We drove to the beach on Sunday and for the first time in a long time, I went into a total bikini-envy funk. Northern California beaches...

We're back from our trip to Nebraska and I'm filled with both gratitude and sadness. The grandiose part of myself always wants to go...

I missed writing my blog last week because there was a lot going on: several days of crushing despair also known as PMS, a lost and found cat, some mysterious piles of poo that have appeared near our garage and back door. (Either a serial killer with Chron’s Disease is stalking us or a very, very large raccoon is in our midst. If my family turns up dead from knife wounds or rabies, the mystery will be solved.) I also had to go to the dentist. Going to the dentist is like goin

The Fourth Annual Pat Schneider poetry contest is open to submissions postmarked on or before July 1st, 2014. Submissions can be up to...

I saw that great quote by Anton Chekhov and had a lot of ideas for my post this week, all revolving around the famous writing refrain:...

When my sister died, I was twenty. For the first few days after the funeral, I would forget while I was asleep. Then I’d wake like it was any other day. Something, the feel of the shag rug on my feet or the sight of my wool coat slung over the back of a chair, would spark the memory and the story would come crashing back. The icy roads, visiting her crumpled Fiesta at the tow yard, smashed but still full of her crazy shit: shoes and books, a butane-powered curling iron, packa