This battered and worn Revere Ware copper bottomed percolator sat on my mother's stovetop for as long as I can remember. Now, it looks vintage and it IS vintage. As is the sound of coffee perking. How many of you remember this distinctive Maxwell House TV ad from the 1950s? That little perking . . .
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Before dawn 21 years ago today the call came that my mother had died. It was not a surprise; she'd been sick for the better part of a year. I left home in 1972. It was my mother's fondest wish that I return, but I had a career and had built a life--several, really--and to be honest, as Bob Dylan . . .
Is stay-at-home hard for you? I hear you. Scrolling through my photos from earlier in the year made me miss the time when I was out and about with friends, having fun and even traveling. But now, protecting ourselves and others means we'll have to stay at home a while longer. I know it feels like . . .
So many friends and social media friends are working really hard to heal. They inspire me. So many brave warriors doing everything they can to support their own healing and recovery. I wonder if I'd rise to the occasion as they have. Do people you know inspire you with their determination to get . . .
When we let people into the sacred space of our lives, they must deserve to be there. And want to be there. They must give you a place in their lives. And--this is key--THEY must think YOU are too important to lose. Bottom line: They must be additive to our lives. Whether they are a family . . .
Today I'm giving thanks for the many blessings in my life. And for all of you, who keep me company here. May this day be one of joy and thanksgiving for you and yours. . . .
Each of us goes through challenging periods in our lives, times of struggle and pain. If we're lucky, we count one or two trusted comrades among our friends. Folks who are able to see us and hear us --because the truth is that we all need to be seen and heard, especially in times of trouble. And in . . .
I'd love to jump into this car and take a spin back to the past, when life seemed less complicated. Was it better? Maybe not.I just know it was less complicated. Coping wasn't such a chore. Today our group of blogging Baby Boomers remind us all that life goes on no matter what else is happening in . . .
If you're looking for a holiday gift that won't break the bank but is absolutely gorgeous and unique, look no further than one of our beautiful soy wax candles in yummy scents or no scent at all. If holiday decor isn't your thing, we also offer our pretty floral and crystal designs. I promise . . .
There's a lot of willful ignorance out there. I say "willful" because sometime I sit in disbelief of how people I thought were discerning can hold such dissonant views. When Christianity isn't This one is a big hot button for me because Christ was very, very clear about his expectations of his . . .
One of my friends lives in a state of constant regret. Shoulda, coulda, woulda. I can see how it happened: Traumatized at an early age by a dominant, unreasonable and abusive father, this sensitive soul built protective walls. The walls weren't strong enough and didn't keep them safe. But what . . .
When the veil that obscures our vision is removed, the perfect clarity that results is a beautiful thing. Oh, it may not be the most comfortable thing, but it clears the path for us to move forward. The bumps and bruises that are a normal part of life chip away at the veil obscuring our vision, . . .
The Mexican Day of the Dead is actually several days, during which loved ones who have transitioned are honored with altars, offerings and visits to the cemetery. During these days, the spirits of the dead are invited to come for a visit. The holiday falls within my own biggest season of loss: my . . .
Walking down the hall in my temporary hotel quarters in my hometown, a discarded star on the carpet caught the light and my attention. It's been there for at least several weeks, resisting suitcase wheels, footfalls, vacuuming. Every day I'd notice it as I went to my rooms. As I write, it's still . . .
The audio in my car is always on, and on LOUD. I've been dancing (and car-dancing) my way through my time in my hometown, preparing for closing on our new second home (which already should have occurred as you read this). "Of course you are!" you might say. "You've got a loving husband, two . . .
This is for Michael, Gregory, Bonnie, Michele, Scott, bestie Lee, Maui girls Susan and Alice, Cheri, Joanne, MaryLou and for my beloved Marilyn, who is now on the other side but still always present. I live a life of the mind and the heart. It is not for everyone. Sometimes it's a challenge even . . .
“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” Every writer I know loves this quote from writer Annie LaMott. We do own our experiences and we absolutely write about them, at least in my genre, which is . . .
What kind of world do we want to leave our children and grandchildren? And how do we communicate our values to them? What are we teaching our children when there are people in our (and their) sphere that do not reflect our values? Values. They're the crux of today's politics. I wonder how so . . .
When someone I care about has lost a loved one I want to honor them with a thoughtful and unique sympathy gift. Something more than flowers or a charitable donation. A condolence gift that is loving and helpful. An appropriate sympathy gift. But what really helps? Grief is a walk we must take . . .