My grandma says I have a heart of gold, because I bring her Girl Scout Cookies when they aren’t on her shopping list, and carry change in my pocket for the Salvation Army kettle and for the soft-eyed teenagers with pet-rescue collection buckets at intersections on Saturdays. I don’t feel very gold-hearted much of the time, though I do try, I suppose.

I’ve actively resisted coming here for nearly two months, since the last couple posts were so raw, so painful. I still ache for my dear little Louisa, I miss her weight on my back in the middle of the night, the way she’d sleep bolstered against me without fail. It’s grief that’s stirred into the anniversary of my dad’s death, an anniversary that knocked me around in unexpected ways. He would have been on the phone after Hurricane Sandy, making sure I was okay, that grandma was okay. And oh my God, how he would have fucking loved all the fuss around The Hobbit. When I see the movie, I will bring a bit of his ashes with me and try to feel the massive joy he would have felt for the whole thing.

So anyway, what the hell? I say that I avoided my dear old website because the last posts were such a fucking bummer, right? And the first thing I do is dip right on back into the morbid goonery. Chin up, Kit. Things aren’t really all that bad, all things considered.


I celebrated my birthday with a weekend away. A little road trip, a writer’s retreat, and a couple of contemplative days in a quiet bed and breakfast, working on my novel. The change of scene shook me up in a good way, rattled some pesky plot points into place, gave me some good ideas that magically help resolve some of the nebulous things that bothered me about my story. The novel has grown from a NaNoWriMo lark to a kinda-epic Gen X bildungsroman, and there’s just this… thing… that happens when I’m living in that world. It’s scary and satisfying in a way that nothing else is.

A lot of my writing energy goes into that place, but it feels good to be here too. How about I check back in a few days and say hello again. Push the weeping-wound posts back a bit further into history, hm? It’s a deal.

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