Although this post may sound a bit fanciful, or fantastical, or even impossible, it’s 100% true.
Almost 18 months ago, on a cold and snowy January morning, my 10-year-old grandson played Monopoly with me for 2 ½ hours.
That’s not the fantastical part. 
Immediately after, grandson Neville and I baked his favorite cookies: Stickeydoodles (originally called Snickerdoodles but Neville changed the name for reasons you can guess).
That’s not the fanciful part. Continue reading
“You wanna do something fun?” my irascible, twinkly-eyed 10-year-old grandson asks.
Panic ensues on my end. What Neville calls fun is called alarming in my mind. Saying “yes” to him is like opening a can of worms. Worms that scoot out of the can and wiggle their way into the crevices of mischief. Continue reading
When we realized that the safest way to celebrate Thanksgiving was to basically not celebrate Thanksgiving with our family, I pouted.
I procrastinated.
I promised myself that I would be grateful for all that I had, not what I’d miss. 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
© Shelley Steinle, illustrator.
A year ago I lost my purr.
At the time, I didn’t think of it that way. I was suffering the side effects of a concussion. All summer long I’d been unable to enjoy the activities that helped me feel fulfilled.
What’s a writer-woman to do? Continue reading
roughwighting 