last time she thought about the work of MLK or read a poem by Maya Angelou and THOUGHT about it. Really thought about it. And…what does she think? You can’t say “I respect MLK but think that segregation and oppression and blatant racism is ok.”
I think back to a conversation with a Jamaican-American man in his 40’s retired from the American Air-Force in San Antonio at a coffee shop in Pearl Brewery area…a total stranger. We began talking about travel. We started due to some books in my hand. We began talking real life and politics and about travel and his words on why black people don’t travel as much as white people (at least in hiking/RV’ing type situations) was that “Black people have been told to keep in their place for so many generations that it will take nearly that amount of time before we really feel we can step outside of that.”
This. Is. So. True.
You can’t undo generations of damage in only decades and you certainly can’t undo them when there is still basic racism running the country.
When is the last time Megyn Kelly had any such conversation?
Black face isn’t even shadow racism. It is in your face blatant. And if you aren’t sure…google can really help a girl out. But, so could a conversation with other people not like you, who it would affect or offend and asking “What is your thought on black face?”
Because, guess what? MY thought on it as a white woman doesn’t even matter…but a Black woman’s thought on it does. Period. Do I personally need more than that? No. Nope. Not at all. Black face isn’t meant to affect me. It isn’t meant to offend me. It isn’t ABOUT me. And I should not take my entertainment over the affects of a Black person and a systematic racism of a whole. So…I don’t get to really have two cares of a thought on it. I just shouldn’t. And don’t. But what I do get two cares about is not being a basic racist bitch. Because…I mean…even bad people shouldn’t be. And where I do care is to call out my fellow white women not to be basic bitches.
Megyn, if you need to figure out where to start on some actual educate yourself and widen outside of your white circle material…please let me know. I will even send you my personal copies of many things with all of my notes to get you started.
Until then…start with the latest book, Heavy. Or even some Baldwin. And add some Jesmyn ward and some Roxane Gay (youtube her, she is funny as fuck), or even call up Oprah and have a chat…like fucking serious. Go listen to a panel discussion with Stephanie Elizondo Griest, read the book by Fransisco Cantu, Read MLK, Maya Angelou, talk to Toni Morrison….you have ties, pull them. BE a white woman open to education. You HAVE that privilege!
However, here is the thing, to clarify. It isn’t up to black women to teach you to not be a basic bitch. Or black people at all. It IS up to me, a white feminist, to teach you. I always think reading is the way to go…and talking. And listening. Like as in…perhaps sit back and shut up and learn. Since most of your job is spent talking, but you still don’t seem to get it. So, read every book, article, essay you can from a variety of authors. (Psst, black people write books, too). Youtube discussion panels and lectures all day long, visit and attend, especially at some of these book festivals (San Antonio was an amazing one for this FYI and I expect they might be again in the spring ’19). Write letters and ask questions (heck, tweet)…talk to random strangers and to friends (hmm, do you have any not-white friends?) but don’t expect them to have to teach you, or even want to get into those discussions, either. They may be tired. It is not their job. But it is yours to seek. And today…it is really easy to seek. Heck…have breakfast at a Waffle House and just listen to the talk around you. Visit places in different states all over the country and do this. Visit Democratic events, neighborhood events, book clubs, college lectures. Sit in a coffeeshop and listen. I mean…the ways to learn are endless. Where a shirt that says #TrustBlackWomen (and take the time to look up what that means) and then walk in the world and see how you get treated for it, what reactions you get. What conversations can be started. Endless. Learning and seeking to learn is endless. What a lovely thing that is.
But there is no reason to be basic. Do you LIKE being racist? Do you truly prefer it? Do you really think you are a better race? A superior person? that “blacks have their own place”? That black face is really ok? That it even matters what you think on it? I mean…that would be like wearing a swastika and thinking “I don’t see the problem.” Would you think that is ok? Or…oy…should I even ask? Maybe you do. Do you think that is the right thing to be like? And if so, why? Really? I’d like to know.
This isn’t one woman’s opinion of black face. Black face as a whole and this type of opinion is a systematic issue. And one woman who speaks to millions is also…well, that. One network who allows that platform is, too. An entire system. One sign that said “White’s only” seems pretty small. A lot of signs and an entire law and right to have to be fought for becomes a lot bigger. But it only takes one to be a part of that bigger problem. It only takes one small thing to be a part of that bigger problem.
Even if that bigger problem is what you truly want to stand for….and that is a very sad thing to be, that bigger problem won’t win. As a white woman, one white woman, I am only a small part of not allowing it to win.
#MegynKelly #BasicBitch #Racism


Had to go to a Wal-Mart today.

I swear it was a three mile trek between food and toothpaste. Over a mountain. Uphill. Both ways. Through snow. Barefoot. And I got lost. I thought I would never get home again. It was like a wild jungle and I lost all sense of direction. I didn’t see the sky for days. I lost hours of my life. It might have been days.

I thought I’d never find the door, have to pitch a tent, lay out some blankets, start up a grill, and cook up some hamburgers, and read a trashy romance, maybe watch some TV, overnight.

I intended to grab only a couple of items which would have cost under $25. I somehow spent $104.

Cookies were tempting. I did find fruit.

And then…the glorious sunlight of the doorway and I thought my eye’s decieved me of this mirage until I was safely far far away from the big building that swallows the people.
I think I can sit down and talk to any soldier who has been to war:
“I survived Vietnam/Iraq/Afghanistan” They’ll say.
“I survived Wal-Mart” I will say, heavily, like I still carry the burden upon my weary shoulders and have yet to sleep through the night.
“You win” They will feel my pain. Cheers with coffee.

And so it is…


This won’t be the first time a very bad mistake gets voted in. It won’t be the first time that politics are a shit storm. It won’t be the first time that our rights are held in the hands of man.

And it won’t be the last.

I can do all of the things that I can do, and I have done, and I will continue to do. I will do my part politically, activist, putting to use my writing, and my voice, and my vote. And whatever else I come to.

At the same time…I continue with living life itself because that is life itself. The politics will happen, and for me, always be there. At the same time, the world does not stop spinning. Until it does.

A big part of what makes this world spin is the breath of its people. The fight in their souls. The art. The writing. The music. The colors of paintings. The teachings. The seekers.

I read once that when a person feels that their life is chaotic…make your bed. I have always been a bed maker and had a clean house but a messy closet. So I began organizing and cleaning my closets, too. And I began focusing on my home cleaning and organizing as well in a deeper sense. no longer was it a chore…but it was now taking care of my home. My favorite place in the world. My mind can be put at an instant calm. I will breath deep, focus that each thing I do means a service for my in a service for one you love. “Ahhh, the sink of dishes is clean. Ahhh, the bed looks so nice when it is made” I think in my mind upon each task.
I once read that Buddhists polishing the wooden rail of a stair case and scrubbing the floors was a task of service in this sense…or something similar. And for me, this is a service for my home, thus myself…yes, selfish…but also…home. That word holds the world, the the heart, and all that makes it beat. It becomes bigger than selfish. I have learned that home doesn’t have to be much…perhaps not even a bed upon wood floors, empty bare rooms…but in that I relished the sunlight and the many windows and the space to think. Because it was still home.

We nurture those we love (if we are not of ill heart), so…ourselves. Our home as the living breathing heart beating thing that it is. Those we love. I might yell at Joe while cooking a meal for him but damn it if that man will get his nutrition in for the day! And the same our home can be when the floor we washed yesterday needs washing again today.

So, today I cleaned…deeply. I organized. I reorganized, I recleaned. I took care of my home. And I breathed deeply and allowed the chaos of the world around me to slow within my own mind and my own home.

I also spent time organizing my work, preparing for not only the next 30 days, the next few months, but also the next year. This also calmed the chaos.

For me.

In calming the chaos, I, we as people , gather strength…have a moment to breath. Think. Calm in the midst and be clear.

And we gather ourselves for what is next. More able and prepared to handle it.

When it seems the world is burning down…we can think of other tactics we need to make things better. This isn’t the first burning. We can do this. And my bed is made while I do.