I was tearing my hair out between 3 a.m. and 4:30 a.m. yesterday morning. The housing complex's perimeter alarm went off eight times. When the siren stopped wailing, a high-pitched ringing followed, mimicking tinnitus. As the sky lightened, I armed myself with terrifying hair, a panic button, my bare feet, and my closest friend, Fluffy… Continue reading Complex Comedy & Wood Woman
Author: TeaShell Michele
At home, in my shell, I get up to all sorts of creative mischief and drink an awful lot of tea.
Mildred & Monty
Mildred was hiding in a beam above the kitchen. She stared at me from the knotted wood. I felt her gaze and, looking up, caught sight of her. What peculiar eyes, I thought, what an elongated, fearsome forehead and skull, what a beak, what a... Abandoning my crack-of-dawn tea drinking, I shot to the bedroom… Continue reading Mildred & Monty
What a Waste
I don't know what is wrong with the plumbing in this place. When I flush the loo half of what should go away, stays. In my immediate family unit, and in the UK extension, there is a marked propensity for troublesome waterworks. I'm referring to external, not personal, systems. Plumbing, not bladders. I must keep… Continue reading What a Waste
Documenting Transitions & Poncho Knitting Pattern
To tell The Tale of Two Years that unleashed Moving to the Mountain, I have to go back in my journals and to memories of seemingly insignificant, nuanced events I did not record. While growing into a new life, freedom is my food. My spirit is buoyant, floating, and my physical body emulates that. The… Continue reading Documenting Transitions & Poncho Knitting Pattern
Circling Back
Occasionally, I throw myself at a project, craft, book, only to slip away on a whim, eloping with another that piques my interest. Or, and this is the more likely scenario, circumstances change and my energy, shifting to adapt, has to let go of pastimes that mean a great deal to me. Then one day,… Continue reading Circling Back
A Seagull Overhead – Documenting Transitions
Ma, move! I jump up as nimbly and urgently as my crossed legs allow. My son has launched himself from an armchair and is at my side, grabbing my arm. Moments before I was sitting on the floor in a bone-warming rectangle of sunlight in the living room, knitting a long garter stitch rectangle which… Continue reading A Seagull Overhead – Documenting Transitions
MantisWheel 