I remember the roads to my Grandmother’s house. We called her “Bamma” to distinguish her from my maternal Grandmother, who would later be know simply as G’ma, and hold an even more important role in my life. As a young child, growing up in the suburbs of Houston, we would make the six hour trek to my Bamma’s house, just north of Austin. I remember the terrain changing to a hilly roll.. I remember the van’s AC unit working with an easier hum as we drew closer to my Bamma’s house. I remember my dad going over some of the rolls of the road and yelling with triumph, “WOAH! That will get you in your belly!” when the car hit zero gravity for a split second, gliding over each crest of ... to our minds.. mountains.
In reflection,... Read more
Brain wakes up, “Hey! We didn’t make kids’ lunches! It’s too late for us now. What should we do?”
Heart answers, “Um, tell them to fend for themselves?”
Brain replies, “Uh, you mean ‘Buy Lunch Tomorrow’? Sure, ok We’ve got money in their accounts for lunch.”
Stomach wakes up, “Did someone say lunch? Because I didn’t eat that today and I know it’s late, but we could really use some….”
Brain interrupts, “STOMACH! No, down. It’s time for bed. In fact, it’s PAST time for bed. Clock?”
Internal clock ticks like a bomb. It’s well past due but never seems to implode.
Crap. It’s two hours past bedtime.... Read more
Tonight I checked on your sister but not you. It’s not that I didn’t want to; It’s that I didn’t realize how much the door jams would swell in the heat and rub against the door when I tried to open one. So as I squeezed in to your sister’s room with a loud “thhhhhhuuuummmmmpppppppppbbbbbb” and heard her squirm in her bunk, I knew my chances of waking you up were even greater. Also, your dad checked on you both just moments earlier because he is not as afraid to wake you both. I, however, remember countless nights of your flopping about in my belly with a knowing “oh no you didn!” squealing in my head.
So, please tell your therapist twenty years from now I did not love you, or your sister, more. I was simply more knowledgeable... Read more
Day 1 of my new plan: “Living For The Story,” which, in reality, is more like “Living the Punchline” because y’all - Seriously.
You know the phenomenon where woman want curly hair who have wavy/straight and curly hair women are always trying to straighten theirs? I’m no exception. My sister and her daughter have the envious curls while my daughter and I are stuck with straight, stringy, flat, lifeless hair. It’s the kind of hair nobody talks about. “Hey, can I look like her? The lady with the non-noticable hair? It’s so ... nothing.”
As an experiment, my daughter and I decided to go old school with rollers.
I recount my day in exaggerated details. Suddenly when I tell my sister about that meeting I had, I say the words I *should* have said at the time. She laughs. It’s so much better when I say it out loud after the fact. It’s never funny at the moment. But the story grows in to life and life grows in to reality. Bob and I sit on the kitchen counters most nights and discuss philosophy and self improvement. Why we chose the kitchen counters, I can only guess. In the kitchen near the knives and scalding faucet that doesn’t run cold water (we really need to fix this), it seems like pondering life’s meaning is more thrilling. Death is all around us! We must embrace life before it’s too late! Or until we get third degree burns. Then again, maybe we...
“You walk very fast.” I hear the words at the same time a wet nose bumps my calves. I turn to find an older woman walking on the trail next to me. I had slowed down to text a friend briefly when she unexpectedly popped in to my path during my walk. She smiles, “I wasn’t able to catch you until now. It’s why I said something. Usually I’m way ahead of everyone but you walk as quickly as I do.” We enjoy a nice chat as I pace along side her. I explain that I used to run but now walk because of my bad knees. She confesses she used to run marathons and was unsure about this walking business but really enjoys it. We both agree we can’t run to save our lives now and not ironically, that’s when she asks if I’ve seen the coyotes....
Where are all the girls? There’s a lot of discussion around women in the technology field and specifically surrounding tech conferences. I’m a huge proponent of women in computer science. I mean, I’m not just the president, I’m also a client. There is a dissertation sitting somewhere on a dusty desk, or trash bin, with my passionate scribbles on this topic. It contains theories on How To Help Retention Rates Among Undergraduate Women In Computer Science. It’s full of ideas on brain psychology, technology, and community. There’s a trifecta of reasons women do, or do not, stay in technology fields. Brain Psychology I’m not...
They always say not to have any regrets in life. Thing is? It’s hard to avoid. There’s that time you thought the tattoo of Winnie the poo was going to be a good idea wen you were 16. There’s the night you got so drunk you told off the barmaid who happened to be your boyfriend’s sister’s ex-lover and a former heavy weight boxer. (Consolation: your black eye looked a bit like an Eeyore so you claimed a “pooh” theme.) There’s the time you majored in Exercise and Sports Science when you MEANT to major in Computer Science. (This one I actually have done. I’ll tell you about it some day.) And then there are the three days you spent watching Felicity in sequence that you’d gladly take back. I have the...
Wandering around London, alone, amidst crowds of families, strangers, losers, businessmen and lepers, I learnt a bit about how to fit in. The irony of that last sentence is that I’ve never quite learnt how to fit in at home. But here, lost in the crowds bumping shoulders with thousands of strangers, I find a way to quietly assimilate to the expectations of local society. Let me ‘splain. 1. Don’t carry around a paper map. Instead, hunt and peck on the map on your phone. You’ll look just like the local texting his or her mate to meet up for drinks later. Only tourists use a paper map. 2. Purchase your souvenirs at the end of the day, not at the start. Nothing shouts tourist like carrying around a bag full of “I LOVE LONDON bracelets” and...
Many many years ago, in a small, reasonably priced apartment in Bellingham, my before-husband told me a story from his childhood about decision making. He played basketball at the church league up the street from his house during his Elementary and Jr. High years. Being a somewhat shy kid, he never had the confidence on the court that could allow him to succeed among other sweaty 10 year olds. The pressure of the ball being tossed at him was sometimes too much and he’d freeze, or just take off running like Forest Gump, forgetting all main facets of the game; namely that you have to bounce the ball whilst running and throw it at a high hoop thingy. I don’t know the details of the rules, really. I wasn’t there. His dad used to coach the team and would watch...
Start Living For The Story 21/Jun/2013
Re-imagining history 21/Jun/2013
Where are the women? Technology conferences trying to represent females. 17/Jun/2013
No Regrets. Or. Why we need version control for life. 03/Jun/2013
How to not be a tourist: AKA: ten things I learned in London today 02/Jun/2013
Shoot, dribble, or pass 01/Jun/2013
Then again, maybe we... Read more
Where are all the girls?
I’m not... Read more
They always say not to have any regrets in life. Thing is? It’s hard to avoid.
I have the... Read more
His dad used to coach the team and would watch... Read more