Discovering and playing and building in this little corner of the world to document my writing life. I'm glad you're here. {If you want to receive updates via email, sign up below.}

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Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Vintage Slice 3



Before Slice of Life, we shared notebook entries on Two Writing Teachers. This was my first post on Two Writing Teachers.

June 12, 2007

I’m not sure how important they are in my life, and I’m not sure how much of an artifact they are, but something that I seem to have an obsession about is red shoes. I have — well, I’m not going to admit how many pairs — let’s just leave it at quite a few. There’s my red boots — I love the click click clack of them. I just remembered that they’re almost worn out, so I bought a new pair of red boots this past winter. Very trendy. I have red sandles that I wear all summer long (not the same pair, mind you — but always, always red). And of course, red leather mules and redMary Janes. I don’t, however, have any red heels, not any more anyway.

I’m thinking to myself, I can’t believe I’m writing about red shoes on my very first post. Honestly, people are going to think I’m a complete airhead. But there is meaning behind these shoes. Of all the artifacts I could have chosen to write about, why red shoes? The answer is quite simple: My dad.
Growing up, my dad would moan about red shoes — I wasn’t “allowed” to have them. Dad had various reasons for this rule, none made much sense. So, for my junior prom, I chose a red dress and (you guessed it) red shoes (these were the heels). I chose this because first and foremost I love red. However, the ulterior motive was to get what I wasn’t allowed. Red shoes. Dad couldn’t argue. It was prom and Mom bought them for me.

And she still buys me red shoes today. In fact, most of the afore mentioned red shoes were bought for me by Mom. I’m wondering if the red shoes bring back memories for her too. I wonder if they bring back memories for Dad. I bet they do. Memories of his mom, my grandma, who had shoes in every color imaginable, but many, many, many in the shade of red. In fact, she still wears red shoes today. The older I get, the more I see her in me. Perhaps Dad does too. But that is another entry.

Vintage Slice

Monday, March 2, 2015

Vintage Slice 2

March 29, 2011




The world needs more people being themselves.


You know, it’s easy to get caught up in wanting to be more like this person or wishing to be more like that person. It’s easy to think, if only I could be like that slicer. Or if only I could be that kind of parent. I think we spend too much time comparing ourselves to other people. The thing is the world doesn’t need another teacher like the one across the hall. The world doesn’t need another person just like your totally cool best friend. What the world needs is you.


I’ve decided to spend all that time and energy into become the best possible version of me. Nothing good comes from comparing myself to other people. There is always going to be someone I wish I could teach like. There will always be someone I wish I could write like. There will always be someone I wish I could organize like. I don’t have the energy for it. I’m just going to be me instead.

So what do you say? Will you join me in being yourself? The world needs you.

Vintage Slice

Sunday, March 1, 2015

Vintage Slice 1


March 1, 2011


Hello March. I’ve been waiting for you. My soul feels you.


Last summer I longed for a change in season. Summer wasn’t in my heart, but it held on and kept coming back and back and back. I couldn’t escape the summer memories, memories reminding me that sometimes life is just plain hard.  Winter was welcomed. The snow soothed my soul. The grey days hugged me.


And now here you are, softening the earth, sunshining the sky, transforming me. Thank you March for knocking on my window and offering a new beginning.

Vintage Slice