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Kelly Tweeddale's Blog

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“Potty, Mama.  Potty.” Amid the generous aisles of the superstore, Paige tried to encourage her daughter’s statement of independence.  At just twenty months she was a toddler eager to gain more control over her body and its many functions.  Paige scooped her in her arms, hoping this wasn’t another...
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When I was in eighth grade I was the Invisible Girl. No cape or fancy emblem, but my superhero power allowed me to blend in no matter how much I tried to stand out. And I really wanted to stand out. Eventually I learned how to accomplish selected visibility, but I never lost my superhero powers.  I...
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Breathing on the Run
Yes, the lyrics of Anna Nalick’s song are worming their way through my brain.  Perhaps it all started with reading an article on running and how to improve one’s performance.  Evidently, breathing exclusively through your nose versus your mouth brings many benefits.  First, you trigger the filter...
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Today of all days, I tell myself that I should write.  In my mind I hear myself, using the words I used to say to my raging three year old, so many years ago. “Use your words” but still nothing seems to come close to the storm of emotions that have paralyzed both my mind and body.  As our country...
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Road trip finds
No summer is complete without a good old-fashioned road trip.  For me road trips have always signaled the end of summer: loading up the yellow Mercury Capri to head to college, driving from coast to coast with the summer boyfriend that felt the need to confess his undying love for his ex-girlfriend...
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On August 3, 2010, at Seattle Opera's annual meeting, I addressed the state of one of Seattle's leading cultural organizations in the wake of an economic crisis that has put many non-profit organizations out of business and seriously threatens many more.  But economics isn't our only enemy.  I...
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Not my style
I believe that words matter.  Not just because they create language, but more importantly because words help us to define, differentiate, and give meaning to whom we are and what we do.  Words also help us to describe the nuances of life and to capture the emotions that when left undocumented are...
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Virginia Woolf
It was murder in the first-degree. As much as I try to convince them that it was the maid in the kitchen with the butcher knife, it is well-known that we don’t have a maid and the most probable suspect with a heavy dose of opportunity and motive would be me: a working woman on her day off teetering...
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  I wear an opal ring. They say it is bad luck.  I am a marked woman because it is not my birthstone and I was not born in October. They say its curse is lessened if given as a gift. But I think not, since I coveted this ring and its dainty setting, its years of history hidden away in the...
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Taffeta & Lace
The first time I saw an advertisement for a running skirt, I was outraged.  Almost a century ago our Victorian sisters put freedom of movement ahead of fashion with the introduction of the pantaloon and women have been on a quest to wear pants ever since.  I come from the “Annie Oakley” era of...
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Songs in the digital age
The best songs are like a good short story. They both have a clear point of view and just enough space between the words for the listener or the reader to bring their own life history or interpretation to bear.  They haunt you, they stick with you, they transport you. They are woven together with...
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YOUNG AMELIA:    What does it feel like to fly? DODGE:                   Imagine a feather pushed up by the wind,                                  climbing through sea mist and clouds,                                  propelled into blue. YOUNG AMELIA:    Are you afraid? DODGE:                   ...
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Wellesley College poster
On April 9, 2010 I posted all the questions that I had either been asked or I was asking myself prior to running the Boston Marathon for the first time.  My conclusion and the only answer I could give at that point was “I don’t know.”  I completed the 114th Boston Marathon on Monday, April 19, 2010...
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Man with a Beard
It was quite by accident that I discovered a remarkable anthology of poetry and song last week.  I stumbled across Natalie Merchant’s performance on TEDTalks where she brings old poems, many of them written for children, to life in a spellbinding 30 minute performance/lecture that reminded me of...
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And the question is. . .
As the Boston Marathon looms just 10 days away, people eager to cheer me on have posed many a question.  They are different than the questions that are rolling around my brain, but for all the answer remains the same.  You see, I’ve run one, that is right, one marathon in my life, and for some...
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