003.

We turn out the porch light and sort through the candy.

I see him picking pieces out of the cauldron.

My heart sort of sinks when I watch him. I feel . . . bad? Guilty?

Guilty.

I look at the teenager and say, “Maybe you should have gotten candy tonight, then the two of you could have traded like you and your sister used to.”

“What,” the littlest says, overhearing and grabbing a chair at the island, too.

“Yeah,” says the teenager, “Sis and I used to pour our candy on the floor, sort it, and trade for our favorites. Like, I’d give her a Snickers for two Milky Way.”

The littlest thinks for a moment and says, “Well, Sis isn’t here anymore* and you don’t Trick-or-Treat, so I don’t have anyone to do that with.”

Guilt. Definitely guilt.

*Sis is our college freshman.

002.

I startled myself awake. 

Do you ever do that?

You know, like when dream you is feeling so much, too much, the weight of emotions wakes you up?

That was me at 4:34AM. 

Well, sort of.  

Because dream me thought I was awake, but also saw itself pulling The Lovers, inverted, with their skeletal arms wrapped around each other and a pomegranate oracle card. Since I have neither of those cards in any of my decks, dream me knew I was still sleeping.

So, hello 4:34AM. 

I hope all of Scorpio season isn’t like this. 

001.

 I’ve missed it.  

The full moon, that is.

I always seem to these days.  

Honestly, I feel the new moon’s arrival more acutely. Isn’t that odd, I think. I wonder what it says about me that the absence of moonlight has a greater pull.

Of course, the dreams were all over the place. That’s the only marker I have for the full moon these days. Restlessness and dreams that are so disjointed sleep feels pointless.

Maybe the full moon missed me, too.  

The Wild In-Between.

So. I did a thing. And, really, it's been my whole life in the making. But, also, it's taken me about three years of writing for this first step. 

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And, see, I was going to wait until October, because that was the deadline I had set for myself--be a published author by October 2018.

But, see, this thing happened recently wherein I had to ask myself if waiting was playing small. Not that playing small is bad, just that playing small isn't something I am willing to do anymore. 

And I was.  Playing small, I mean. Being scared. Letting my fear of failure and my perfectionism force me to second guess myself. And in all my almost 38-years fear of failure never brought me anything but heartache.

As you'll see if you buy my book.

My book. It sort of blows my mind that I can type that really, but it's true. I wrote a book. And you can buy it. Or gift it. Or look at the cover with love and longing. Or pretend you read it and write me a raving review (don't worry, I'll keep that secret between us). 

Or do all of the above AND write me a raving review (reviews mean so, SO much to authors--trust me).

Either way, no more waiting. No more playing small.

I wrote a book. 

For a signed copy, please visit my shop. A limited amount of signed pre-orders are available.

Oh, by the way . . .

I wrote a book.

Well, not like a book book. It's not a novel kind of book, but rather a collection of poetry kind of book.

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I'm expecting the arrival of a second proof within the next week or two, but after final approvals, the intention is to offer a limited amount of signed pre-orders by the end of August and have it available for regular release by October.  So, if it sounds like something you might be interested in, keep an eye on this space or visit my Instagram account @thewildinbetween.

Thank you all, so much, for your continued support.

A Wild 154 Days: 001

I wake from his good morning kiss, then hear the distinct beep of the coffeemaker as he turns it on for me before leaving. My head is throbbing, but it only takes a moment to register that it is indeed Friday, and the Full Buck Moon hangs heavy against the inky sky. Full moon hangover already or a precursor to the show?

No matter; I have to see her. So, I slip out to the yard as quietly as I can, feet leading me toward the light spilling across the side of our home.

There she is, pregnant with possibilities, Mars her companion. I marvel a moment, snap a quick photo, and then steal back inside.

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I pour a cup of coffee, make my way to my desk, grab my deck, and light a candle.

It's time.

This blood moon is a siren calling me back to the cards, and it is fortuitous that, from today, there are 154 days until my 38th birthday--just enough time to make it through two tarot decks if I pull one card a day and three cards to celebrate my birth.

#AWild154Days of tarot starts here, lovelies.

I may ask a different question each day, but today I started with the question I always seem to ask: What do I need to know today?

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And Death stared up at me.

Which is fitting, I suppose, as this full moon eclipse has been referred to as one of not just transition, but rebirth. Which is fitting, I suppose, as my creative world is shifting a bit with the upcoming release of my collection of poetry, The Wild In-Between. Which is fitting, I suppose, as it seems my Capricorn sun is always in a state of transition, of adjusting, of starting over and shedding.

Death is a welcomed harbinger of change.

Honestly, all I could think of when I saw it was "Oh! Thank goodness it isn't The Tower." lol

So.

If you'd like to join in on this tarot journey, please do and use the hashtag because I'd love to see your throws. There are no hard and fast rules; I will be pulling daily and sharing on social media, but you can participate as much or as little as you wish.

If you just want to follow along, follow the hashtag on Instagram, check my account @thewildinbetween, or visit here for updates.

Happy full moon, babies!

* Deck: Nomad Tarot

There’ll be no one left to tell our story.

It dawned on me this morning that the United States is a sinking ship.

We are a Titanic with exaggerated, mythical abilities that truly was never built to help all its passengers survive.

See, whatever some of us thought we were, we aren’t.

And some of the first class passengers are just now realizing this.

And some of the first class passengers have always known there aren’t enough lifeboats.

And it’s all hands on deck, but no one is saving us. No . . . no, instead they’re making sure the gates are locked on the third class passengers while the hull floods.

They never intended for us to survive. 

And it’s been women and children first, sure, but instead of helping them, they’re caging them. 

And the rats are fleeing, but not before infecting everything and everyone they can. Because if they can’t have the run of things, they don’t give a damn about leaving a plague in their wake. 

And the water is coming up fast, sometimes faster than we can climb or run or swim, and we feel frozen in place.

Some of us are drowning.

Some of us are jumping. 

Some of us are fighting through the numbness and pain to make it out alive, knowing—knowing—that what awaits us will likely be more treading of water in the darkness before help arrives.

If help arrives.

And the captain doesn’t care about the sinking of this ship because he steered us to the sharks on purpose. 

And the captain doesn’t care about the sinking of this ship because his heart’s already an iceberg. 

So, if we’re to survive this, we need to listen for every whistle of distress.

If we’re to survive this, we need to make room in the lifeboats, turn toward the fray, and risk capsizing to save as many lives as we can. 

if we’re to survive this, we have to realize there is room on the door.  

A summoning. Twenty-three.

1. He makes enough coffee for the both of us so these 4AM wake ups hurt a little less.

Just a little.

2. We're finally getting around to her senior portraits today. I'm not sure either of us are ready.

3. Tomorrow is the last final of the semester. I'm so ready.

4. I want to be here more. I think I've said that before. I know I have. But it is still true. Is anyone else moving back to blogging?

5. This could be a five things sort of deal. Or three. Maybe even seven. Let's just see, okay? Okay.

Five things: a summoning. Twenty-one.

1. Graph the equation , the question reads and I am reminded, yet again, why I hate math.  

Also? Fractions suck ass.  

2. I’m the mom in the pick up queue bumping Biggie, and I don’t even care if it garners looks. If you don’t turn up 2Pac or Biggie when they come on the radio or up on the playlist, we can’t be friends.  

3. I’ve been crying daily. I don’t know if the world is crueler, if I am softer, if it’s a mixture of both, or if maybe I am just exhausted over all of it. In any case, it feels like my heart is an open wound, and I’m trying to figure out how to deal with the privilege of being able to feel this way. 

4. It feels like winter in SoCal, and I wonder if the Japan earthquake in 2011 adjusting the earth’s axis means it shifted what we know to be the cycle of seasons. So, maybe February is now the start of winter instead of December, and so on.

Maybe the combination of global warming and the shift is what is creating weather that seems unseasonable. 

5. Here. And isn’t that some sort of gift.  

Five things: a summoning. Nineteen.

1. I'm not sure whether or not being here is a sign of moving on or coping, and isn't that a fucking luxury.

2. I woke up at 5AM this morning, having forgotten to turn off my alarms, and let myself watch a movie on Netflix.

Things still feel hella heavy, but I'm trying to be aware of just how lucky I am to be here. To have my children safe under my roof. To not be in mourning.

3. Study runes.

4. I don't know what to say.

5. Maybe you don't, either?

Five things: a summoning. Seventeen.

1. She stole my formatting, and then replied with some condescending nonsense that basically regurgitated what I had already shared.  

I wanted to reply Don’t come for me unless I call you, but tried being more tactful instead. 

I hope she read between the lines.  

2. Happy Gooey Hearts’ Day!

May today be but a reminder of how you are loved daily rather than the one day you feel loved.  

3.  Spaghetti for dinner, and I’m just not feeling it, you know? 

4. It was gloriously grey all day and now the sun is out. I wish it would’ve stayed away a little longer. 

5. Clothing designers really don’t design for curvy, petite women.  

Five things: a summoning. Sixteen.

1. It’s chilly today. The kind of chilly that makes us open all the windows in the house. The kind of chilly that feels like relief in our lungs. 

I don’t miss the sun.  

I often think we live/I was born in the wrong state.  

2. Fleur de sel caramels. Their perfect chewiness. The way they melt on my tongue.  

3. Eucalyptus in the shower. It scents the air and, if I’m being honest, just looks really pretty against the white tiles.  

4. Research projects in the school queue. I just started and already I’m ready to be graduated.  

5. Dear Universe, I would love to work in a local library or bookstore. Please help me make that happen.  

Five things: a summoning. Fifteen.

1. Is it weird to not want to wear pants? I feel like it is weird . . .  and, yet, it feels cathartic, too. 

2. He dances in the kitchen for me, then irons the boys’ clothes so I can sleep in a little longer tomorrow morning.

Acts of love.  

3. Playing Tooth Fairy, and wondering how long before he, too, stops believing.  

4.  Two loaves of banana bread with chunks of walnuts and salted butter, fresh from the oven. Warm water with lemon.

5. We stop to see the puppies again. I want that Saint Bernard, sweet little girl that she is.  

Five things: a summoning. Fourteen.

1. Grey skies and an open moonroof, my hand reaching for the mist. 

2. I walk in the door and he’s already insisting on making me something to eat.

He crisps the ciabatta perfectly.  

He always does. 

3. She looks so grown. My heart sort of hurts and soars.  

4. We can sit under light blankets and wear hoodies and have the windows open. This weather, it is glorious.  

5. Homework can wait. Right now, I just want to snuggle.  

Five things: a summoning. Thirteen.

1. I send him two photos. One of me and O looking sweet, the other of me and O trying to look creepy. He replies, I’m a lucky guy, and means it sincerely. 

There are so many levels to his amazingness.  

2. Having a history of disordered eating is one of the best and worst things I have ever done for myself.  

This realization struck me on the way to class. Funny how an empty car can clear space in one’s mind.  

3. Why aren’t jeans made in half sizes, too? 

Fourteens are too big, but twelves are just a little too tight.  

4. Nitro cold brew.  

5. I start my kinesiology lab tomorrow and find myself looking forward to getting back to running. Which is both surprising and a little confusing.  

Five things: a summoning. Twelve

1. I wander around aimlessly before a shower. Bare skin covered in ink.

I’m beginning to hate having to cover them with clothes. 

2. What do I need to know, I ask the cards.  Strength, they say. 

I don’t know if their answers come from me or the cosmic dust or some deity somewhere taking an interest in me, but I can tell you they always have the answers. 

Even if they aren’t ones I want. 

3. The perfect cup of tea. 

4. Long conversations and the hoarseness after. Worth it.

5. Standing in front of my Health 100 class to introduce myself and feeling like I was running a race, my heart was beating so fast.  

I really, really dislike public speaking.  

Five things: a summoning. Eleven.

1. When you’re a fixer and someone you love has a situation you can’t fix. That feeling. 

2. He says, I never hit her or got physical or anything like that, but I knew I needed help.  Everyone E meets has a story they want him to hear. I hope it helps them to get it off their chests.

3. Power moonroof. Because I can go without sunny days, but the moon? We’re involved.  

4. Love is a verb.  

5. I am lucky. I am lucky. I am lucky.  

Five things: a summoning. Ten.

1. I don’t show up Saturday. The day is long and the time is short, and I could guilt myself about it, but I want to be here because I want to and not because I feel obligated.  

I am not beholdened to my words—this is a partnership.

2. Stop. Think. Breathe.  

Reminder to self.  

3. I looked in the mirror and thought, I wish I could go out with no pants on

This is what healing looks like.  

4. Do you think other couples are like us?, I ask him. I hope there are; everyone should be this known.

5. That Lindsay Vonn commercial.

 

Five things: a summoning. Nine.

1. Tea. Warmed up twice. Because it's been that kind of morning.

2. One load of laundry washed, one folded and put away. It feels productive, even if it doesn't look it.

3. Writing a graduation letter to J as a parent participation assignment for her English class. Writing a poem to O for a parent valentine submission.

Tearing up. A lot.

4. Kinesiology orientation still to be done, but by the time I get all three Beasties to school and get to campus, I miss the top of the hour which means I miss the orientation time. Yet, somehow, I have to also find the time to visit at least twice a week over the next 17 weeks, and still make it to three in-class sessions for two other classes and be home in time to pick up the Beasties, help with homework, and get dinner done.

Someone remind me again why this lab is necessary?

5. Twos.

Five things: a summoning. Eight.

1. Long day. Long.  

2. O asks what I’m doing and I explain I’m blogging. He wants y’all to know he’s cute and fabulous and beautiful. 😂 

3. They read Llama Llama Red Pajama without me for his book report. When I read over what he wrote, the last line reads I like this book because my mom reads it to me before bed. My heart melts. 

4. Is it still ritual if all I do is keep the moon in my peripheral as I drive home?

I’m thinking yes. In this case, intention counts.

5. I wonder if there is a word for that feeling one experiences when showering after a long day. It’s like joy and relief and un-becoming all at once.