Sometimes, it gets too much.

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Sometimes, it gets too much.
Too much, nothing. Too quiet. Too much reality.
And then, mostly at night
I write new blog posts in my head.

Frogs and Purses

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I chuckled when I saw the cartoon. This was so me when I was that little. All dressed up like a girl, but not wanting to be one, at least not at that age. The acceptance that I wasn’t a boy came years later, the love for being a woman arrived just in time for adulthood.

Congratulations Finland!

Finland! We don’t hear much about it. A small country with more saunas than lakes -and they are famous for their lakes- a coffee lovers’ paradise. Finland, the land I fell in love with so many years ago.

The Nightmare Before St. Patrick’s Day

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I am Irish by marriage, meaning I have a husband with red cheeks and an Irish last name. McSomething...but not the Donald. Which makes me an Austrian-Italian-American-Irish Mut.

And the Dream of Gender Equality Goes On

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Even as a little girl, I could always picture a world ruled by women and in 1983, Marion Zimmer Bradley’s ‘The Mists of Avalon’ made this dream more real. Was it just forty years ago when we all read her take on the Arthurian tale, seen through the eyes of Morgain, Gwenhwyfar, Igraine, and Viviane?

My Aunt Was A Floater

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My aunt’s body floated dead in the water when she was only five or six years old. She couldn’t hold on to the hand of her older sister, who later on would become my mother, who was only about twelve years old herself at that time.

The Tree

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For a long time I wanted to see you again,
my old childhood friend.
There were some things I wanted to tell you
and I knew you would understand.

Christmas Liquor – Gifts Homemade

Our farm was with one foot in Italy, so Italian food and liquors could be found in our fridge and cellar all year around. I grew up enjoying the Austrian-Hungarian meals at home, and appreciated the German cooking during the week, even though it was in a boarding school, and some of the food they served seemed highly questionable.

Christmas Gems In My Memory Jar

I wish I could talk to all of the parents who worry they can’t put enough presents under the Christmas tree. I wish I could tell them about all the Christmases in my life, that are now special gems in my memory jar.

Out Here On My Own

1983, I sat in my little apartment in Vienna, Austria, and listened to a song I didn’t fully understand. My Grandma had passed away and without any family or friends, I was out there on my own. I didn’t know the big city, and the University of Vienna overwhelmed me. I was a young adult, very insecure and uncertain of my future. Equipped with invisible wings but afraid to fly.