The Middle Sister's Page

We're driving in the car and it's raining out, the snow turned to mush just like that with a little drizzle, and there's a song on the radio about fighting. The Dragon is singing along although he doesn't really understand the words, but he belts out the word "fight" every time it comes up, which is often, and it makes me think about how much focus he gets when he dons his little red boxing gloves in the basement and punches out Mr. Kapow -- which is what we call the child-size punching bag…

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It doesn’t usually snow here until January or even February, some years, so this evening you are surprised to see it is snowing, the Sunday before Thanksgiving, the gray dusk cascading down like your old knit scarf, the one your great-aunt knit you so many years ago, now fraying at the ends.



Yet even in the face of your son’s excitement, of his insistence on snowball fights and sledding down the little backyard hill, even in the face of tumbling and squealing and catching snowflakes on… Continue

These days I try to fit in billable hours wherever I can because our savings has pretty much dried up and by the time we figure in the costs of babysitting and summer camp, well, I almost might as well not be working at all. So I sit on the bleachers with a clipboard during the Dragon's gymnastics class and… Continue

The first meditation class I ever took was a one-off, free-of-charge, two-hour deal through the continuing education department at the University of Washington. I rode the city bus there from my studio apartment one Tuesday evening after hiking home from my office manager job, changing out of my stiff business suit into ripped jeans and a flannel shirt, and wolfing down my standard bagel-and-beer dinner. Only this time, in consideration of the meditation class, I made it one beer instead of… Continue