Well, today some of us might have looked up, for the moon. A blue moon, a super moon, a blood moon. All of it, all at once. I looked out the window of our front door at 6 am and saw it bright, beaming through the neighbor’s oak tree branches.

”Maybe it’s a little bigger, but it’s not red or anything,” my husband says behind me. His clothes smell cold from outside, he went up to the garden to get a better look. Worth the chill and the time

Texts later asked if we were watching the NASA live feed. But I was taking my son to school, praying our morning prayer for his buddies, his teachers, and that he’ll remember to pee.  

The significant and insignificant all at once and which is which?  

We sleep through a lot of things, muffled to the wonder of existing. Breathing 96 times an hour, blinking and feeling and grasping. Dreaming and doing and we just absorb it all. Noses down, scrolling, a little mute and numbed.  That’s me, snoozing and stressed. Existing. 

Then, at 9:25 this morning, there—through the dirty pocked glass of our windshield: there—the mid morning light on tree trunks...and I was awake. I noticed.  I felt the air in my lungs. 

You do this too, I’m sure of it. But knowing when it’s coming is a mystery. It’s not from some newscaster in a studio reminding you of a phenomenon of astronomy, it just happens. And we marvel, we stop and remember. At the significant and the smallness. The aching marvel of gravity and existing.

I think this is what writing is for me, a nudge to noticing. Do you see that? Have you felt like this before? Does this ache familiar? Like a child gathering parking lot gravel and twigs and moss bits. Look at this look at this mama look. Watch me. Not seeking but sharing. Delighting. 

We have to slow down, we have to help each other. A poke between the shoulder blades. Look! Look.

Let’s nudge each other awake. 

Recipe box: breakfast bird nests

(Is this becoming a food blog? Yikes)  

So I posted this picture on the old Insta earlier today:   


And people liked it more than the typical pictures of my kids, so here's the recipe (it's vague, but just go with it): 

Oh--so a little backstory, I'm doing a whole30 type thing right now, an elimination diet to remove some inflammatories from my diet (wow I sound Iike a geezer), mainly because of some health stuff ("stuff" meaning maybe Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever--a real true thing. Not a bluegrass band at the upper state fair.).

So here's the recipe which is good and also noble because if you're into those sort of health things (no gluten, no dairy, etc) this ticks all those boxes. Ticks. Daggone. TICKS!


1 package frozen (thawed) shredded hash browns  

1 dozen eggs (or in my case, 8--yeahhh)  

salt and pepper  

nutritional yeast (whaaat...or shredded sharp cheddar, or neither. All work)  

add ins like BACON! Chopped peppers, mushrooms, green onions....etc



preheat your oven to 425.  

Spray your muffin tins. You'll have such a sad experience if you don't. 

In a big bowl, combine hash browns with salt n peppa, cheese or yeast or nothing.  

Add a super generous pinch (like a grab) of potatoes and basically fill each tin. Like to the top. You'll think "I simply can't use all these potatoes!" But you will. Do it.  

Then with your fingers, smoosh the potatoes to the sides and bottom of the pan, leaving a space in the middle for your egg mixture. There should be a shaggy overlap on each one. That's good! It'll cook down a bit. Also looks nest-y and gives you lots of crunchy bits. 

Bake for 20-25 minutes til light brown.  

In the meantime, if you want, crack your eggs and wisk them. However, if you happen to love a good runny yolk, sit on your hands.  

Wisk in green onion and a little s+p.  

After the potatoes have baked, turn the oven down to 350.  

Pour egg mixture in each hollow, OR crack an egg into each one. My husband doesn't do runny yolk. Aside: what's with the Internet's fascination with little runny yolk pierced by a fork videos? I like a good egg like that but the videos are gross to me. WHY. 

Top each egg with whatever mix ins (toppings I guess, but they sink in) you've chosen.  

Bake for 10-12 minutes. Cool a little, then remove from the pan. Eat all the crispy bits left behind.

So so good.  

Also good heated back up. So boom -- you just made your breakfast for the week.  

Here's August and also carrot salad

I'm sitting here procrastinating work, just so we're clear here. I'm using you to prolong actual work. But after a conversation I just had I think maybe what this REALLY is all about is a desire to play or at least approach words a bit more freely here.  

I know I'm justifying procrastination, but there's truth there too.  

August is a landslide of change. My teacher man heads back to the classroom, our schedules flex and fill in more ridgid ways. This year, my son goes to public school...I hold that truth at arms length. But there it all is, looming. He turns 6 in a couple of weeks. I turn 38 a few days before that. So August always seems to pummel me a bit with shifting and incessant full-feeling.  

But with that comes an adrenal pulse. My eyes open a fraction wider, I'm well aware of my heart in my chest, I'm awake again. But really longing for the pillowy freedom of summer. But ahead we go, like it or not. Change is a coming, the milk expires after Silas is in school and I'm older and "normal" is back.  

But I need the mess to be boxed in--spiritually, socially, emotionally. I've always felt the most me when I can have a room with nice straight and steady walls and space within to be free. Free and un-free all at once. Summer's flexibility breeds too much laziness in me, too much free time to waste. I gotta have a schedule and a deadline, and I don't seem to have the wherewithal to self impose. 

But in my freedom, I found this recipe that you should make as soon as possible. MAKE THIS I say, because it's surprising and delicious and needs to be shared because it makes so much. It's bright and tart and sweet and crunchy and just so good.  It has nothing to do with August or anything but I found it was an excellent catalyst for having some friends over and therefore forcing me to hurricane around the house cleaning and straightening. May it wake you up to a new season or meal or gathering.  

Here's a picture my friend Deb took of her leftovers of our communal meal, just in case a picture of carrot salad gives you some reference:  


There's a bunch of fiddly chopping involved. The pistachios especially irked me. Use it as mediation time, or like I did the first time I made it, make it with friends (like Deb). DO IT. 



4 cups grated carrots (I just grated a bag of whole carrots from the store)

1 can garbanzo beans, rinsed and drained

7 Medjool dates, pitted and chopped

4 green onions, white and green parts, chopped

1/2 cup coarsely chopped fresh cilantro

3 tablespoons olive oil

zest and juice of 2 limes

3/4 teaspoon ground cumin

1/4 teaspoon nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon tumeric

1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

1/2 teaspoon sea salt

1/2 teaspoon black pepper

1/2 cup shelled roasted pistachios, coarsely chopped

1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese (let's be real--I made this twice and forgot the cheese both times. Didn't miss it, for what it's worth) 

Make it: 

  1. In a large bowl, combine the carrots, garbanzo beans, chopped dates, green onions, cilantro and chopped pistachios.
  2. In another bowl, whisk together olive oil, zest and juice of limes, cumin, nutmeg, turmeric, red pepper flakes, salt and pepper.
  3. Pour the dressing over the carrot mixture and toss to coat. Sprinkle in the feta cheese and toss lightly. Or forget to add the cheese
  4. Serve immediately or cover and chill in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

Adapted from Sara Forte, Sprouted Kitchen