I have moved. Follow me, won’t you?

I am happily nesting in my warm, new home on the Wordpress platform. The champagne has been popped, everyone’s had their finger foods and I’m getting down to doing some really good writing.

Dearest reader, won’t you visit?

My new permanent address: wittybean.com

Come soon! Our coffee’s getting cold!

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Pocket of happiness.

This past week, our house underwent some fumigation and so we spent 8ish days at our in-laws’ cottage in Monterey, California. For those unfamiliar with that part of the world, Monterey and its surrounding towns are right next to the Pacific Ocean. Miles of beautiful, unspoiled beaches, not too touristy and of course the world-famous Monterey Bay Aquarium. The weather is never too hot; the beaches are set against a backdrop of lush hills and the sand is always perfect. My idea of heaven on earth. The kids had lots of fun, but because of a sudden increase in downtime (no school) they started having bouts of “I’m so bored/I love the Ocean/I hate the Ocean/I’m angry for no reason”. Typical younger child behavior and something I’d expected would happen. They both thrive on structure, so we tried to keep things as streamlined and predictable as possible. Of course, my Zen, earth-mother mood didn’t last too long. Between the cooking and cleaning...

Soul sister.

It’s past midnight. You’re in bed with your thoughts. Limbs achy and heart heavy with worries. Of course, you feel that way, you’re a mother. You wish you had someone to talk to. Someone to breathe in sync with. Someone who’ll nod at the right places and tell you, you’re doing your best. Your husband is snoring away, the kids are sleeping and no one awake for miles around. You contemplate calling your mother/sister/bestie. But you don’t. You just lie there in bed, feeling small and lonely and not sure why everything hurts so damn much. But you’re actually forgetting someone who has been there all along. She’s watching, listening, making sure you’re still breathing. She loves you more than anyone else, even though she never tells you that. She’s your staunchest ally but can also feel like your worst enemy. Talk to her. Tell her you’re scared. Show her you’re hurt. She’ll hug you. Maybe yell at you a bit. Even completely distract you and talk about Ra...

I was entirely indifferent to the news of his death

I put down the eye liner and studied my reflection in the mirror. Too much mascara? Grandma always told me I had the prettiest eyes. Smiling, I pulled my hair into a loose braid. Where was my lucky pebble? Oh there. Now I was ready. My parents were in the kitchen. I peeked at them, searching for the slightest trace of anger, that flicker of grief. But all I saw was two middle-aged people, with rather kind faces. Worried about their daughter, hoping she’ll be fine. “Avery, honey,” my mom began, “I know this is scary, but we’re with you. Every step of the way.” “Yes, kiddo. Your mom and I will be in that waiting room the whole time. Dr. Matheson is the best. He’s even published a pape-” “Brian, don’t stress her out. Not on the day of the procedure,”. “Karen, I’m just giving her informatio -” “Shush, now. Let her breathe for a second.” Dad rolled his eyes, behind mom’s back. I smiled, terrified inside, but still thankful for the banter. ...

Witty Bean

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