I’ve lived through Underwoods, IBM Selectrics, encyclopedias, laptops, and now AI. Every new technology has its champions and detractors. But AI raises a bigger question: if we don’t entirely trust governments, corporations, or the technology itself…who exactly do we trust?
A couple from Boquete checked into the California inn where my son works. They knew my former husband. They also had opinions about Dianne. What a shock when they found out who was checking them in.
When I left my backpack on a train in Seville, I thought I had lost something irreplaceable. Inside was a small jar containing my mother's ashes. This is the story of a promise, a journey to Spain, and a garden of yellow roses at the Alhambra.
Kali isn’t chaos—she’s the force that strips away illusion. So why are powerful women like her so often rewritten as dangerous?
Power, perspective, and the quiet authority to define what counts as “nuance.”
A small defense of the word derring-do after a writers’ group insisted it didn’t exist. From Chaucer to swashbuckling heroes, this reflection explores the joy of language, the writing life, and letting go of self-imposed deadlines.
Shortly after my mother died, a group of my womyn friends gave me a small potted rose bush to commemorate her. It wasn’t much to look at—no buds, a few wilted leaves, weary from transport and neglect. But there it was nonetheless. A living thing. A promise. A few days before Christmas, after returning from her memorial service, I came home and noticed the rose had put out a single bud. I watched it gather itself. On Christmas Eve, it opened—pale yellow, edged with deep fuchsia pink. On Christmas morning, it released a soft, old-fashioned rose scent.
Grief sucks. My mother died on October 10, and although she was ready to go, I wasn't ready for the size of the absence she left behind. Most days I function; then suddenly it hits me again—she is gone. She will never again be who she was.
A North Carolina girl falls in love with coffee, moves to Panama, buys a farm on the side of a volcano, and discovers a new home, a new life, and a harvest worth celebrating.
Sex, shame, forbidden paperbacks, and a Pontiac Bonneville—my early “sex education” was stranger than fiction. This Behind the Scenes post dives into playground secrets, drug store scandals, and the origins of desire that still fuel my writing. Coming of age in the '70's.
