Happy New Year, everyone! What say we make this the year we all successfully publish our lovely books? Okay? Not to get all nostalgic on you, but this has been an amazing past year. My manuscript, All The Dancing … Continue reading
Have I mentioned my dear husband lately? You know, the one who brings me my morning paper and a nice skinny latte, no foam, no sugary stuff — without being asked? That Guy? (He does dishes, too, by the way.) … Continue reading
Okay, everyone — hold up your glasses. I’d like to make a toast. I know it’s not New Year’s Eve yet, but you can’t blame a girl for getting a jump on things. I can’t let this perfectly good glass … Continue reading
How many people decide to have their kitchen remodeled four days before Christmas? Not many, I’d wager. For one thing, it puts a cramp in the annual cookie baking extravaganza when the oven is unplugged and the refrigerator is inaccessible. … Continue reading
As a child, I was sick every Christmas. Every Christmas! I had rheumatic fever. Scarlet fever — twice. Chicken pox. Measles. Pneumonia. The sniffles. The creeping crud. You name it, I got it. Every Christmas I was sick. Until I … Continue reading
It’s been five days since I’ve had the courage to pull up to my computer. Five days since I heard the news that things were getting close. Very close. Then … three days now of swallowing hard, wiping tears, finding … Continue reading
I used to be the silent suffering type. Thirteen years ago, I recovered from brain surgery on nothing more than Extra Strength Tylenol four times a day. I dragged myself from a wheelchair and flopped around in a freezing swimming … Continue reading
Yesterday I wrote of my father. Today’s thoughts are of mom. She was the one in the apron. The one who held us together with a spoon and a spatula. Mother knew how to knead. Her breads were beyond compare. … Continue reading
My father was an artist. A commercial advertising artist. I picture him often, standing at his drawing board, a pencil behind his ear, his teeth holding another pencil, while he deftly moved a third pencil over a large sheet of … Continue reading
Okay, here’s the thing. The scar from my surgery is clinging to my wrist bone like an alien face-hugger. It won’t let go! So, I’m in physical therapy three times a week, with self-manipulation of my poor, beleaguered wrist three … Continue reading