At Least One Pair of Impractical Shoes A Day

I have not exactly been leading a high-heel life these past few years. Then again, I've always had problems with heels in Berlin. A lot of the streets and most of the sidewalks are made of uneven cobblestones and, believe you me, nothing shreds a good pair of heels faster. My feet have also gotten a bit wider over the years and, since heels tend to run narrow, this means a rather painful breaking in process. But I walk a lot (no car in Berlin) and I don't really like pain. These reasons combined with the fact that I've been spending so much time in sandboxes means that I just don't wear heels all that much. But I still love them. Every time I go thrifting I inevitably buy a pair or two even though I know they will probably just end up gathering dust in the back of my closet....


But my life has changed. Baby Li is now at pre-school five hours a day along with Miss Mia and I've been riding my bike all over town. Although high-heels still aren't the most ideal biking shoes, it's still much easier than walking around in them all day. So that's my goal: At least one pair of impractical shoes a day to celebrate my new found freedom. The shoes that I started the post with are actually pretty comfortable (for heels, that is..) I wore them the other day to Flughaften Tempelhof where I found a nice, secluded place off of hidden path with the lovely view above of the amber waves of grain (give me a break. I just remembered it's the 4th of July! ;) ) and the old radio tower.


I laid down my bike on its side, tossed my purse aside and pulled out a writing notebook along with Blancy, my Meisterstück Mont Blanc fountain pen.


The pen was actually a "wedding present" from my first husband (in " " because we didn't really have a wedding, just an elopement for green card purposes.....but that's another story that shall be told at another time...) because I wanted him to prove to me that he could give me something beautiful and expensive yet also luxurious and unnecessary. He did do it, but it totally went against his nature as, by nature he was very cheap. I think he literally broke out in hives afterwards....I couldn't use the pen for a few years after we split up, but now it seems enough time has passed that I feel ok about it. And there's nothing like writing with a fountain pen, let alone a Mont Blanc.


I also went over some of the songs Marcio and I are working on. We have a pretty good line up now of some jazz standards, some samba and bossa nova and some latin pieces. Now we just are on the look-out for other musicians as well as a low-key gig where we can get started. We'll see....For now I'm just so happy I have my bag, my bike, my heels and Tempelhof. ;)

Not Right For Us

So I just got word today that my short story "Weightless" has been rejected for the Glimmer Train New Writer's Contest. I've been in the short story writing racket long enough not to take it all that personally. After all, only 1 to 2 percent of what a magazine gets sent is actually published. Still, I couldn't help but be hopeful this time round because the story is damn good and it's gotten lots of really positive feedback. If not an actual cash award, I was hoping to at least get on the list of honorable mentions. But no dice.

You try to be cool about these things, to accept more or less constant rejection with grace but it's not always all that easy. It's hard to pour all that time and emotional energy into a story only to toss it into a well and never have it come back up. "Thanks for your submission, but it's just not right for us."

I like some of the stories I read in literary magazine and some of them I don't. But what I can never really see is the difference. Why are they being published while I'm not? Sometimes I fear it is all just something as precarious as luck.

If nothing else, I suppose it's good I was born with a gambling nature....

Thank You, Glimmer Train!

After years of writing and only ever getting published in very small, specialized places (if at all) I just made the Top 50 list in Glimmer Train Stories contest Best Start. Yes! True, I didn't publish a whole story (Best Start is just what it sounds like- the start or a certain section in a story limited to 1,000 words) and true, the piece won't actually be published in the magazine itself, just listed on their website but still: Glimmer Train! They are a great magazine with a great reputation and they told me only five percent of the entries made it. Maybe it will help me get published somewhere else. Even if it doesn't, it's a great encouragement and trust me, in the lonely, thankless world of a writer that is gift enough!

Here's a link the list. That's me that wrote Juanita. :)

What Is Spring In Berlin?

Spring in Berlin is about paper flowers








and yellow flowers











and flowering trees.


It's about remembering that magnolias don't only grow in California










and sometimes pretending to be one.












Spring in Berlin is bikini-clad beer flavored kisses from your lover on the grass field in Hasenheide






It is sleeping in the sun with an arm around your shoulders as you wear a cowboy hat.



Spring is bright clothes







and bright plastic
















and babies pulling on the hem of your dress.

Who am I?

Whether you've come to this blog on purpose or stumbled onto it by accident the question still remains: Who am I?
I am the girl with the camera taking self-portraits. The insomniac who lives to dream. The woman who believes in the power of the heart.



At twenty-five I moved from California where "winter" means a few weeks of rain in January and a scarf is a fashion accessory


to Berlin where spring and summer are optional and fall and winter inevitable.


I've been married twice. Once for all the wrong reasons, once for all the right. The second time was in the San Francisco Court House under a giant Christmas tree covered in origami. My father could be there which made it extra special. He died of bone cancer four months later.






My husband
may be German, but he knows the good in an old fashioned American hamburger.




What do I believe? I believe you are as
much where you came from as where you
are now.




I believe in love and in the family.








I believe in the creative life.