The Residue of Love
Mother’s Day is over. The kids and grandkids have gone home. My house is silent—but not empty. It’s filled with a contented sigh. I love the aftermath. Having friends or … Continue reading
That Sinking Feeling
Long ago, I planned to learn scuba diving because I grew up loving the silent, graceful universe beneath the waves of local lakes. I applied for a job teaching in … Continue reading
Series Stupor!
Just one more episode…! Series are like potato chips or maybe peanuts. You think taking time for one can’t hurt, and then you’re stuck for hours and hours binge watching … Continue reading
Rattling the Swords of Strength?
What exactly is strength? I just skimmed an article about the fierce female warriors in GAME OF THRONES and I cheered for the ones in BLACK PANTHER, but does a … Continue reading
The Spring of Us
One of the best parts of spring is the message of hope—freedom, resurrection, rebirth. The temperatures rise and dreary brown earth hosts green shoots. Every year I listen with anticipation … Continue reading
Let It Go; Let It Go-oh…
Imagine yourself free. What does that look like? What does it feel like? Give yourself permission to release old hurts, unhealed angers, seemingly unsolvable conflicts. Give yourself permission to be … Continue reading
It’s Not Funny If It’s…Snot
Does EVERYONE have allergies some time in life? I don’t remember having allergies until after I was married. When I was young, we lived in a forest. I spent lots … Continue reading
Soothing the Savage Breast
“What radio station do you listen to?” she asked me. It was a trap, but I didn’t care. I had already been emotionally culled from the faculty herd as an … Continue reading
The Optimism of Spring
Glorious spring! Today our local temperatures are climbing as are brave green sprouts. Okay, they’re weeds, but they’re still brave and they’re still green. In spite of disheartening global news, … Continue reading
On Reading for Entertainment and Brainpower
As I was pushing myself through THE BLIND ASSASSIN by Margaret Atwood, I asked myself why I’d waited so long to read a really well written book. I began to … Continue reading
