There was once a day when we knew the model and make of every car on the road. Including this iconic finned Cadillac Coup de Ville that we spied while out on errands a few days ago. Is it a 1960? The fins are a clue that it could be. More than 50 years old--whoa! My husband always compares these . . .
When we think of pilgrimages we think of white-robed faithful walking a spiritual journey. They leave their destination expecting to encounter hardships along the way and, while seeing new things, develop new eyes. New ways of seeing. Their aim is to be changed at journey's end, to be changed . . .
We think we're brave? No. Here's brave: A mother with babe in arms getting on a boat in Sicily--or Ireland--or any other country-- in some form of steerage under horrific, unsanitary conditions and coming alone to a strange land where she didn't even know the language. That's BRAVE. And this is . . .
Snow. That scene's idyllic, isn't it? The snow looks so soft and fluffy. But when you've had so much of it, the charm dissipates a bit. That's what my sister-from-another-mother in New Jersey tells me. And if I really try, I can remember my upbringing in the Snow Belt city of Rochester, NY and . . .
If you're a fan of Project Runway, you know those words. Mood Fabrics co-stars as the place where competing designers find the fabrics and notions that make their designs come to life. Fashion teacher extraordinaire, Tim Gunn, leads the "Thank you!" and designers would chime in as they all rushed . . .
The glass window panes in Atlanta were ice-cold to the touch--actually-- frost-cold. You can just make out frost against the panes in the photograph. The wind chill was 10 degrees below zero earlier this week and my friend B. and I shivered as we climbed the exterior stairs to her warm and cozy . . .
From the looks of things around this website and blog, you'd think I was still in India. No, we're home. And we're back to our regularly scheduled programming here on the blog. A little snarky, a little inspirational, a little naughty. We missed nearly all of November, so we really got to enjoy . . .
Do you ever look at old family pictures and wonder at the innocence they portray? How we knew nothing of the life that was to unfold? How each decision we made took us in one direction or another, and that direction completely changed what might have been another outcome? Do you look into your own . . .
Summer has worn out its welcome early, I think. Maybe it's the vagaries attributed to climate change, or maybe, after so many years in Florida, I've lost all interest in heat. If I ever had any. But the moderating overcast last Saturday afternoon at Half Moon Bay reminded me that my favorite . . .
I saw Jersey Boys the first time in San Francisco. There on a writing retreat, alone, I walked up one evening and got last minute tickets relinquished by family/friends. There's really no current theatre that so reflects Boomer history than the story of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, and no . . .
