From If I Ran The Zoo, © 1950, Dr. Seuss
As he drones on and on about the meteorological reasons the clouds are forming heavy and dark above our heads, I smile secretly.
In high school, the nerdy boys – the ones who wore thick glasses and crewcuts and got all A’s in science, math, and astronomy – congregated around me.
I was horrified. Continue reading
As I walked down the expansive beach to join my family sitting by the sea, a noisy small plane flew over us, swinging a banner that proclaimed loudly and happily: Congrats Mr. and Mrs. Michael Smith.
I seethed and simmered and sank into a bit of a funk.
However, as I approached the females in the family – my daughter, niece, sister-in-law, and 20-something-babysitter – they all rejoiced out loud, exclaiming, “Did you see the banner? Isn’t that sweet?”
My thunderous expression shocked them. Continue reading
I don’t know if I believe in Karma.
I’m not even sure what Karma is.
But, I am absolutely positive that I experience Karma this week.
It all begins with a smirk. Continue reading
The weather is frightful outside. You have just arrived home from a hard day at work, your feet are freezing, and your brain is fried. You collapse on the big cozy chair in front of the fireplace with a cup of hot tea and pick up a good book. Your dog sits on your feet, puts his head on your knee, and asks with warm, pleading brown eyes, “Please, please, please take me out for a walk.”
You say YES.
You are divorced and have vowed that you will raise your two young children on your own, with no help from a man, thank you very much. In fact, you have no intention of dating for quite a while. Your best friend introduces you to a tall, attractive, persistent man (he involves you in hours-long, long-distance phone conversations and acts as if you are extremely fascinating and intelligent). Ten months later, he asks you to marry him… Continue reading
I met an amazingly ordinary couple this week. They own their own nursery, where they grow and sell day lilies and hostas, hydrangea and roses, astilbes and lavender.
My guy and I visited their little nursery in hopes of filling in some gaps where 8-feet of snow devastated some of our flowering bushes. Although the drive was not far from our village outside of Boston, the green-hooded winding lanes, acreages of pastureland with grazing cows, a farm here, another white-spired church there, made us feel like it could just as easily be 1940, or 1840, instead of 2015. Continue reading