About

I am a Mama, a writer, a bread baker. I am a published poet, playwright. I am a happily married gal. I am bluegrass, vintage country and punk. I am poetry collections, NPR, microfiction, celebrity gossip magazines. I am yarn on bamboo needles, thread in Berninas and fabric in piles. I am scribbles at midnight in black ink. I am summer at sail in The San Juans. I am sandy toes with dusty skis.

Baby by the Sea is my life in prose. Baby by the Sea is my life in three, blond daughters; my life married to my best friend: Live. Create. Love.

One. At the age of two when this blog began, lil’ Betty Rose sang, biki biki boo every day. She read books to Slinky-the-fat-cat, cooked waffles in her tiny kitchen, molded Gumby out of Play-Doh, loved moon gazing, feed Huck-a-boy cookies, and put her boots on all by herself. In March, 2007, she became a big sister.

Two. Lucy May was born in water, and has been serenely floating around us ever since. She has a spark, a desire to be a Farmer Ballerina and a calling for all things coastal. On Halloween, 2009, she became a big sister.

Three. Olive June fell into this world of poetry, fairies, watercolor, whales, sailing, bread baking, sewing, yarn-o-rama, and two great big sisters on my favorite holiday – Halloween.

In this giggly-crazy world, we celebrate half-birthdays, stuffed animal weddings, cat parades the same way we’d approach a fabulous ski day or an afternoon at sail: with poise, PBR, caffeine, and music.


This I Believe

[Written twenty days before my third daughter was born, 1:41 AM, 2009]

I believe in mothers of toddlers, raincoat clad, puddle splashing alongside
I believe in freshly kneaded, freshly baked bread, buttery hot
I believe in yarn through my fingers
I believe in hearing what’s on the tips of tongues
I believe at crows at a doorstep, crashing into a window and exploding on a power line
I believe in feeling a baby leave your body
I believe in keeping friends you’d call at two AM
I believe in long car trips with enough buttered popcorn to get you to the state line
I believe in nights at anchor
I believe in black ink, only
I believe in green flashes at sunset
I believe in sun-kissed skin with ice cream and chilly-rosy cheeks with hot chocolate and mini marshmallows
I believe in watching fevers break
I believe in eagles clutching rabbits
I believe in making wishes on cat whiskers
I believe in orca babies
I believe in trashy television and political game shows
I believe in pajamas until noon
I believe in fifties automobiles
I believe in a blizzard’s blindness from behind a windowpane
I believe in good music so loud you can’t hear yourself breathe
I believe in pregnant bellies
I believe in puppy kisses covered in cat fur
I believe in read alouds and dance alongs
I believe in Halloween as religion and blowing on dandelion puffs as prayer
I believe in the story of it all
I believe in Jewish bagels, hot and veggie cream cheesed, wrapped in foil on Yankee ground
I believe in phenomenal coffee beans and frothy mochas
I believe in unrhymed poetry
I believe in two little ladies and; the babe in my tummy
I believe in the power of a good photograph
I believe in “Sunglasses at Night” and Sixteen Candles
I believe in fresh flowers and love notes
I believe in a union
I believe in croquet
I believe in intelligence as a prerequisite
I believe in wild salmon and taxidermy
I believe in newspaper-inked fingers
I believe in love at first sight
I believe in dandelion wishes and a fountain’s penny
I believe in a good deal
I believe in elk fajitas a freezer full of deer meat
I believe in the Easter Bunny
I believe in s’mores with peanut butter cups
I believe in marking text, author infatuations and countless rereads
I believe in fortune cookies and ghosts
I believe in one epic canine per lifetime, and that I’ve already had mine
I believe in midnight sewing
I believe in pure maple syrup
I believe in holding hands, no matter how old
I believe in editing menus and eavesdropping at restaurants
I believe a poet can be a playwright
and I believe in insomnia to get things done