Sometimes I think about the treats my mother would give us when we were little. And I would wonder why she could not just bake us a nice cookie maybe? Oh right, she could not bake. Bless her heart. So my mom would give us a spoon of Crisco dipped in granulated sugar. …
Jed is insulating our attic. Our home is 100 years old with originals windows, no insulation and a cavernous attic with holes that were finally patched. We feel almost bad for the bats we’ve kicked out. My job is to clean out the attic. When we moved into our home seven years ago I was…
I saw the old farm dog approaching me. He trotted towards me on the dirt road and was carrying something small in his mouth. His tail wagged as he got closer and he proudly dropped it at my feet. A black kitten. Barely a week old. With a broken neck. I ran to…
We savored our dinner that night. Appetizers, salads, main course, dessert, coffee. We sat with good friends and laughed for hours like we had nothing waiting for us at home. I even took a few sips of Jen’s Cabernet. She promised not to tell anyone. Jed helped me gently from my chair when the evening…
Saturday was car wash day at our home. Sometimes also Sunday. Or a Tuesday in June if it was a particularly dirty week or I accidentally touched the window with my finger. I was eight so it was known to happen. We sprayed, we soaped, we scrubbed, we dried. We used a professional grade chamois. …
Giving two kids their own carts at the grocery store is like herding cats. I find myself yelling “too fast” “too slow” “watch out for that person” “don’t run into the sides” ” stay to the right!” The whole time I feel out of control as I try to shop, keep the baby entertained and…
Going through customs was always a chore. A long line, tired and disheveled travelers, an unfriendly customs agent. I had been here many times before. I knew the drill. How to spot the faster moving lines, the agents who would be the easiest, the lines with business people – few tourists or children. For years…
The kitchen was filled with laughter, stories and flour. Flour covered our hair, the walls, counters and floors. The girls made little finger tracks in the mess – tracing pictures, words and tiny roads. Each drawing they made was etched into my memory forever. ***** December 11th was my grandma’s birthday. She would have been…
When I get to see both my dad’s the day before Father’s Day. And I get a picture of the oldest member of the family with the youngest. And she let’s him hold her. And she – nor he – doesn’t cry. Not that you are old, Jack. But as you reminded me today –…
(my aunt sandy and my mom) I asked my mom what it is like to have a mother’s day and to not be able to call your mother. Can you still enjoy it as a mom and grandmother, even without your own mom to call? She didn’t really answer me(which perhaps answers my question in…
