Kris Radish's Blog

Just this second the sky is a littered with ribbons of red and orange.  There is a backdrop of deep blue caressing the edges of the horizon as if this entire half of the universe is playing catch-me-if-you-can.

It’s absolutely beautiful.  My throat is up between my eyeballs and this is a moment of joy that happens more than you might think.

These little gems are everywhere.

This morning I saw my daughter’s huge feet poking out from the bottom of her too-small-bed and her lovely hands tangled in her

My daughter is a hair short of six feet tall and her legs come up past most people’s waistlines.  She’s also attractive in that, “I can see and reach things you cannot reach”way that makes tall people seem beautiful by simply walking. It’s kind of a tall-equals-confident look.

She also happens to be pretty.  Now there’s a interesting word if I ever wrote one.  But it’s definately not hard to look at her.  One of my favorite things in the world is when we are togeather and people say, “Oh, your da

Am I the only one who thinks these reality shows are pathetic? Do we really need to see a mess of children turn into the definition of dysfunction? Do we really need to know about the bathroom habits of burned out rock and wrestling stars?

At the risk of sounding conventional and like an aging hippie I think what we really need is a dose of our own reality.

We need simple things. 

Homemade waffles. Everyone cuddling in the same bed. A quiet night on the back porch.  Long walks without talking while

Just about every Friday people are always saying to me, “Have a nice weekend.”

While that’s a very nice thing to say, weekends have never been, well weekends.  I work every day.  I never really see it as work because I love what I do.  I also work late into the night.  Last night for example, when the police came to the door at 2 a.m. because they thought someone here had dialed 911, I was working.

Well, some people would say I was sleeping.  But really, I was working on my novel and the second th

This morning there is a quiet hum in the house. Most people would say, “Oh, yes.  It’s the dryer, air conditioner, and the soft swishing of the fans.” But they would be wrong.

This morning the hum is my heart.  It’s singing like a spring bird.  It’s because my daughter is asleep in the next room.  All six feet of her is curled around her pillow, feet sticking out like they have since she was a baby, hair tangled as if it’s been blowing in the wind all night, hands twitching while she dreams about

My mom is coming tomorrow for a visit and I bet she’s going to rearrange the furniture and tell me to get more plastic containers to store my food…!

She is my dad’s primary caregiver and this trip is a much needed break from the 24-7 that she willingly provides.  Even devoted, loving, wives need a short break, so my equally wonderful sister is moving in with dad for a few days so my mom can have a tiny vacation. And I get to wine, dine, pamper, and spend my own 24-7 with my mother.

When I traveled

It is hard to remain breathless for a long period of time but that is exactly what happened to me this past weekend in Michigan. And this is exactly what I love the most about life….not knowing.

Not knowing that the poems you have created one morning, one night, and another night will years later be set to music and sung at a concert that is an astonishing, emotional mingling of souls, hearts and talents.

Not knowing that the words you have placed in lines that dance from your own heart will touch

Tomorrow I am back on the road for a short trip to Michigan.  Hey, it’s a happening state. And the entire weekend is going to be like The Radish living in the middle of her own poetry.

Sistrum, a Lansing based choral group, has worked with Los Angeles composer Jenni Brandon, to set poetry from my novel, Dancing Naked at the Edge of Dawn and other poems into music. I know.  I’m shocked also. Their concerts, tomorrow and Saturday, are called Dancing Naked at the Edge of Dawn - I think that’s a catc

Here’s why I dislike television. 

Last night’s Bggest Loser is a whopping 48 years old.  The poor thing should be in a nursing home.  Someone should tell her to stop coloring her hair, rest more often, check her long-term care policy, and stop acting like she’s as young as she feels.

I mean, what the hell. 

We are being peppered with stories on every form of media today about how this old chick beat the pants off of the other overweight contestants on The Biggest Loser program. Thus we are supposed

A few months ago while we were unpacking I found this laminated Mother’s Day card that I gave my mom when I was about six years old.  There was a lively crayon colored flower on the front, the simple words, I Love you, on the inside, and I signed it, Love, Kristy.

I haven’t been Kristy for a long time, but when I heard my own mother’s happy voice yesterday, I realized that she still thinks of me as Kristy sometimes.  It made me even more homesick than I already am.

My two babies came through in re