As a child, I possessed a food-o-graphic memory.
food-o-graphic memory
/fo͞od ōˌgrafik ˈmem(ə)rē/
noun
The ability to remember the contents of your kitchen cabinets and refrigerator in explicit detail. Continue reading
As a child, I possessed a food-o-graphic memory.
food-o-graphic memory
/fo͞od ōˌgrafik ˈmem(ə)rē/
noun
The ability to remember the contents of your kitchen cabinets and refrigerator in explicit detail. Continue reading →
“What are you looking at you, green-eyed heifer, you?”
That’s what my father asked me. He’d said similar things to my sisters but swapped green-eyed for blue-eyed, brown-eyed or the all-encompassing big-eyed heifer.
He conveyed those words with such loving affection that my sisters and I didn’t realize, until way too late in life, that he was actually calling us cows. Continue reading →
(Editor’s note: The original version of this post was published in error. I am extremely sorry if you read that incoherent rough draft or received this post in duplicate. You can read my explanation in “My Apologies for Errant Blog Post.”)
I established myself as a bit of risk taker early in life. At age three, I stood in my new swim teacher’s back yard gazing at his pool. I could barely control my excitement about my first swimming lesson.
As soon as we completed introductions, I pointed at the diving board and declared, “I want to jump off that.” Continue reading →
Knock, knock.
Who’s there?
Drug addict.
Drug addict, who?
My cell phone rang. Jennifer’s name popped up. A best friend since age two, she was among the small guest list for my birthday dinner.
I was late. She was always prompt.
I hesitated to answer but relented on the third ring.
Continue reading →
Yep! I just made up that word, a cross between sweet and weakness. Indulge me.
I’m not really a sweet-tooth person. I prefer savory foods any day. That said, I do have a handful of “sweaknesses.” One rears it’s ugly head every March thanks to those darn Girl Scout cookies.
Continue reading →
Cooties, schmooties. From birth, I thought boys were fantastic!
To my four-year-old girl friends who thought otherwise…well, I don’t understand your reluctance. Boys were awesome! (Unless you were gay. Then I completely understand, though I didn’t at the time.)
Peter was my first boyfriend. It was a pre-school kind of infatuation – the kind most would quickly dismiss. But not I.
He was the Goldar to my Silvar (a bad but popular 1970s’ reference to Space Giants).
Ok. True confessions time. My motivation for creating this blog comes from the fact that I can be a slacker (not to be confused with being lazy, which I’m not…most days).
But I am undisciplined, sometimes, even about things that I profess to love. In this case, writing.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to “be a writer.” That began in 1st grade with my first, simple, published work, “All about Spring.”