I am thinking about how music allows me to reflect on life.

A pause to bring clarity and motivation to see the endless beauty that is our life together.

Songs composed just for us.

Words written with our souls hovering somewhere nearby.

Notes that formed in a place and time far from here.

Somehow though we must have been there too because someone is playing for us.

As art is public as it is private, I know that someone else is listening too.

Hello there friend. How about a quick dance out of time and space?


Two Cents

One. Do you have a favorite sweatshirt that’s as old as dirt so its really soft? Wrap over a breastfeeding pillow to create great cuddle arms for your nightweaning toddler.

Two. Outgrown the infant bath? Make it a sand and/or water pit. This was fun for a gamut of ages at our house, and is infinitely flexible. This could work as a snow bath too in those cold places.

Top 3 Eric Carle Books for Ages 0-2+ and Why

The Very Hungry Caterpillar is by far the most popular and deservedly so.

  • Visually stunning and textually captivating
  • A magnificent finale
  • So very naturally in sync with earthly vibrations
  • And all that curiously merging  collage art…

Now, that seems  like every book of his I ever read.

Each one is a tiny, but explosive delight to the eyeballs and brain.

A visit to the library often reveals an unknown Eric Carl book, and I realize I have only just begun to unravel the beauty of his stories…P_20171212_180639.jpg

..and I have been reading since my Mama was both my eyes and ears.

I was just where my toddler was only recently-though now he is a little head and eyes and ears all his own.

What makes it so intriguing?  I wonder, as said toddler collapses in sheer joy.

Let’s take a look at his three favorite books until now for some enlightening entertainment:

1. The Very Busy Spider

“No, no, no, no sun/cat/chicken, I’m spinning my web.” Toddler says in a singsong voice as he turns the many pages of animals trying in vain to deter a dead set spider from the task at hand.

He does love saying “no”, probably as most of us  do, .but I think its more about that…

  • Utter engagement with a heady and important task

2. From Head to Toe


We read this book for the first time right when Toddler could touch his toes, wave his arms, etc. This is right after he had grasped the whole Head, Shoulder, Knees, and Toes thing.

“I can do it!”

Clearly, this book is a delight in…


3. Brown Bear Brown Bear (Co-authored with Bill Martin, Jr.)


Preschool Story time – Everyone in Everyday Ecstasy

No doubt the appeal of Oso Café (Brown Bear) is the constant page turning…

  • Element of splendid revelation

Who is looking at me? Why its a Blue Horse!!!! But of course.

Above all, children yearn like us all (deep down) to be one with the earth. I have never seen a toddler prefer a book over a pine cone, or rock, or feather.

But Carle’s books are special because they give us a…


Thank you Eric Carle and children’s authors everywhere.

For the many chances to celebrate…

  • Hard work
  • Our similarities as living beings
  • Our own gifts and those that others bring to our lives
  • Innocence and simplicity
  • Growth


  • A kaleidoscopic ensemble of earth’s greatest treasures


The bottoms of our hearts


(Video: Bill Martin, Jr)

The Official Eric Carle Web Site








Tuesday’s Brain Food

1 chapter of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and a picture book about polar bears to help my sweet babe to fall asleep

A couple of pages from a piece by Louis Carroll called Feeding the Mind

A few moments of mind quiet and rhythmic breathing during a long afternoon swim

A prayer here and there

An old short and some poems from the writer’s corner here on Miss Corrigan (Wondering how my thought processes have changed since 2012 when I began the blog.)

An hour or so of closet organizing





Alien Corpse Found in Home Installation

It was the abused children and Anne Frank during my elementary years. High school was for racism and undergrad was for classism.

Grad school was for the impoverished.

Late twenties was for death and mother earth.

Early thirties was for animal suffering.

This a timeline of my sorrows: The source of deep sunken tears when my thoughts turn dark and lonesome. Image

I have this place where my sorrows stir. Where if I wallow too long, I get stuck in the muck.

The only way out is…


…a moment in the presence of the amazing


…laughter at the absurd


…a dream reawakened by the hope that someday…one day…

…forgiveness in the arms of the Most Patient Above.

…the tiny spark of love

anxious to ignite

a simple glance to the light

to scatter my fright.


(Post written in 2014-February)

Digging up bones

Last night my sister in law had a movie night with her best friends in our shared home. I told one of the friends to check out the Qatiaf recipe if she is interested on my blog. Her response:”You have a blog?! What is it and why don’t I subscribe to it??!”

Her enthusiasm apparently excited something inside me to get back to MissCorrigan. Maybe it had to do with remembering how much I enjoy close friends doing nothing but enjoying the evening. Maybe its the power of nostagia; or the need to make sense of things so not to lose perspective…its so easy to go off track.

Earlier that evening, I lost perspective (for the upteenth time) and yelled at my husband for a couple hours-what was the reason for my anger? Ok-Anything that comes to my mind in anger-I went through the crawl space of my subconscious and found some things in there…

Spilled Milk

Spilled Milk

Then I went to sleep and dreamed that I was in the front seat of a roller coaster that I knew was completely absent of track at the end. It went way too fast and ended in a loopdy loop at the end dropping to the ground and ending my life. I felt the very end of it-my life and woke immediately.

But somehow today my mind is clear. It is currently uploading 42,900 memories  into my brain theater. I remember how I told a concerned adult at 16, when I felt the first twinges of real sadness (that is part of all lives but too deafening to deal with adequately as a naive human) that the reason I was depressed had to do with some girls at school making me feel bad. Almost 20 years later I am doing the same thing with my husband; telling him the reason for my tumultuous feelings had to do with this or that, him or her, and ultimately he was to blame.

But it never really is about any of that, is it?

Sunset on Hilltop

Sunset on Hilltop

Why do the saddest songs have the most enjoyable beats and catchiest lyrics? (See for example Slave Driver(B.Marley))

I also threatened to leave. And it hit me the many times I did just that to people in my life. The times I walked away, couldn’t forgive, gave up, started fresh. Usually I am thinking of those who left me in one way or another. Why at that moment when I yell at my husband do I actually believe that that is what I want? When my head is clear, its absolutely absurd.

“They say time can play tricks on a mem’ry
Make people forget things they knew”

I was mean too, as mean as I could be. I wish I could always be clear. My only hope is to pour my emotion into art, into body, and into mind. And leave the real joy that is real life for the loves of my life. They deserve nothing less and really, neither do I.

Hands in at all times. Except for when they are courageously up in the air in delight.