Originally posted on Plumb Wonderful:
This post is structured around the three Dharma Seals, as is most of life, it seems. Impermanence is permanent. Ten years ago, I was about to start a new job. It was only my fifth new job since the turn of the century. The startup that I had worked for…
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Plumb Wonderful
Originally posted on Kitty Ireland:
Hello, blog readers of yore! I have launched a new blog over at plumbwonderful.com. Plumb Wonderful focuses on health, habits, and travel (when I get to travel). Mostly it is a reflection of my journey to improve my health and fitness in my fifties. Since I last posted here, I…
Drinking Game of Thrones
As we begin the new season of Game of Thrones, may I suggest some drinking games? Drink when: “Winter” is mentioned, or for less drinking: “Winter is coming” or “Winter is here/ has arrived.” Tyrion drinks Dragons! Arya kills someone Cersei drinks Jon Snow pout-scowls Lady Mormont wins an argument Someone dies in a cringingly…
Halfway to Ninety
On October 22 this year, my grandma Pat would have been ninety years old, had she lived that long. She died in 1983, and I’ve often wondered what she might have done with all those extra years. She was just starting to explore her photography hobby. Her grandkids were about to become teenagers and would…
A Tribute to Grandpa Frank
In the cement-floored shady cool of the garage I would find Grandpa Frank, his legs coverall-clad and protruding from beneath one of his vehicles. The shiny forest green ’35 Model T. The plump ’46 sedan. Or maybe the powder blue F150 brought indoors for a minor repair. The garage door was always open in the summer…
A love story with missing pieces
This week I received the final batch of letters from Zip to my grandma, all the way up to August, 1945. It’s been heart-wrenching to read them. They’re not so much love letters as they are loneliness and longing letters. Zip wasn’t one for the “mushy stuff” as grandma complained in one of her diary…
Trapped in 1942
For the past few months I’ve been painstakingly transcribing my grandma’s diary from 1942. I say painstakingly because, wow, that girl had some undecipherable handwriting. I have a small advantage because I taught myself to write by tracing her grocery shopping lists in the mid-1970s. Her handwriting never improved, it just got more… mature. Grandma…
Vague and vaguerer
I seem to be losing focus, lacking connective tissues. The photos on my Flickr page… hundreds and hundreds of mosses, branches, western skies, with barely ever a human. And certainly none of those chummy shots of multitudinous shining smiles and raised glasses. Floating in some lonely ether. I don’t think this particular blog, with its…
on my commute
walk home, originally uploaded by kittyireland. every day I walk 2 miles to and from work, through a massive construction zone. I wonder if anyone will buy all of these future condos? meanwhile it makes for creepy photos. everyone should leave the car at home now and then.
Hello world!
Lemon zest adds life to the blandest cookies. Use in moderation.
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