The Frozen Moon

I want slow. I want patience, like sitting in a diner with a glass bottle of Heinz ketchup, unwilling to shake, to hurry. Just waiting. I want slow. I want quiet, like Sunday mornings, when the children are at Grandmas’ and I’m left to eggs… Read More

I avoid the phone like it’s a muddy puddle on the sidewalk, like it’s a mess waiting to happen. I avoid the neediness of it, as though I fear it makes me a crying child. Notice me, now.  Stop, whatever you’re doing, as I’m buzzing and… Read More

Evie pees on the potty, but somehow manages to get it everywhere else in the bathroom too. Evie empties her dresser drawers of all of her clothing, and she fills them instead with rocks, with junk mail flyers, with a crumpled paper towel from her peanut… Read More

I baked cupcakes this weekend. At the tail-end of a terrible week for me, emotionally, personally, and in some ways, (even if only in my own eyes,) professionally, I pulled down a sacks of flour and sugar from my new kitchen cabinets. I melted bakers… Read More

This month might actually kill me. I thought this, driving through the rain on my way home from picking up the kids from co-op. Our routine, thus far this year, has been to go to lunch at a little breakfast and lunch place on the… Read More

I wrote this three years ago today, went searching for it here only to realize I had never published it on The Frozen Moon at all, only on Facebook. In memory of my Aunt Karen, whose house was always open for me, so many long… Read More

I was just flipping through the pages of the magazine, just skimming for any potential recipes or, really, anything to make the garbage-bound thing worth saving, and there was this quote, tucked away in small print, beneath a picture of a woman in boxing gear,… Read More