(from about 2015) I am wearing the last of my mother's nightgowns. When I brought them home, I could hold the pile up to my face and breathe deeply of her lingering presence. They were the only nighties I wore for years, until one by one, they became ragged and torn beyond use. I don't know why the blue one lasted longest despite fraying cuffs and thinning fabric. These night gowns were my mother's final wardrobe.Her everyday wear when she had grown too frail to do more than walk with help from the pink recliner where she slept to the swivel chair by the table and television. She called it her command post, where she greeted her stream of caregivers and visitors, watched Jeopardy and cheered the UConn Lady Huskies basketball team. She reminded me of a baby bird the way her short silky hair stood up like pin feathers and her mouth would stay open from her attempts to breathe naturally.

Hello writers! If you missed our lunar eclipse workshop yesterday, here are the prompts...it's not too late, the eclipse energy is still strong. Spend 8 minutes free-writing on the two questions below and share in the comments if you'd like. What right now is being eclipsed out? What right now is being eclipsed in? We'd love to read what you write :) Thank you @Lisa Loving, @Cate Fitt, and @Beth Jasper for your beautiful writing in the worshop...I'd love for you to share! Here's mine: What's being eclipsed out? Centuries of bullshit, co-dependency and people pleasing--even with my DOG! Over-editing. That eternal critic shapeshifter who sneaks around in different costumes. Can I eclipse out waiting for my ship to come in and learn to sail my own damn boat? Can I eclipse out the straight jacket of good girl, good wife, good mother? Can I eclipse out the illusion that I have to be good in order to be loved? What's being eclipsed in? Trust in the ever winding curvy-ass spiral road of my life. Trust that I won't accidentally Thelma and Louised myself off cliff or get stuck in the endless maze of traffic on 64. I'm eclipsing in trust in the sacred Goddess essence of my being in this transitory time of my life between known worlds and addresses. I eclipse in vigor and enthusiasm and exuberance for what I do, for what we share for being wholy alive. I eclipse myself back into the center of my very own life.

August 26, 2026 Recently I wrote about learning to listen, about listening as the other person was talking, instead of planning what I was going to say when they stopped speaking. Aspects of listening involve observing the speaker's tone of voice that holds emotion, facial expressions, physical demeanor. Depending on these qualities, the same words can hold value and vastly different interpretations. As I write this, I realize how much we are deprived of observable information now with our disembodied means of communication, texting and emails. Our words and emotions are easily misunderstood. A joke is designated with a laughing emoji, to be certain the recipient understands the remark as sarcastic rather than insulting. During the zoom writing experience with Valley as our mentor, each person's voice is given the time for us to listen. Occasionally one of us may be moved to respond or be inspired towards a new thoughtful path, more often we continue recording our own thoughts. There are people I have written with for years knowing at the most intimate of levels, yet never met in person, and not even knowing their surnames. This way of sharing deeply has helped me become a better listener. My fellow writers have taught me there is always more to any story, even mine. When I took my first workshop with Valley, back in the Chop Suey days, I had been asked to make some Etsy articles more personal, less formal, and I needed help. Years ago, I kept journals, a form of retaliation, because my boyfriend kept one and it became a habit. I stopped during my first marriage because I did not want my husband to ever discover what I might have written. His unsubstantiated jealous rages were too scary. I could not trust his reaction to my honest thoughts. Now since writing with Valley and my fellow writers all these years there are stacks of handwritten journals in my cupboard. Every few years I am inspired to transcribe something I have written. With my recent liberation from obligations and pain, now is a good time to continue with that project. A few years ago, I was given the opportunity to create a book with stories and pictures for posterity, a grandpa's memory book type thing.