The Beach

In 2008, my mother and I traveled to Puerto Plata in the Dominican Republic. One of my Spanish cousins was getting married on the island and as an added bonus, we would see many of my relatives who were flying in from Spain.

Sewing for Beginners

I actually wanted to learn how to sew by hand, but I guess that particular skill is no longer taught. As I entered the classroom, I eyed the rows of tables laden with fancy, computerized, expensive white sewing machines.

The other ladies in the class exchanged tips about exotic mechanisms called "bobbins," and referred to ironing as “pressing.” I grimaced and wondered about the distinction. Did I know how to “press?” I thought I could iron, but could I press?

Well, resolute, I decided (as I took my seat in front of one of the gleaming blockish machines) that if they could out wrangle the contraption, so could I.

On Losing a Son in the Foggy Pocket

By the time we had visited San Francisco State University a couple of times, we were forced to come to terms with a perplexing reality: the campus was perpetually shrouded in mist and topped with heavy gray skies. The very air was, frankly, damp.

The Aisle of Death

The first months I spent with my baby daughter were the happiest of my life, even living in the Great White North.

Even as a newborn, even slouched unbecomingly in her bouncy chair, she was always serene, composed, and busy taking in this big new world. I talked to her incessantly, from morning until night, and she gummed her enormous brown rubber pacifier and weighed the merit of my ramblings.

A Winter Day, A Summer Day

September 2009

Because I’m not living my days the same way anymore, I don’t want to forget them; a typical winter day; a typical summer day. In 2009, my daughter was 16 and my son was 15.

During the school year, my alarm went off at 6:20, five days a week, not really an alarm because the shrillness would be too jarring, so I made sure I woke to soft music from the 70s. My daughter had a 7:00 class, so she and her father were already up and moving around. They would leave at 6:50 and then it was my turn to take my son to school at 7:30.

The Island Bus

Whidbey Island

July 2012

On the cusp of middle age, I am just starting to explore what else I can do with my time now that I’m not raising children. If I let myself think—really think—about how much the last 20 years gave me, and how much they took out of me, well, I’d put down this pen and cry, and then take a nap.

Abnir and Me

The summer after I graduated from high school I traveled to Europe with two friends (who were a couple), a small backpack, and a Eurail pass.

At the time I couldn’t imagine ever needing another single thing.

The Discovery

She asked me twice what I wanted for dinner; which, in Vermont, really meant lunch.

“Anything is fine, Grandma.” I thought I was safe saying that, but didn’t know for sure since I had not spent much time with this woman.

Parents play a cruel trick on their children when they choose to live on the opposite coast.

A Look Back

The first thing I noticed when I walked into the church was that the purple carpet was gone, replaced by elegant cream-colored tiles. I hadn’t been in the church for four years and I almost missed the dated carpet in that awkward shade somewhere between lavender and purple.

A Moment of Freedom

When my daughter was younger, she just loved to acquire and pretend to care for a variety of unusual pets. When Sara was eight, she captured a “leaf bug,” or katydid. She was momentarily ecstatic and housed it in a mesh-covered box/carrier.

The New Americans

When we’d been back in Sacramento for five years, I mentioned to a friend that I needed to apply to have the children's citizenship changed from Canadian to U.S. (because they were both born in Canada).

Life and Death on the Wasanuri River

In 2007, my mother and I flew to Africa to join a “land tour,” which turned out to consist of 20 participants and 3 guides of mixed competency riding on a converted refuse hauler and rattling their way around Kenya. But once the shock wore off, we forgot about the “rustic” accommodations and the lack of flushable toilets (or any toilets) and surrendered ourselves to the adventure that lay ahead.

Because quite an adventure lay ahead!

The Tornado Strategy

My daughter, in the first grade, was a dreamy, unpredictable child, and it came out in quirky ways. 

Nothing I could really point to and say, “See! What an awful kid!” Still, she could be considerably annoying and was always easily distracted. It was a full-time job trying to keep her on track and I already had a full-time job.

Lost and Found

When I was fifteen, I earned my learner’s permit but couldn’t legally drive without an adult in the car. One night, my mother’s car broke down on the other side of town, and since no one else was available, my father took me with him to pick up the abandoned car. 

The Creative Home Invader

When my daughter was seven years old, my mother-in-law came for a visit. One evening, I came home from work to find that my young son had a raging fever. I bundled him up and drove him to the clinic, where the doctor determined that he had a double ear infection and an eye infection.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, when we returned home, I got the shock of my life. 

Yes, the SHOCK OF MY LIFE.

My Kingdom for a Flashlight

One year in May, my husband flew up to Canada to spend time with his grandmother, who was very ill with cancer. I was home alone with the kids. One night, I went into the garage and plugged in the treadmill, thinking I would try to exercise a little…what a mistake!

Camping for Feminists

One summer, my younger sister and I decided we would go camping with our small children and without our husbands. Both of our husbands worked weekends, and if we waited for them, we knew we’d never go anywhere! So, we packed up our four kids (her youngest was three months old!), and headed for Lake Tahoe in our minivans. 

My Northern Alberta Baby

It was 10:45 on a Sunday night, December 27, 1992. I was more pregnant than I cared to be and the baby was four grueling days late (although the doctor told me three weeks earlier that I would deliver at any moment!!).

Icky the Indestructible Madagascar Hissing Cockroach

“Right off the top of my head, I would say it’s a terrible idea to bring home a hissing cockroach.”

My nine-year-old daughter tossed her curly head and prepared for battle. It wouldn’t be outright rebellion—no, that would be undignified. Sara preferred a quiet but relentless clashing of wits, during which she systematically dismantled any argument I was foolish enough to present.

The Problem with Exercise

Most nights in the summer, I drive (!) the six blocks to my parents’ house and swim laps in their pool. Well, last night was no different, except that when I went to place my foot on the first step to enter the pool, a slight movement caught my eye.

A Dog's Life

One day in 1998, my father stopped by to ask me, pointedly, when I planned to get my children a dog. We had moved back to California from Canada, and had only been in the house a short time.

I replied, vaguely, “I haven’t really thought about it yet, Dad.”

Well that wasn’t going to satisfy him.

Short Biography

I was born in Aviano, Italy, just north of Venice. My father served in the military (Air Force) and we lived in Italy, Spain, and then Sacramento. My first language was actually Spanish, and my sisters and I didn’t speak English until we attended an American school at Travis Air Force Base. I was eight when I first learned to speak English, almost overnight, out of sheer necessity.