When we arrived in Spain, in October of 2012, the beaches waited for us. They were a bit tired and wounded, after another summer of tourists, and snow-cones, and sombrillas. They were worn, threadbare, and yet they welcomed us. We walked along their shorelines, and felt the grit on our feet. We pocketed sea glass, … More Grit

Iron Parrot

Driving down the road towards the Naval Base, I ignored the clouds, wispy and pink-hued, because I was talking on my cell phone. About what? Empherea, surely. The stuff of nonsense, so insequential that I cannot recall it a week later. I do recall seeing a policeman pass me on his motorcycle, as I tossed … More Iron Parrot


Some folks nerd out about cars, or purses, or specific vintages of Port. For my husband, it’s quality running shoes. For as long as my kids could walk, he has insisted that they be outfitted in Asics—legitimate, street-ready running shoes. Most the running in their lives is limited to patio futbol and general backyard tomfoolery. … More Shoelaces

El Brute

My youngest child (6) seeks out older children, like 9 or 10 year olds, whenever possible. Yesterday, at the beach, he found a kind-hearted 11 year old who repeatedly tossed him into the surf. Down he would plunk into the salty murk, where he would pop up like a cork, smiling and manic. He loves … More El Brute