Author: Denise Hopkins
Day 1. Celebration
I’m Thinking about Doing Something Scary…
[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ admin_label=”section” _builder_version=”3.0.47″][et_pb_row admin_label=”Row” _builder_version=”3.0.48″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat”][et_pb_column type=”2_3″ _builder_version=”3.0.47″ parallax=”off” parallax_method=”on”][et_pb_text admin_label=”Text” _builder_version=”3.19.12″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat”] I have taken to Writing haikus with coffee Morning ritual I wrote that one a couple months ago when I decided it was time to give that little fire inside me room to grow. Here it is: […]
Down the Same Drain
[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ admin_label=”section” _builder_version=”3.0.47″][et_pb_row admin_label=”Row” _builder_version=”3.0.48″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat”][et_pb_column type=”2_3″ _builder_version=”3.0.47″ parallax=”off” parallax_method=”on”][et_pb_text admin_label=”Text” _builder_version=”3.19.12″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat”] “I have already settled it for myself so flattery and criticism go down the same drain and I am quite free.” ― Georgia O’Keeffe I’m reading a biography of Georgia O’Keeffe right now, and I have to […]
I don’t know how to buy art (but I’m learning)
To the Tchefuncte, With Love
I’m still pissed.
[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ admin_label=”section” _builder_version=”3.0.47″][et_pb_row admin_label=”Row” _builder_version=”3.19.12″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat”][et_pb_column type=”2_3″ _builder_version=”3.0.47″ parallax=”off” parallax_method=”on”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”3.19.12″] I’m still pissed. As though it were a bad show on Bravo or the dead possum on the side of the road, for a long time I just wasn’t able to look away even though I know my spirit (and my […]
Why so many birds?
The Art of Not Staying in Bed
[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ admin_label=”section” _builder_version=”3.0.47″][et_pb_row admin_label=”Row” _builder_version=”3.0.48″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat”][et_pb_column type=”2_3″ _builder_version=”3.0.47″ parallax=”off” parallax_method=”on”][et_pb_text admin_label=”Text” _builder_version=”3.19.12″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” use_border_color=”off” border_color=”#ffffff” border_style=”solid”] Every morning last week was the same madness. I’d go into my son’s room at 7:00 am. With a flip of the light switch, I’d tell him good morning. He’d grumble from under the […]