Posted by: roughwighting | April 17, 2015

Tea Done Wight

tea, latte, tea drinkerMy day begins with tea.

A “Pam Latte” it’s been called at the cafes I’ve frequented. A CA friend (who owned a coffee/tea bar) named it “Tea Done Wight” and offered it on her bar menu.

That all changed when I moved from the Bay Area to New England. I had to re-introduce my tea of choice to the new establishment.

In the beginning, back in the fall right after I moved to this Boston suburb, I had to ask for the whole caboodle: Read More…

Posted by: roughwighting | April 10, 2015

PLAY Time!

play, dance, writeI will never forget the time I made my mother-in-law (MIL) laugh.

She was a sweet, kind, quiet mother of seven children and grandmother of a growing brood. She smiled and cooed, she cooked and cared for all, but for the first years I knew her, she never laughed.

Until I stomped. Read More…

Posted by: roughwighting | April 3, 2015

The Weight of Thoughts

weighty thoughts, angelSome times I can feel my bones straining under the weight of my thoughts. And that’s wrong, all wrong, so I strain more in the down dog position, where my arms and wrists and shoulders take on the weight of my trunk.

My trunk. What a word for my body, which is pack full of multi-grain toast this morning, as well as three cups of hot green tea that have not found a way to warm my too-cold fingers as I type about my bones.

My bones. I imagine my bones are light as a skeleton, while the rest of me – my muscles, my blood, my skin – is too heavy for what lies within.yoga, down dog

But the heaviest weight is definitely my thoughts. Read More…

Posted by: roughwighting | March 27, 2015

A Heinz 57 Evening

Heinz 57, mutt, writing, book clubThis past week I was invited to talk to a Book Club of 15 women whom I’d never met in a town 30 minutes away.

The 10-year-old group, which discusses a new book monthly with dinner and drinks, focused this night on my romantic suspense: The Right Wrong Man.

author, writer, writing, The Right Wrong Man

A real author.

 After I met the hostess of a large and lovely New England home and stood by the kitchen counter (where the appetizers, wine and soft drinks were served), I was introduced to all the club members. Each woman oohed and ahhed about meeting a “real author.”

I must admit, it was thrilling.

monster behind the closet, book club, writing

But my ego was diverted once in a while by a mysterious door located near the kitchen. Someone, or something, seemed to be kicking at the door from the inside, making a sad, lonesome, and frequent banging sound. Sometimes the eerie and alien-like noise emitting forth from the other side of the door gave  me a chilling sense that the door might explode open at any time. Read More…

Posted by: roughwighting | March 20, 2015

Fear of Big Feet

Cinderella, DisneyCan you think back to the first book you ever read?

Here I am, my 4-year-old self, on the green-carpeted floor, the sun pouring over me like water over a flower. I coo with pleasure as the sunlight highlights the pictures on my skinny “Golden” book with pages ruffled from turning them so many times.

The spine is broken, but I don’t care. I caress the cover of a beautiful lady with golden hair, a pink bow-shaped mouth, and a soft blue dress that fits tightly on her body until it opens wide and flows down to her toes.

I squeal the title out loud. Read More…

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »

Categories

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 675 other followers