As I sit in the car in utter fear and mortification, counting, counting, counting, I wonder: what has led me to this humiliating, horrible experience?
Is it because of some deep-seated hatred for my brother?
No. I shake my head vehemently as I whisper 77, 78, 79… I love my brother. Continue reading
When I’m reading a book, I become a Beautiful Exile, not made of Blood and Bone and under no Rule of Law. The only Contract I’m under is between me, the author, and the characters who transplant me Through the Evil Days to a place where I can Hope for the Best and become a Dream Daughter of the reading world. Continue reading
Hanging ornaments on a Christmas tree is one of the finest pleasures of the Christmas season.
Because, of course, we’re not just hanging a silver glittery ball or a tiny red straw Santa.
We’re hanging memories.
Over the fall I made a book review sheet for each of my three grandsons who live on the other coast. These boys, ages 6-10, rarely stop moving enough to read. But of course I send them books every other month with hope in my heart.
I sweetened the book review deal with the promise of giving them a $5 Amazon gift card for each review they return. I sent them each three blank reviews. Continue reading
Not sensible at all, falling in love with a dog. But I’ve discovered a secret.
First, let me talk about Scooby. And his best friend, my nephew. T didn’t grow up with a dog, but he’d wanted one desperately during his childhood. So after college, when he began his first job in a new city living in a tiny rental with three other guys, T followed his sentimental dream – he rescued a dog.
Scooby came from a run-down shelter with no pedigree and was a bit of a handful at first. Continue reading
