I was given the gift of 19 old windows...vintage sash style, not a single pane broken. If I could quit worrying about how I'm going to feed my kid for the rest of the month, I might be able to come up with some pieces that...would feed my kid for a
month.
My friend Ember has one Al's age, and one still attached to her. She is about to explode, I can see it in her twitchy smile. She can't stifle her creativity much longer, without stuffing someone in the microwave. She's a photographer turned mama, turned amazing grace.
We all are something underneath our worries, our fears, our "Conditions." So as Ember and I are talking, I'm hearing myself in her, we come up with these excuses as to why we can't do what we KNOW with every ounce of our being we are meant to be doing...creating our way out of our dissatisfaction.
My financial situation could not be worse, I'm busy praying my ass off to the universe...and I get windows...nineteen fucking windows. I am over drawn at the bank, people want their money, no child support check on the first, and I get windows.







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