In my last column, I wrote about my excitement over having a wild bird land on my head. Now, I’ve just come inside from having fed two. One Eastern Phoebe waited on our deck rail while another ate her fill from the palm of my hand. The moment she left, the second took her place, chirping swe…
I was at my computer, struggling over my wording in an email to a friend my age who recently had open heart surgery.
So, um, Don and I--we kind of bought a warehouse.
Like millions of people worldwide, I have embraced the tradition of starting the New Year by setting myself up for certain failure by choosing resolutions I’m unlikely to keep.
Being with Don has changed me in so many ways.
Global supply chain horror stories have some of us running scared about being able to find—and receive in time—thoughtful gifts for those on our list this Christmas. Usually by now, I’ve finished most of my shopping, but this time around, I’ve barely begun. I normally have so many ideas, mon…
Don and I were recently watching a Netflix show, “Locke & Key,” about a family whose ancestors created keys with magical abilities. For instance, the angel key enables the bearer to sprout wings and fly, and the anywhere key transports the holder anywhere in the world they visualize as t…
Halloween just isn’t the same this year, with my daughter now living four hours away.
Not long ago, I received an email from a woman in her early 70s who wrote about how salesclerks have started to treat her like she’s a “doddering old fool.”
It’s becoming a sadly common experience lately — being made to feel foolish for not possessing mind-reading skills when attempting to conduct a transaction.
Generally, I need no help from others to embarrass myself. I have a lifetime of experience at this. I can not only tangle both of my left feet, but also have one foot in my mouth at the very same time.
Mine has been a life of many regrets. When there’s been a fork in my road, I have almost always headed off the wrong way. I recently made yet another dumb move. It seemed right at the moment. I’m certain now it was not.
Tina Sirianni has been one of my closest friends ever since she moved in next door when I still lived in Teays Valley.
Our neighbor, two doors over, built a treehouse in his yard, down by the creek.
Don seldom calls when I’m at work, but he was simply too excited to wait.
I arrived in Ohio the middle of last week to watch my parents while my brother and his wife left town for a bit.
I’m not sure how the song came to be stuck in my head. I hadn’t been listening to oldies; hadn’t thought of the song in decades. But there, between my ears, was Anne Murray, belting out her ‘83 hit on seemingly endless repeat.
It was a most-welcome sign of life returning to normal — a giant, outside flea market on a beautiful May Saturday morning. Even better, it was the day after payday, and we lucked into a parking spot close to the front.
For decades, I’ve been collecting quotes, tacking them one atop another on my bulletin board. Digging through the layers can be like trying to read my own memoir, only cryptic, as I sometimes puzzle to recall what was happening in my life that caused a quote to resonate enough to be saved.
I recently wrote about those times when life offers an opportunity to deliver a clever retort, and asked readers to share a few of their own.
I never went to Rutgers, but one of my favorite sweatshirts suggests that I did. It’s a bright red hoodie, bought secondhand, that features a knight stabbing his sword through the T.
While reading a how-to article about developing characters when writing a story, I ran across a Maya Angelou quote that wedged itself in my head.
