“Are you sure you want to go?” I ask Violet.
“Oh, yes, the evening sounds delightful,” she answers in her proper English, with a slight quiver to her voice. Violet’s small, hazel eyes beam, the thin white hair on her head moving as if in a breeze as she nods her head.
“Dinner might be enough. You’ve just only been feeling better,” I suggest. Violet and I became friends while she attended my writing classes. We’re a strange combination: she is an 80-year-old widow from New Zealand and works in a New Age city bookstore; I’m married, decades younger, and work in the suburbs.
“I read the book, Violet. It’s a sweet romance, but it’s sad too. I’m not sure the movie…” Continue reading
Pretend that you’re not a shy writer who
Relies on solitude and a radio station with a classical
Orchestra to hear your muse and to
Muse about your characters, like a lonely cat and an Continue reading
No matter how carefully we back up, we still run into a memory.
Or a car.
That’s what happens to me this week. I stop at the parking lot and run into the post office to buy some stamps.
I race back to my car. The thermometer reads 22 degrees, but with the wind chill, the meteorologist reports that it feels like 5.
The cold snap snaps me back to the winter I cross-country skied with my friend’s husband in Minnesota. Continue reading
Shenanigans – silly or high-spirited behavior; mischief.
One of my blogging buddies told on himself right before Christmas – his wife likes her holiday decorations just a “certain way,” but this year, while she was working late, he put up the Santa Clauses and angels, the holly and trimmings, his way, before she came home.
Expecting a reprimand when she walked through the door, he was greeted instead with relief and a huge hugging thanks.
A successful shenanigan!
I commented on heylookawriterfeller’s blog that his shenanigan was successful because his wife loved him.
He commented back that “Love is all about putting up with shenanigans.”
I replied, “Love IS shenanigans.”
And then immediately I heard angelic harp music in the background of my brain as goose bumps traveled up my spine, and my soul got hit with an ‘aha’ moment. Continue reading
I walk the strangely silent town at 7 a.m. The sun is blazing this time of year, when the egrets rise with the golden orb at 5:30 a.m.
Most of the humans, however, are still blearily eyeing their cups of caffeine.
So I’m almost alone this morning with the seals and the pelicans and the few pedestrians here and there, breathing in the fresh air, enjoying the satisfying strain of muscle, but also trying to fling away the worries swarming my brain like a bunch of bees. Continue reading