Big Breasts and a Memory


Having recently moved, I find myself stumbling into memories as I try to determining how best to live in this space, and as I try to find a place for everything.

Upon seeing a book from an African history I took in college in order to fulfill the non-Western, non-European history class requirement, I remembered my experience of being in that class.

In class, I always felt like the professor was looking directly at my breasts. Intently. I felt as if I should learn ventriloquism so that when talking I could make the sound seem like it came from them.

I’m going to tell you this: If someone is looking at your breasts with such commitment that you have the time to consider the gaze before said gaze is over, then there is a problem. 

I’m also going to tell you this: A woman with large breasts is aware of the coordinates of any other women with large breasts.

So, when I was walking on campus and I saw the one classmate who had bigger breasts than mine, I knew that I had to catch up to her. I virtually chased her for a bit so that I could talk to her.

I stopped her, mentioned that I was in the African history class with her and then I asked her if the professor stared at her breasts too. I got my answer from her eyes before her words could catch up, and I knew that we shared the experience.

I could also tell that her relief mirrored mine.


Writing then and writing now.


A little more than a month ago, a friend asked me to write a guest post on her blog

I did it.

I have been more excited about writing than I have been in quite some time. Though I wrote a short essay rather than the fiction and poetry that I had been writing most recently, I felt something that I haven’t truly felt when writing in a while.

I remember the first time that I became engaged in writing. It was in fourth grade and a teacher used to give the classroom writing prompts. For extra credit you could write stories as inspired by these prompts. 

In fifth grade, I remember working for a while, poring over encyclopedia entries writing a play about Christopher Columbus, my contribution to a group project.

In sixth grade I remember writing something for class that my teacher called insightful. Then she asked whether I had written it all by myself, which I had.

In tenth grade, I had an English class that required students to do journaling. I remember the pride that I felt upon filling up a notebook with my thoughts. That teacher encouraged me to look into opportunities to write outside of school.

However, I never took writing that seriously in high school. You see, with some aptitude in mathematics and science, I took writing for granted and felt that picking up those math and science credits were more important.

I stopped writing for extra credit. I started doing extra math problems. I started writing programs for my graphing calculator for a challenge, asking the next level math teacher what his extra credit was.

In college, however, I realized that I was more interested in history, and interested in writing. I danced again with that tender partner.

The one class in which I earned an A+ was a play writing class.

After college, I joined a writing group, there writing poetry and fiction. I filled more notebooks. I started the day writing.

Life happened, and writing got me through some hard times.

Life happened, and I fell away from the habit.

I picked up other projects.

I learned dances. I ran races. I worked on my career. I raise my son.

And then I wrote that essay. It felt like making eye-contact across an otherwise unexciting crowd to see that dance partner with whom you always feel at home. You know that once the music starts that the two of you will fall into your familiar back-and-forth. You wonder why you haven’t been dancing.

You resolve to dance more.

And here I am.

Lyndon B. Johnson: Lullaby

This is how you think about Lyndon B. Johnson in order to go to sleep at night.

First you listen to Paula Cole sing “Where Have All the Cowboys Gone.” This will help you romanticize Texas, the land that gave us LBJ in the early 1900s. You will hear the howl in  her voice and it will transport you back to a time when you were a teenager and flush with springtime hormones year round. This will put you in the right mood to think about your president.

You will imagine an end of the world scene, but sanitized. You and Lyndon Johnson are the last people on earth. This will free you from thinking about the fact that he was a married man. Such a fact would ruin your somnolent fantasy. You will also make sure that you forget ever having watched Spike Lee’s documentary on Hurricane Katrina. Such an experience would remind you of the horrors that accompany a fallen infrastructure.

You are there in an airport, tired, thinking that you are alone, when you sense movement. You turn to see a large swath of man lying on the floor. He, too, looks tired, but in the electric eye contact the two of you make, you know that you have to touch him. You know that you need to feel the heat of his body. He knows it too and he, summoning what little strength he retained past the earthly trauma that ruined the rest of the world, beckons you with one hand. You, digging into the final reserve of your own strength, crawl over to him.

He holds his arm out, and your every instinct tells you to bury your head in that big Texan chest of his.

You relax into him.

You fall asleep.

Links I Like


Pecan Beer Bread sounds like something that needs to be made in my kitchen. See, it’s rendered me unable to make a clear, declarative sentence.

Homemade sunflower seed butter sounds glorious. I can imagine the taste of sunbutter being enhanced by the texture of the homemade stuff. 

I occasionally to often pack granola bars in Alex’s lunch. But I know that I could make ones that are better for us than the shelf-stable ones. Maybe these Peanut Butter Oatmeal “No Bake” Bars will get me closer to making some.

These nachos speak to so many of my weaknesses.

I made buffalo chicken tacos not that long ago, but it’s still fun to look at someone else’s.

This salad looks interesting.


Links I Like #26


These teeny, tiny hamburgers win the cutest food ever award!

It makes me so happy to look at this quilt. Quilting is one of the crafts/sewing things I haven’t tried. This project makes me want to….

Maybe these meal templates will help me re-establish my cooking habits.

I’ve never made Jell-O shots before. That doesn’t stop me from being excited about these Moscow Mule Jell-O shots.

Food 52 thinks that these are the only four knots  that I need to know.

Having made kimchi quesadillas before didn’t stop me from drooling over this miniature version.

This many recipes for one-bowl cakes both scares and titillates me.

These salmon tacos look so good.


Links I Like


A while ago, Alex and I took a day trip to Grand Rapids. While we were there, we went to CVLT Pizza. I let Alex choose the pizza, and to my surprise, he chose a vegan one. I wonder how he’d like these vegan pizzas.

Because I can’t ever stop thinking about bread, these pretzel knots are the things dreams are made of.

I have an entire Pinterest board dedicated to s’mores. Imagine what my heart felt when I saw a recipe for S’more Ice Cream Bombs.

Peaches and cream steel cut slow cooker oatmeal sounds wonderful.

I think that I would explode in the presence of this milkshake. That’s right, all over the yard.