Blog Archive

“Own your self, own your history, own your body, own your life for what it is” Tamiko Nimura’s advice to her 15-year-old-self

April 19, 2017

Over the last ten years, our paths have crossed in so many places—yoga, the playground of our kids’ elementary school, cafés, and of course, the halls of the university where we both once worked. I always think that walking in the same circles is a good indicator of a kindred spirit. At the same time, these serendipitous conversations with Tamiko Nimura are Way Too Short. So, I’m especially grateful that she agreed to participate in this interview, and gave me the chance to get to know her a bit better.

With so many similar interests—love of nature and family, literature, art, and music—I guess it really surprised me to see that her comments on PE are the ones that made...

Over the last ten years, our paths have crossed in so many places—yoga, the playground of our kids’ elementary school, cafés, and of course, the halls of the university where we both once worked. I always think that walking in the same circles is a good indicator of a kindred spirit. At the same time, these serendipitous conversations with Tamiko Nimura are Way Too Short. So, I’m especially grateful that she agreed to participate in this interview, and gave me the chance to get to know her a bit better.

With so many similar interests—love of nature and family, literature, art, and music—I guess it really surprised me to see that her comments on PE are the ones that made...

sun after wind

April 9, 2017

sun after wind

April 9, 2017

The Salish Sea. A regarder en boucle.

March 30, 2017

The golden Salish Sea at Semiahmoo that filled my lens a few summers ago, and this video my sister Kaye caught last night.

The golden Salish Sea at Semiahmoo that filled my lens a few summers ago, and this video my sister Kaye caught last night.

Pink’s is for medievalists

March 25, 2017

First I got to talk about This is Not a Werewolf Story with a bunch of people who love medieval literature as much as I do, then I got to go to Pink’s. Best long weekend ever, thanks to the Medieval Association of the Pacific, Loyola Marymount University, and my fellow panelists Jes Battis and Kim Zarins. Who knew there were so many of us writing YA works inspired by our scholarship?

First I got to talk about This is Not a Werewolf Story with a bunch of people who love medieval literature as much as I do, then I got to go to Pink’s. Best long weekend ever, thanks to the Medieval Association of the Pacific, Loyola Marymount University, and my fellow panelists Jes Battis and Kim Zarins. Who knew there were so many of us writing YA works inspired by our scholarship?

Pink’s is for medievalists

March 25, 2017

First I got to talk about This is Not a Werewolf Story with a bunch of people who love medieval literature as much as I do, then I got to go to Pink’s. Best long weekend ever, thanks to the Medieval Association of the Pacific, Loyola Marymount University, and my fellow panelists Jes Battis and Kim Zarins. Who knew there were so many of us writing YA works inspired by our scholarship?

First I got to talk about This is Not a Werewolf Story with a bunch of people who love medieval literature as much as I do, then I got to go to Pink’s. Best long weekend ever, thanks to the Medieval Association of the Pacific, Loyola Marymount University, and my fellow panelists Jes Battis and Kim Zarins. Who knew there were so many of us writing YA works inspired by our scholarship?

Whidbey News Times

March 4, 2017

Lucky to meet so many kindred spirits at Crescent Harbor Elementary. Thanks to Daniel Warn for this article.

Lucky to meet so many kindred spirits at Crescent Harbor Elementary. Thanks to Daniel Warn for this article.

Home

March 4, 2017

Last Friday I had the chance to go back to Whidbey Island and visit the students at Crescent Harbor Elementary. Like a lot of the students in the library that afternoon, I’m a Navy brat. That means answering the question, “Where are you from?” always takes a beat or two to answer.

To me, where I’m from is a place I’ve never really lived.

A few months ago I was driving I-5 north of Burlington, heading towards the Canadian border. The highway narrows there, hacked into the hillside, evergreens crowd either side. Home. The word was there. This stretch of freeway leads to the little town where I was born and lived for the first few years of my...

Last Friday I had the chance to go back to Whidbey Island and visit the students at Crescent Harbor Elementary. Like a lot of the students in the library that afternoon, I’m a Navy brat. That means answering the question, “Where are you from?” always takes a beat or two to answer.

To me, where I’m from is a place I’ve never really lived.

A few months ago I was driving I-5 north of Burlington, heading towards the Canadian border. The highway narrows there, hacked into the hillside, evergreens crowd either side. Home. The word was there. This stretch of freeway leads to the little town where I was born and lived for the first few years of my...

Home

March 4, 2017

Last Friday I had the chance to go back to Whidbey Island and visit the students at Crescent Harbor Elementary. Like a lot of the students in the library that afternoon, I’m a Navy brat. That means answering the question, “Where are you from?” always takes a beat or two to answer.

To me, where I’m from is a place I’ve never really lived.

A few months ago I was driving I-5 north of Burlington, heading towards the Canadian border. The highway narrows there, hacked into the hillside, evergreens crowd either side. Home. The word was there. This stretch of freeway leads to the little town where I was born and lived for the first few years of my...

Last Friday I had the chance to go back to Whidbey Island and visit the students at Crescent Harbor Elementary. Like a lot of the students in the library that afternoon, I’m a Navy brat. That means answering the question, “Where are you from?” always takes a beat or two to answer.

To me, where I’m from is a place I’ve never really lived.

A few months ago I was driving I-5 north of Burlington, heading towards the Canadian border. The highway narrows there, hacked into the hillside, evergreens crowd either side. Home. The word was there. This stretch of freeway leads to the little town where I was born and lived for the first few years of my...