An issue in the glove box — Cindy sat at my kitchen table while her husband Jack stirred a pot of Thai Curry he whipped up in the kitchen. They arrived from Indiana the previous night, parked their hybrid SUV and pull-behind trailer beneath the Ponderosa trees on my land in a place I’ve deemed “Wagner’s Campsite.”…

How my lucky number connected me to people around the world — Elevator jazz assaulted my ear as the phone pressed against it. An occasional disembodied syrupy voice interrupted, “Your expected wait time is two minutes.” I was borrowing my neighbor’s landline since the cell service in this valley is non-existent. A man with a thick Indian accent piped through from somewhere…

How failing taught me more than succeeding — Last summer, I enrolled in an Essay/Creative Nonfiction class with Gotham Writers, a New York City online writing school. Half a year later, I can safely say it changed my life. I was a writer before this class: a professional songwriter and a devoted Morning Pages writer. But essays, in…

Sometimes angels ride Harleys — The warm, low-angle light of the setting sun blasted through the windshield, blew through my sunglasses, and pummeled my squinting eyes. I glanced down for a reprieve from the glare and noticed the red needle on the gas gauge kissing E. My butt was numb from sitting in the driver’s…

An unexpected moment of grief shared with an unusual friend. — Late afternoon sun angles across the meadow, creating a facade of warmth on this chilly early March day. My black rubber chore boots squish in the mud left by the last rain as I make my way down the garden trail. Moments before it is crushed beneath the weight of…

Emotional shopping = comfort food. — I just lost my mind. I’m about to drop $200 online buying new clothes. You know those cute little boutique clothing ads that pop up on Facebook from time to time when you’re scrolling? They are the scourge of the earth. It’s not the $200 that bothers me, although I’m…

Thanks Adrienne!

A prophetic dream foretells a fork in the road of life. — It is twilight. Lavender-blue glow fills the sky. I am alone, standing on the side of a two-lane blacktop road feeling lost. The white line painted on the asphalt at my feet stretches for miles to the north. I hear a distant hum behind me to the south. A black car approaches and slows down, stopping on the…

And one woman’s rite of passage to becoming a sailor. — Kali Kirkendall walks to the stove in her underwear, spins the knob on and brings a blue flame to life beneath the kettle. The sailboat sways with the rhythm of the ocean as she hangs onto the counter and props the Aero Coffee Press between various heavy items stacked together…