I’m just saying it should not have been a leap that took more than half of a century to make.
Why did it take a half of a century to make this leap? I daresay because I have a vagina.
I’m just saying it should not have been a leap that took more than half of a century to make.
Why did it take a half of a century to make this leap? I daresay because I have a vagina.
I’ve written a little about my background with other dogs before mine, and then how Athena Brooke came to be at my side, so you may want to catch up … Continue reading A Decade with A Dog
Wondering why I’ve decided to share so many poems lately? Well, tomorrow, March 21st IS World Poetry Day! Here’s my next one, which actually was recorded first in this particular … Continue reading Where I’m From: An Original Poem
Screaming Secrets The wronged shrieked from their fingertips, silenced no longer, Empowered by consent, Enraged from words not welcomed to say, stuffed inside, eating the polite curtains away … Continue reading Screaming Secrets: An Original Poem
It’s been a few years since I started reflecting on my relationship with LGBTQIA+ Pride and how my relationship with the month of celebration has changed over the years. From … Continue reading My Queer Latter-day Story
The reality of living in the Pacific Northwest as a disabled person during a housing crisis In October 2018, the day before my 52nd birthday, my doctor prescribed a power chair for … Continue reading Waiting for a Home I Can Use
For weeks we worked with my physicians to discover that although my swallow reflex was completely intact, I could no longer feel that area of my throat, which caused me to panic.
As many people whose families are in danger from this virus isolate, signs go up on their doors but life goes on Behind the signs signifying caution people at risk … Continue reading Life Behind the Signs
It has been a LONG time since I have written in this blog. For my loyal readers, I do apologize! I may not have been writing here, however, I HAVE … Continue reading Writing Changes In 2019
When I entered the family history center that stormy April afternoon, I had one thing on my mind; I had never seen a photo of my father’s father. I was 46 and I had never seen my grandfather’s face.
I typed his name into the search bar on the site, Newspapers.com, “George R. Slighte,” the results came back instantly.