a radio was on.

Last Friday evening, I went to a potluck dinner at Asher's new school, bearing foil tins of bean burritos and brownies, cupcakes with thick white frosting and golden sprinkles.  The school sits in an office park in Winchester and the playground is a makeshift, gorgeous set of structures and wild tire swings and rocky hiding places built in the trees at the edge of the parking lot.  There were clotheslines and miniature laundry clips you could hang homemade art from--with the markers on the wooden table, I drew a photo of a sparkling eye.  To be loved is to be seen, I wrote, because I was watching Asher run happily through the trees, now at the basketball court, greeting the school director with what looked like real pleasure, the night darkening as musicians played saxophone and the most diverse and cerebral group of people circulated with plates of pizza and Korean barbecue.  Even after just a month or so, Asher is himself at school, and he is at home at school.  The relief washed

The little boys and Sebby and I are staying in a tiny, perfectly renovated house on the far west end of Commercial Street in Provincetown. Sebby has been in a sustained anxiety attack since we got here--I now see how quiet his life in Carlisle is.  At home, we often go for walks and never see another person, another dog.  Here the streets are absolutely jammed with people, sometimes quite drunk, and the dogs--oh, the multitudes.  Asher said he thinks this is a good community because they like gay people and dogs are allowed everywhere.  Which is probably a perfectly great way to assess a town.  But Sebby is absolutely overwhelmed and I don't think I would bring him next time, if there is a next time.  He does love swimming at the town beach, but I cannot tell you just how bad he smells after that--kind of like a dead seagull.  And since he is glue to me in our tiny house, I must then force him into the shower, where I bathe him with the boys' all-in-one body wash and shampoo wh

The little boys and Sebby and I are staying in a tiny, perfectly renovated house on the far west end of Commercial Street in Provincetown. Sebby has been in a sustained anxiety attack since we got here--I now see how quiet his life in Carlisle is.  At home, we often go for walks and never see another person, another dog.  Here the streets are absolutely jammed with people, sometimes quite drunk, and the dogs--oh, the multitudes.  Asher said he thinks this is a good community because they like gay people and dogs are allowed everywhere.  Which is probably a perfectly great way to assess a town.  But Sebby is absolutely overwhelmed and I don't think I would bring him next time, if there is a next time.  He does love swimming at the town beach, but I cannot tell you just how bad he smells after that--kind of like a dead seagull.  And since he is glue to me in our tiny house, I must then force him into the shower, where I bathe him with the boys' all-in-one body wash and shampoo wh

Hello friends.  It's been a moment.  I opened up computer today to turn back to writing and discovered this unpublished blog I wrote in April.  I'm going to sent it out and work on a new one--I'm in Provincetown with the twins and Sebby, and its our last day, so I'm certain to be interrupted by the need to get to Herring Cove at high tide, but I'm hoping to begin writing again and anew.  Psalm 91:10 is translated variously. There shall no evil befall you. Nor will any plague come nigh thy dwelling. There shall no evil befall thee.  Neither shall any plague come nigh thy tent. Harm, of course, does come to all of our tents.  Sometimes, the harm comes from without, sometimes from within.  The Bible knows this: it is full of harms, of infertility and adultery, of war and disease, of hunger and of jealousy, of vengeance and of sacrifice. Kate Bowler taught me about the prosperity gospel: "its bold central claim that God will give you your heart's desires: money

Hello friends.  It's been a moment.  I opened up computer today to turn back to writing and discovered this unpublished blog I wrote in April.  I'm going to sent it out and work on a new one--I'm in Provincetown with the twins and Sebby, and its our last day, so I'm certain to be interrupted by the need to get to Herring Cove at high tide, but I'm hoping to begin writing again and anew.  Psalm 91:10 is translated variously. There shall no evil befall you. Nor will any plague come nigh thy dwelling. There shall no evil befall thee.  Neither shall any plague come nigh thy tent. Harm, of course, does come to all of our tents.  Sometimes, the harm comes from without, sometimes from within.  The Bible knows this: it is full of harms, of infertility and adultery, of war and disease, of hunger and of jealousy, of vengeance and of sacrifice. Kate Bowler taught me about the prosperity gospel: "its bold central claim that God will give you your heart's desires: money

Return to the world.  I can't see the labyrinth right now--blanketed in snow.  In the autumn, Avery planted dozens of bulbs and I know there are flowers curved into their seeds, under the frozen earth right now, biding their time.  I saw the muddy stretch she created when she planted rows of tulips pointed out to the labyrinth.   Neighbors report sighting bobcats on the neighborhood app where we talk about lost dogs, the destruction of signs and mailboxes, the abridged hours of the coffee shops desperate for help.  Coyotes are mating in the woods at the edge of our backyard and our golden doodle is mad for a chance to what? He barks and barks into the dark, bemoaning his electronic collar, wishing to fight them? join their strange cries in the night? What would my giraffe of a dog--all limbs akimbo and full heart and scant brainpower--do out in the wild woods with the real animals? Sebby is a Velveteen rabbit of a dog--almost a child's version of a dog, all softness and late ni

Return to the world.  I can't see the labyrinth right now--blanketed in snow.  In the autumn, Avery planted dozens of bulbs and I know there are flowers curved into their seeds, under the frozen earth right now, biding their time.  I saw the muddy stretch she created when she planted rows of tulips pointed out to the labyrinth.   Neighbors report sighting bobcats on the neighborhood app where we talk about lost dogs, the destruction of signs and mailboxes, the abridged hours of the coffee shops desperate for help.  Coyotes are mating in the woods at the edge of our backyard and our golden doodle is mad for a chance to what? He barks and barks into the dark, bemoaning his electronic collar, wishing to fight them? join their strange cries in the night? What would my giraffe of a dog--all limbs akimbo and full heart and scant brainpower--do out in the wild woods with the real animals? Sebby is a Velveteen rabbit of a dog--almost a child's version of a dog, all softness and late ni

 I'm going back to Minnesota where sadness makes sense     Danez Smith O California, don't you know the sun is only a god if you learn to starve for him? I'm bored with  the ocean I stood at the lip of it, dressed in down, praying for snow I know, I'm strange, too much light makes me  nervous at least in this land where the trees always bear green. I know something that doesn't die can't be beautiful. Have you ever stood on a frozen lake, California? The sun above you, the snow & stalled sea--a field of mirror all demanding to be the sun too, everything around you is light & it's gorgeous & if you stay too long it will kill you & it's so sad, you know? You're the only warm  thing for miles & the only thing that can't shine. Winter stole in when we briefly looked away at Christmas, a gray ghost of fog and light rain that slowly cooled your blood.  The squirrels and cardinals have been in a flurry, scooping the seeds from the bi

 I'm going back to Minnesota where sadness makes sense     Danez Smith O California, don't you know the sun is only a god if you learn to starve for him? I'm bored with  the ocean I stood at the lip of it, dressed in down, praying for snow I know, I'm strange, too much light makes me  nervous at least in this land where the trees always bear green. I know something that doesn't die can't be beautiful. Have you ever stood on a frozen lake, California? The sun above you, the snow & stalled sea--a field of mirror all demanding to be the sun too, everything around you is light & it's gorgeous & if you stay too long it will kill you & it's so sad, you know? You're the only warm  thing for miles & the only thing that can't shine. Winter stole in when we briefly looked away at Christmas, a gray ghost of fog and light rain that slowly cooled your blood.  The squirrels and cardinals have been in a flurry, scooping the seeds from the bi