Now/here no/where woman

I have two daughters. The Artist-in-Residence is now 18 years old. The Little Boss is now 14 months old. The Artist-in-Residence and I are still in the adolescent phase, which can sometimes be more intense than the infancy or toddler phase of parenting. And then I went and decided to start all over again. Several things had to stop: drinking, partying and biking -- among other important matters, of course. I knew all that was coming. After pregnancy and 14-months of breastfeeding (and still breastfeeding) the Little Boss, I have finally been reunited with one of my great loves. Yes, mountain biking. I have two mountain bikes. The First Love is a hard-tail and has been with me for 16 years now. Sexy Sadie is a full-suspension, new addition to my stable. On that first trail ride the other day with Sexy Sadie, I shivered with the realization that it had been a long, long time since I felt I was being true to myself. Being a mother entails a lot of self-sacrifice. I don't co

He stood for a moment rigid before the door of the dead room. Elaine had said to him when he first moved in and before they got married: “There’s just one thing, Peter. Promise me youwill never, EVER, go into the dead room.” Elaine with her candles, crystals, decks of tarot cards, and different-colored clothes for each day of the week, all in accordance with the alignment of the planets. Red on Monday, purple on Tuesday, blue on Wednesday, green on Thursday, orange on Friday, white on Saturday, yellow on Sunday. Never anything random on any given day. For Elaine, everything had meaning and purpose. This suited Peter, who was happy to be a seaweed, swaying back and forth in the ebb and flow of her quiet ocean. At least, and at last, he was rooted some place. Yes, for her he could do that. He could stay out of “the dead room.” He couldn’t help but think of it between quotation marks. The door of the dead room stood solidly in its frame. No knob to turn, no latch to lift. No locks