The house on Elkelton

Whether I’ve wanted to or not, I’ve hung on to certain numbers of significance in my life. They roll off my tongue when I’m playing the memory one-upmanship game with someone: 4023, the phone number assigned to our family on the Navy base in Rota, Spain; 1056, the address of the house on Navarra Lane;…

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2012: A year in photos

Twenty-twelve was a blue ribbon year for me and for many of the people I care about.  Milestone birthdays and graduations abounded. There were planned trips to familiar places, and an unexpected vacation to somewhere new.  Day trips were enjoyed out and about the city we’ve called home since 1968 and tend to take for…

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The Effect of Stones and Moss on Life

There may be an interesting change on my horizon, and as I mulled over the possibility of it while sipping my coffee this morning, I felt the urge to sift back through my writing here — all two years of it.  I’ve laughed aloud, winced, and cried all in the span of an hour, wallowing…

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Food Stamp Soap Box

It’s been nearly two weeks since the Inauguration of Barack Obama, and I’ve listened.  I’ve listened and I’ve watched, and I’ve held my tongue, at times turning off the television or changing the station when the talking heads begin their endless hair-splitting.  It’s not because I’m a total Pollyanna, but more that I’d like just…

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Fifty Years, Love and Memories

Today is my mother and father-in-law’s 50th wedding anniversary.  Fifty years is a very long time.  I should know because that’s how long my very own bones have been on this planet learning to walk, and run, falling down, then starting again.  Relentlessly. Fifty years. A marriage lasting fifty years is more something to read…

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Being Thirteen

I was ugly when I was thirteen.  I don’t remember if I thought so then, but sorting through old photos proves it:  I went from innocent beauty to zit-ridden adolescent in three short years.  Add chubby to that as well, and the image is complete.    It was no wonder that Peter McClueless didn’t know I…

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