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This bed I’ve made

She curls into a hot parenthesis against me, tiny hands and feet twitching in ballet dreams. I gather the bedclothes over a wisp of porcelain shoulder: flanneled sheets, down comforter with a sueded duvet; February, and the weight of bedding has not been altered since the winter prior. “Mama’s bed,” she’d whispered before squirreling in,…

Still life with sweat

For fuck’s sake, summer has FINALLY arrived in Seattle in the form of 90-degree days and wading pools and SPF Infinity. The best sign? It’s arrived in the front yard: Grow, pretty pears! (But keep a low profile, lest the squirrels discover you and force me to haul out the shotgun. . .)

Tourists in our own town

Or at least that was the idea when, for a joint Mother’s Day/Michael’s birthday present, we enlisted Grammy and Papa for overnight girl-sitting and booked a room downtown at the W. We’d check in early, wander through the Market, do a little shopping, duck in somewhere for cocktails, languish over dinner at a hot new…

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