Sudden Angels Part 7: Rod Stewart

A story precedes every child. Some are happy. Some, horrific. Our daughter's first chapter was written in desperation. By four adults. On both sides of the ocean. After Cliff and I settled in Wisconsin, becoming parents was the hardest challenge we ever faced. In and out of medical offices for years, we were finally referred…

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The Brownie Batter Test

You have no idea what you'll learn during the first year of marriage. When I made a batch of chocolate chip cookies, Cliff commented, "The recipe says four dozen. That's not what you got." "I eat a lot of dough," I replied nonchalantly. When he made a cake, I noted, "It didn't rise much." He…

2017 in Review

August marked our second year in Milan, Ohio. To borrow one of my mother's chipper expressions, we are "right as rain" in this curious place. Cliff has become a gentleman farmer, planting tomatoes, asparagus, strawberries, and squash. (Read my post Ohio Gothic for clarification and pertinent picture.) He scouted for a volunteer opportunity and chose…

The Tree Thing

Because Christmas has a lot of moving parts, I begin holiday hamster wheeling in October. Where to set the tree? Same room in the corner? A different room? Color theme for the paper and ribbons? Depends on where I place the tree, of course. Cookie assortment? What goes in the new front porch flower pots?…

Part 7: High School Twice

When I published Part 6, I thought I was finished. Honest-to-goodness, I did. However, a guest blogger from the twelve student reflections insisted I had more to say. She believed readers would wonder how I ever went on, after experiencing such verbal and emotional pummeling. I saw her point. For months, I've written and deleted.…

Ohio Gothic

You just never know. When Cliff and I got married, we were school teachers in Tulsa.  However, we'd both planned on other careers: technical theater for me and pre-law for Cliff. If we'd stayed on those tracks, chances are we'd never have met. But we did. It was a blind date I agreed to so…

Fenceless

I understand the purpose of a fence for holding things in--wayward dogs, wandering toddlers, windblown lawn chairs. But a fence raises questions; unbordered space offers answers. Our block contains five open back yards without a picket or chain link. All summer long this unfettered rectangle has bloomed and buzzed, unconcerned with crabgrass or heat. Owners…