Since we’re getting so close to Christmas – only two more weeks for those of you like me who have barely started preparing – I was going to write something sweet and nostalgic for the Holiday. With all I have left to do, I may not get to blog again before December 25. But […]
I know it’s almost a week away, but I want to share this special Thanksgiving piece I wrote a few years ago. Those of us who wax nostalgic over holidays can’t get enough of this stuff. 🙂 There’s an old Thanksgiving song that starts out, “Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house
Yikes. I did it. I applied for Social Security. Wasn’t it just last year that I helped my mother do that? Where have the last twenty years gone? Getting older has never really bothered me. Some people obsess about turning forty, or fifty, or even sixty, and I can laugh at the “mourning” parties with
Last week most of us probably watched the news, stunned at the horrible tragedy in Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania where Carl Charles Roberts IV entered the Amish schoolhouse and shot 10 girls on October Second. I know I couldn’t believe it, and the first thought I had was, “When is it ever going to end?” When
I did it! For the first time in my life I read the sports page of the newspaper. “So what’s the big deal,” you might want to ask. “It’s not like you’re blazing new trails here. Some women have been enjoying the latest in sports news for some time now. What took you so long?”
The following is one of the essays in my new book, A Dead Tomato Plant & A Paycheck. It first appeared here on the blog in 2006, but it is still fun to read today. Check it out, then check out the book for more fun reading. In all honesty, most of us will have
My son called recently to tell us that his wife had gone to visit relatives for a few days and had taken their baby. So he was alone in the house – except for the dogs – for the first time since baby’s arrival in their lives. He sounded a little wistful as he talked
When we built our house a number of years ago, the spare bedroom was delegated to be my home office where I would write the novel that would enable my husband to retire and live off my royalties. I’m not sure if the agreement stemmed from some magnanimous gesture on his part, or if he
A Writer’s Workspace Read More »
At age ten I decided to be a writer. My friend and I were in our favorite reading spot, a small clearing in a wooded area with a blanket between us and a colony of ants. I hugged my just-finished book to my chest, watched wisps of clouds drift across the blue expanse of sky,
Musing on The Writing Life Read More »
As we all know, writers are by nature very insecure people, especially in the early years when perhaps the only thing we get published is a letter to the editor and that’s cut from four paragraphs to three lines. In fact, for years basic insecurity was the only thing I had to affirm my credibility
Writing Insecurely Read More »
