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Muse: a person or personified force who is the source of inspiration for a creative artist. My thoughts are stagnant. My imagination, stilted. And, I’m quickly falling into the dreaded state of literary malaise. I wonder if I was ever good at the craft of writing, and I’m starting to lose hope that I’ll once again
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Many years ago, when I was in grammar school, fund raisers consisted of sending kids home with order forms for different kinds of flower seeds. My dutiful mother always bought a few packs to save me the embarrassment of turning in blank forms with zero sales. When orders arrived, Mom and I covered the
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Be careful, little ears, what you hear, eyes what you see, and tongue, what you say. Our brains are like sponges, taking it all in. It’s easy to be disheartened by the hate and discontentment all around us. Bad news sells. Or so I’ve always heard. Seems the stories of stellar behavior, excellent character, and
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I was bummed when my daughter, Fawn, and her husband announced they were moving from Louisiana to Texas. Okay, more than bummed. My heart was broken, and I began missing her before she even left. But as months went by, I got used to her being gone. If I really gunned it, I could be
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It was easy to make friends when my kids were little. Gregarious and full of life and energy, they made friends with kids in the neighborhood and, as a collateral benefit, I made friends with their parents. Minimum effort, maximum benefit. Life was good. When my youngest son was sixteen, I rejoined the outside-the-home workforce.
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I have to admit, I was ecstatic when a U-Haul truck backed up the driveway to my next-door neighbor’s house, and they began the process of moving out. I won’t go into detail as to why their leaving brought such joy as I’d already written about it in another blog. It took the neighbors three
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Florida, 1973, Ocala National Forest… Our vehicle had broken down, our funds were exhausted, and we had nowhere to go. My husband Jim and I backpacked down a dirt road surrounded by woods and arrived at Four Lake’s primitive campground. The night was dark and frightening with my overactive imagination conjuring up lions and tigers
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My first introduction to the new next-door neighbor wasn’t the typical, “Hi, how are you, my name is…yada, yada, yada.” There were no pleasantries traded. Not even an exchange of names. But for this story, I’ll call her Ann. It went something like this: I was on my way back from my mailbox when a
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I’m in my sixties, plain and plump, with graying hair that lost its silky luster long ago. Any shred of youthful “cuteness” I ever had seems to have melted away, leaving me in the position of being rather blah and nondescript. I’m okay with aging, except for the “plump” part, but I’m working on that.
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How valuable is all of your STUFF? Many years ago, my husband and I attended a large church that also had small, weekly “home-group” meetings that made it easier to actually get to know others in the congregation. On one particular occasion our group met at the home of a couple with an absolutely gorgeous
Irene Onorato 