Pardon our mess! We’re moving hosting providers and making some updates to the site. Any broken images will be back soon.
Thanks for your patience!
No doubt, my secret wish has been to be a writer. But I also knew that once I got paid, I’d belong to the graduating class. I got paid recently by the lovely Amanda at Easton Savvy for a piece (see it in all it’s published glory here). Ironically, it was also the piece that…
When I travel, I enjoy the immersion in the different places and sites and people who are strange, new, and beautiful. To me, travel means a further comprehension of differences in cultures and being in awe of the world’s diversity and our personal uniqueness’s. The world mirrors the differences between me and you. And we…
(Originally published on Divine Caroline in September of 2009) Ask my husband about his family’s vacations and he will deliver a chirpy recount of playing guitar at beach campfires, sleeping in a pop-up camper, and the frolicking multitude of cousins. My fractured family vacation memory is one trip to a cabin. There was yelling involved….
Twenty years ago, I remember giving a guy friend some advice. He lived at home with his Mom and they had a rip- roaring dysfunctional volatile relationship. I suspect this was the same thing she’d had with his father. I said, “Choose not to play the game with her. She’ll keep trying to engage you…
I worked on this and then put it down. But to maintain and create an audience, I finished and offered it up for publication. So, if you are not a friend on my Facebook page, or reside in Easton and regular reader of the Talbot Spy, enjoy a feature-length article I wrote on my ascent…
The word ‘control’ seems to embody mankind’s split personality. We profess we are in control and turn around and toss it away unceremoniously. Both precious and free, we play with the word and cheapen its power. We speak of being “out of control” when it seems to me we attempt to and successfully score control…
It all started with the floors. As the holidays careened toward their inevitable conclusion and the hope of a New Year was poised on the figurative horizon, all I could see was my filthy floors. Prior to the arrival of my seasonal company, I should have finished the preparations with the floors clean. However, a…
At 9am on a mid-October Saturday, my husband had called me at our home in Denton from his cell phone. Neither of us recalls the reason for this call. Before the line went dead, he utters the equivalent of “Freaking cat” and probably more unheard expletives. Our cat Butthead had stowed away in the back…
In my clueless skinny twenties, I house-sat for my neighbor Judy. I was bewildered by the Retin-A products in her bathroom and her new zeal for fitness as she attempted to the weight she visualized equaling a hunk of meat from the grocery store. I’m now the age she was then and my belly is…
Archives
