Tag Archives: history


I’ve been struggling mightily for a week now, unable to figure out how to channel the sadness, anger, disappointment, rage, and downright despair I feel over the 2016 presidential election.

I really believed that, by now, I’d see a way forward. I thought I’d give it a week, sleep on it (a few times over), talk to friends, seek my enlightened family’s counsel, throw myself back into some good work, and things would start to settle themselves out.

I thought I’d be on a positive, problem-solving track. Or, at least, I thought I’d begin to see a clear path – to something.

But it’s not happening.  Continue reading

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This is my husband:


He’s wearing his grandfather’s Stetson, which he inherited today as part of a treasure trove of Pendleton shirts and jackets, amazingly hand-tooled and buckled belts, and Grandpa’s distinctive gold ring. Inside, it’s monogrammed “A.B.E.” for Andrew Burgess Eastwood (“Abe” being Grandpa’s nickname from his railroading days).  Continue reading

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It’s Columbus Day, and the internet and social media are rife with articles lambasting old Chris for being a generally terrible person.

Which he was.

But this is good – just a few years ago this wouldn’t necessarily have been the case. It makes me happy to see this stuff being shared in what is now our mainstream media; it’s about time all us white people held hands and admitted we actually don’t think it’s cool to feed live human babies to fierce war-dogs that have been trained to love human fleshContinue reading

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Doors = Done



I finally succeeded in hiring the perfect contractor. Best Value Home Improvements did a FLAWLESS job replacing all but one of the interior doors in my house (they all happen to be on the lower, non-entry level; we live on a hill, remember), removing one closet, building another, putting a pocket door in my master walk-in even though the ceiling slopes four inches, and replacing all the downstairs trim. Continue reading

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Setting Things Straight

Downstairs renovations are in full swing yet again here, and as often happens when the house is under construction, I’ve become an emotional, moody, unpredictable, insane bitch (which is apparently not that different from my day-to-day vibe lately!).

There’s something about tearing the walls of my house open that both causes my soul to spill over with joy at the promise of ACTUALLY living in my dream home some day, and simultaneously consumes it with hatred when I discover 100 years of sub-par f#@%ups hidden between sheetrock and joists and subfloors, all demanding a fix. Continue reading

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