I write them
stitch them
tell them
perform them.
Coming from an abundant legacy of clothworkers, caregivers, and story tenders, stories are my oxygen. Sometimes my stage is the page, sometime it’s the stage, sometimes it’s a soapbox, and sometimes it’s a piece of cloth. I write, stitch, and perform stories about remarkable, resourceful, resilient women (Pink Galoshes Portraits, I call them – you know, women who, when faced with adversities, pull on their pink galoshes and tromp on through the mud and the muck to get to where they need to go.); about people with special needs (like Nancy, for example); about dark spots in world history.

Me, I’m just your basic complicated simple red dirt girl fluent only in English and Southern, Charming and Cranky who feels most beautiful when wearing earrings that dangle and skirts that caper. Having survived two teenagers, a Cesarean delivery without anesthesia, hanging wallpaper with my husband, and Christmas, 1993, I’m most proud of the fact that I never, ever had to attend a PTA meeting under an assumed name.