No tuna for the cats this week. These are the first of the season and Social Security only stretches so far. Time for homemade strawberry shortcake with real cream. Fifty years ago you kissed Estee Lauder Swiss Strawberry off my lips. When all the kids had measles, you picked tiny wild berries and put them
Something was wrong. Sick of being buttoned-up, jammed-up, grown-up, I tore out in the Little Red Truck, down a wide-open highway, windows down, eating a Twix bar, CD player blaring Waylon and Willie in “Good-hearted Woman.” It wasn’t too long before I met the girl who used to drive barefoot down tree-dappled backroads, sipping the
Last fall, social media buzzed with Elizabeth Gilbert’s talk on creativity. Gilbert, who has led workshops on finding your passion, presented the flipside at Oprah’s event. While she herself has followed her passion all her life, she understands that not everyone is cut out of the same cloth. She divided people into jackhammers—those who doggedly
At the writing retreat in Luray a few weekends ago, participants wanted to know where I got the variety of ephemera I use in writing-related art projects. “My Paper Man,” I said. Since I’ve been collecting–well, anything, I’ve had a source. Bottle Man, Postcard Man, Teddy Bear Woman, Depression Glass Man. Right now the “man”
Yesterday I discovered a new British writer whose work (what I’ve read of it) makes me gasp. Yesterday, our first real spring day with daffodils blooming and birds carrying twigs, we went to Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond, the second most visited cemetery in the nation ( after Arlington). I’ve always loved cemeteries, especially ones with
Last week I read this wonderful book, My Bookstore: Writers Celebrate Their Favorite Places to Browse, Read, and Shop. I lapped up every syllable about 82 independent bookstores, envious that I don’t have a bookstore where everybody knows your name, where books are recommended, where your own books are promoted. The first bookstore I ever
The early stages of working on a novel are like the bright winter sky the day after a snowstorm. Clear, expansive, filled with promise. You and your new project stride hand in hand toward a great working partnership. Then you get busy and soon it’s been months since you and your novel have so much
Every December, when my life unravels due to too many cookies and too little real work, I begin my search for a planner. I have started many planning systems. Teacher planners, DayRunner (remember those?), ARC (Staples system). Last year I began a bullet journal. Bullet journals are wildly popular and I loved the idea of
My new planner set the course last week: work, two trips to the library, three trips to the gym. Time to crack the whip! Get back in the harness! But by Thursday, I was sick of my own dictums. I needed to get away from my desk, my office, my house. The wheels of the
Is it Saturday? Every day the last few weeks has seemed like Saturday. Or a holiday fixing to get ready to happen. In grocery stores, I squint over lists of special food for Christmas Eve, Christmas morning, Christmas day, New Year’s Eve, New Year’s Day breakfast, New Year’s Day. Today when I woke up, I
You are ten in 1962 and it’s coming on Christmas. At W.T. Grant’s you buy a one-inch tall plastic nativity scene for a quarter. It looks like the nativity your mother has only much smaller. You don’t think about the religious connotation. You want to shrink and slip inside the manger scene. At Drug Fair,
Read my face: disgusted. I’ve been living in this house almost a year but if the people here don’t shape up, I’m leaving. First Mama got sick. They say cats love sick people, and it’s true to a point. Nothing better than a warm body in the bed, somebody bringing food. But Mama kept emitting