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
I picked her up in the late afternoon.
I was tired and just wanted to go for a walk, start dinner, open a bottle of wine, relax – finally. But my daughter had called me in a panic earlier in the day: “Can you pick up Sophie from Russian math later today? I overbooked with the two boys.”
Being a woman who always wants to be a “good mom” and an even better grandmother, I said yes even before I asked “where?” Continue reading
I hate department stores. I don’t use the word “hate” lightly. The empty vastness of material nothingness; the bright lights spotlighting our greed; the vapid noise of elevator music and high-pitched meaningless laughter.
Thus, when my daughter suggests I go with her and my 11-year-old granddaughter for a girls’ day of shopping, I respond immediately:
“Of course. I’d love to.”