Life
Good luck is a tradition.
Maybe they knew it was less about luck and all about love. If I accomplished only that, I’m a wee bit more magical than a leprechaun.
Continue ReadingA marriage role reversal story.
Often, I end up in the CVS greeting card aisle at 8 p.m. the evening of February 13, elbowing my way through a wall of sheepish men lined up three-deep, waiting to pick among the dregs of the red and pink cards.
Continue ReadingThe dumb end of a tape measure. A brilliant payback.
Yes, my handy hubby, someday soon you will accompany me to a place that strikes fear into the heart of many a man. A place that can weaken the knees of the toughest guy. A venue you’ve managed to avoid for years.
The fabric store.
Continue ReadingLaughing at the selves we create.
We hit up the Good Will, borrowed a few props from some friends, and I resurrected my stage make-up skills from my freshman year as a drama major. Damn, we were good.
Continue ReadingA simple question with a long answer. A one-act screenplay based on a true story
A kitchen, every surface covered with diced, sliced, or whole veggies, some still steaming and fragrant from the grill, some still raw.
Michael, Karen’s husband of 35 years, enters through the kitchen door, stage left. Dressed in colorful cycling gear, helmet in hand, he glistens in sweat, face red, dirt streaked on one calf, hair matted to his head. He looks tired but jubilant.
Karen stands at the kitchen sink, center stage. The afternoon sun shines through the spotless windows behind her, giving her hair a golden glow, her dewy complexion complimented by the soft pink flush of exertion. Trim and tan, she wipes a loose strand of silky blonde hair from her smooth forehead with the back of her youthful hand as she leans over to kiss her husband.*
Continue ReadingWhen simple solutions are – literally – right under your nose.
“We live on our front porch in the nice weather.” That’s what my husband Michael and I say, which is a bit of an exaggeration. But we do spend a lot of time there. It’s a great place to read the Sunday paper, sip our morning coffee, eat lunch on a weekend, or watch a thunderstorm. My favorite seat is the porch swing, which we hung last year after it sat in a box for 30 years.
Continue ReadingGifts of an introverted Pied Piper.
I’m the crotchety old lady who lives at the end of my street, peeking though her curtains and complaining when people disturb her.
Hmmm. Not quite right.
I’m the reclusive older neighbor who stays in for days at a time and only sneaks away for brief errands when no one is watching.
Nope. Not that either.
I’m the introverted 58 year old gardener in the brick house who relishes her solitude.
OK. That’s better.
Continue ReadingHow not to glaze a window.
When we bought our second old house 11 years ago, it needed some serious TLC. The least of our problems was the broken window glass in the basement stairwell door, which I “temporarily” fixed with blue painters tape. Last week, I decided to do the job right.
I’d done a lot of old-house renovations over 30+ years. Replacing a window would be no biggie, I thought.
Hah!
Here’s how it went:
Continue ReadingHow many selfies are too many?
I scrolled through my phone. I smiled. I giggled. Then I doubled over, laughing hysterically. I thought I would pee my pants.
Continue ReadingA birthday surprise.
At this very moment, as my husband opens this blog, he is probably spitting out his morning coffee and falling off his kitchen stool.
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