Showing posts from August, 2013

Tartlet: The first time Gwen met Chloe

Chloe Warren and I had been emailing for about a week by the time we got together for coffee at—where else in Seattle?—Starbucks. She was one of three contenders for the position I’d put up on Craigslist, but so far I liked her best. I was just hoping it stayed that way and that her light work history wasn’t going to be a red flag. I arrived early and grabbed at a table at the back, savoring my massive sugary latte. I’d been to this Starbucks enough times, they’d stopped judging me when I ordered three types of syrup and four pumps of each. Oh, no one had ever given me a nasty look or made any comments, but I can feel emotions so I know when people are thinking disparaging things about my addiction to sugar. Chloe walked in, did a quick survey of the café and knew immediately that it was me she was meeting. I watched her approach, unaware who she was at first, but perked up as she slid into the chair across from me. “Chloe?” I asked. She nodded, grinned and reached across the table t…

Making stuff

I've been redoing my kitchen for a few weeks. It's been fun and I haven't done anything overly expensive. I think painting was the most expensive part, just because I never seem to have enough painter's tape. It's not completely done just because I ran out of the special screws I need for my Ikea hardware (the screws they came with are much too short to fit through my thick drawers and cabinets) and four drawers still have the old hardware. I plan to go buy more screws but I haven't gotten around to it yet.

I went with a turquoise to match the artwork I bought from and to go with all the red appliances we already had. I'd been eyeing those monster prints forever and I finally had a little extra money so I went for it. I love the way it all ended up matching up.

Ignore the baby gate in the window; we have to keep the cats from popping the screen out and escaping.
 Here we see some pictures of the artwork, the new Ikea knobs, and the cat …

Tartlet: When Gwen Met Stanley

I slid onto the bench next to the cute blond boy and peered down at his book. He was so absorbed in its contents he didn’t seem to notice. I gave him a few seconds before clearing my throat. When that didn’t work, I elbowed him lightly. “Hey.” He looked up, his forehead creasing ever so slightly in a frown. “Yes?”
“I’m Gwen. What’re you reading?” “It’s a biography. On Chester A. Arthur?” He made it a question and I got the feeling he wasn’t sure I’d know who our twenty-first president had been. “Is it any good?” The boy’s brow furrowed a little deeper and I felt a nervous twinge in his emotions. It made me smile, not because I was happy he was uncomfortable but because we were in high school. I had been able to feel the emotions of others for as long as I could remember and his were a welcome respite from the torrential outpouring of feelings from everyone else our age. “It… is. Did you need it?” “I don’t think so. What’s your name? I already told you mine.” “Oh.” He straightened, em…


I love writing fiction, but it's the only kind of writing I enjoy or feel I'm really good at. In high school the only reason I had a C average regardless of how poorly I did with math/science/history/PE was probably that I aced every English class, and I did that with the barest minimum of effort. I would put off everything as long as possible and then write all reports or essays the night before (or the morning of) and do so while whining, "uuuggghhh."

So, having a blog has been kind of a challenge. I've had--and still have--private blogs for personal issues that I need to get out but don't want to phrase carefully or make interesting. However, any sort of blog "for the public" seems like such a chore to me. I can't even imagine writing much about movies or shows or books I consume because I feel like there are people who enjoy that sort of thing and who can do it much better than me.

When I was in high school I had a friend who told me that, i…