Art: Baby Piggies and Ponies

Perhaps the most satisfying moment

In an adult woman’s life

Is not giving birth, hosting Thanksgiving,

Or paying her first mortgage,
But rather in that sweetest of moments

When growing-out hair can be

Slicked into a greasy, baby ponytail.

Success is finally mine!


Art: On Becoming Elvis

In the morning

When the sun creeps in–Or, the son, whichever comes first–

Eyes are unfocused, head is pounding, sinuses full.

In the daytime

When I put the babe–Our youngest son–down for a small nap,

Relief surrounds me, yet a sense of maudlin kicks in. He won’t do this forever; thank God.

Running after him exhausts me, as it should. Otherwise,

In the evening,
When all is quiet, there is no need to put
my head to the pillow, mind racing.
Until it isn’t. Until…

It is morning.

When the sun creeps in–Or, the son, whichever comes first–

Eyes are unfocused, head is pounding, sinuses full.

Art and Humor: Simple Dinner Delayed


Thai Kitchen rice noodles soaking in a bowl on the counter,

and a bag of mixed kale and broccoli beside it,

I glance up at my husband and laugh,

“I have no idea what I’m making for dinner,”

Rolling my eyes and continuing,

“Because that’s the way the best meals start!”


Slowly draining the noodles, adding the broth, the vegetables,

the chicken, the ginger, the special blend of pepper,

I peruse the counter, examine the ingredients,

and finally acknowledge the dish that’s before me:

I’ve taken nearly an hour to make

glorified, 3-minute Top Ramen

Art & Humor: Tiny Builders and the Agony of De-feet

A former dancer, I know the steps

the routines, the scenery, the partners

and how to coordinate with and clear them all.

If ever I find the mental strength and intuitive ability

to fly free across my living room floor

without suffering injury from a young engineer’s building block,

(be it Lego or Bristle, cleaned up on the hour),

bestow upon me an award greater than I have ever received while dancing.

Or perhaps now slippers are in order.

Humor & Art: Cankersaurus

Canker sore on the roof of my mouth

Crowding my soft palate

And making me gag

You announce your entrance so early.

A minor irritation, an itch

You are accompanied for days with a prayer

That indeed you are not what you truly are.

Could you be…

A minor injury from a toothbrush?

A transient virus, an irritated taste bud?

But no, here you are!


After a rough night’s sleep, spent worrying I have

A sore throat.

No, it’s just you, Cankersaurus, and predictably,

You have brought a smaller friend.

Someday, you’ll grow together

Creating a full-blown Cankersaurus Monster.

I will wince while eating. My eyes will water

And I must endure the jokes that I have herpes

Just to add insult to injury.