That Tendency To Ignore Blatantly Unpleasant Facts

Like a junkie with a 14-gauge needle, my mother used books to blot out reality. Curled up in her chair, immersed in a novel, she ceased to be aware of anyone or anything around her. When she put her book down, exposed herself to the rage and tension that contaminated...

For The Birds

A blast from the past. Being an introvert, I need a lot of time to myself.  I spend most mornings happily surrounded by a pack of dogs and the quiet. I read, think, and write. Even with Walt present, I can be alone.  He has similar rhythms. We can lose entire days to...

Driving Miss Daisy

I’m learning to drive all over again in Ireland.  This doesn’t sound like a big deal, I know, but it feels death defying.  Most of the time, I pretty much want to scream and cry, or blame my misery on horrible Walt. Smug Walt. Gasp-y Walt. The Irish, for whatever...

On The Lighter Side

A post I wrote 7 years ago. When I was eleven, my mother signed me up for a weight loss class.  Having battled the bulge for years on end, she was alarmed when, at that awkward age, I, too, started piling on the pounds. So, every week we drove out to the local...