I’m always a little overzealous with the Spackle. The less is more philosophy sort of goes out the window and I find myself not only covering up unsightly cracks or holes, but trying to get the wall back to it’s original state. My enthusiastic efforts usually create patches. I overdo it and then I have…
I am a stitch, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I saw the Gebelein Man (Ginger) at the British Museum today. I’ve seen him before, but this time my thoughts are lingering. He was a young man, wounded in the shoulder, and buried in a shallow grave. The hot sand mummified him over…
When Maggie was younger, she played with snails in our backyard. She would dig through the dirt, make them little leaf houses, talk to them, and then beg me to let her bring them in her room. This went on for a while and then one day her brother and sister got involved. They grabbed a…
According to my quick Google search, approximately 2.5 million people die every year in the United States. I don’t often look at this stuff, but I’m on this “things will never be the same as they are in this second” kick and that sometimes moves me to think about the end. A bit morbid, I know,…
We have a well at our house. We get our water from the ground. For those of you that I have lost already, don’t think Laura Ingalls gathering with a bucket type of well. Think big electric box thing and a huge tank that fills with water. That water is then pumped into our…
I’ll vote today, but I’m not sure why. I no longer believe my one vote can make a difference. When I’m in my dark place, I’m not sure any of our votes make a difference. My daughter is 21. She’s gung ho, super excited about the election, and her vote. We raised her that way,…
There’s Wait and then there’s Stay. According to Jack’s trainer, these two commands are very different. Wait means, “Hang on a minute and then I will ask you to come to me. There’s a sense of anxiety with wait, an anticipation.” Stay means, “Stay where you are and when I’m ready, I will come for you.…
I learned to ride a bike when I was eleven. We lived in Bronxville, New York. Santa brought me a burgundy Ross bike for Christmas. My first real bike, and while I was excited about the idea of being a bike rider, the actual process eluded me. I would sit and stare at my bike while thoughts of…
The faces of 9/11 look older now. The actual photographs, hair styles, clothing, are aging. America has moved on and it’s been so long since that horrific day that the people we lost are starting to look different. I remember the first time I went through the memorial of the victims, on the first anniversary, they…