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  • Is Your Wetsuit...

    It's been about two weeks since the great 'wetsuit' audition of 2011. You see, I have a wetsuit that I love simply because it's mine... More

  • I'm Essentially a Hack...

    Orson Wells on Hobbies: I've tried to think of what my hobbies are and I can't name any. Not even one. Not even a half hobby... More

  • The One About Painting...

    I usually spend a lot of time looking for quotes or song lyrics that fit something I’m about to write.... More

  • To Err Is Human…

    I used to write a lot about forgiveness. I think I wrote about it because I kept having arguments with friends about what it means to forgive... More

Laughter is the Language of the Soul...Pablo Neruda

Wetsuit and Other Essays: The Launch!

And now…for the cover:

I can not thank Pamela Sinclair of ItGirlDesigns enough for her amazing ability to take a few sentences and turn them into a work of art. She was so wonderful to work with that I have started to believe it was simply destiny stepping in to help me find her. I went through a tremendous amount of RFPs and on the very last day, when I had decided that there would be no book because I couldn’t find an artist who could understood what I was trying to accomplish, along came Pamela. Destiny. Whatever the reason, I love this woman’s work so please, go check her out!

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No News Left to Print…

There was a time, a couple of years ago, when I was juggling three blogs on a full-time basis. Here, on Bubbles, I talked about whatever came into my heart or head and shared stories about being a single mom, having a broken heart, and trying to figure out my place in the world. Over on Trois Coccinelles, I tried to give a space to emerging writers so that they’d have an opportunity to share their work with readers who would care and way over on Green Eyes, Good Hair, I wrote about race and our obsession with pretending we’re a post-racial society when the truth is that we’re just the opposite.

It was easy to merge Trois Coccinelles with Bubbles – there was no anonymity in either site and a writer can write about words easily (sometimes), regardless of its their own words or those of their friends and soon-to-be-friends.

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Today is my 42nd birthday. I remember being a kid and thinking there was no way I’d live to be so old. I couldn’t even imagine how old I’d be at 30, let alone 42. Yet here I am. I’m not only 42, but I’m happier each year than the last and that counts for just about everything.

When my mom turned 42 she had two daughters – me, a 15 year old, and my sister, a 5 year old. She was battling some of her worst depression and had been in and out of mental hospitals over the years. I was about a year from moving out of the house and about four years from arriving in New York City, pregnant, with my best friend and partner, Ms. A.

A few weeks ago I had a moment to think back over the past few birthdays. I’ve spent them everywhere, but at home. I’ve been in Washington, DC and Chicago and Ethiopia – but rarely here. Some of it was work-related, other trips were more personal, but each trip was about being away – this birthday, almost by accident, has been about being home.

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