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If I’m alive… In twenty years, If I’m still alive I hope to hell I finally graduated from school. Kids have always liked me, not the other way round. This is the last twenty. Fix it. Admit it, I’m sick of kids. I’ll publish the definitive legend of how the Scottish play got its curse
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“Out, out brief candle,” I said. “Shakespeare is so antiquated. They’re taking him out of the schools now. He’s irrelevant,” said Nick. My son was six. “Can you tell a story in a thousand words or less in iambic pentameter? I didn’t think so.” “Just tell me a bedtime story,” he said. “It was a
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Adult Children A nurse in the doctor’s office ran me out of the room when the twins got their vaccinations to start school. They started crying the minute Dr. Brick said, “You know I would never do anything that would hurt without telling you.” They got five shots. Two in one leg, three in the
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When Mom died, I became keeper of the jewelry box. I dole out the contents to the various family members before I die. It’s not the standard little white padded jewelry box with the little gold lock and filigree. It’s the Chrysler Building of all jewelry boxes. Its contents are extraordinary. The most valuable commercial
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Famous Diner I didn’t think Shakespeare would show up for dinner, not the real one anyway. He’d been dead for four hundred and six years. My research for a novel featuring the bard had me making a basic English roast dinner, including a bad Yorkshire pudding. Those things are tricky. When I make them, they
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“It’s jacked up. Nobody consulted me about a standard damned poodle coming into this house. Life was just fine. It’s jacked up as shit,” said Norris. He stomped in a circle and thumped his tail before he could compose himself to continue. He was too damned mad. Norris was without words. “This had better not
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The Last Sunday of Summer Today is the last Sunday of summer. I go back to school tomorrow. A whole new ride starts. I didn’t think about it until yesterday. God, I hate giving up summer. I became a writer this summer. Being a writer gives you permission to stay home and write. In fact,
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All gardens need a boy.
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Soccer Mom “When someone makes a goal, click this button and record the time here and the kid’s number here,” said Linda, the coach. She was pointing to two columns on an Excel Spreadsheet on one of those coach’s clipboards with the secret compartments. “They’re six, Linda, why do we need a spreadsheet?” I think
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Morning Curtain
Snow laden limbs are replaced by blossoms falling to earth and flowers push up from underneath. Early snowdrops and daffodils show off their color peek from recent fresh green. Wet brown earth gives way to the promise of gardens, of deep green shadows and tomatoes Something more than squirrels digging through dried leaves. The smell Read more
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The Road Trip
The road trip was a mindset. It required no preparation or preparation of all things, especially the house before the departure. After I took care of the laundry, the cats, the mess, and the packing, I was ready to roll down the road. Time was not of the essence on a road trip. Stops were Read more
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Let’s Call it Art
“That painting on the wall is askew and is about to fall down on the fragile candy dish on top of the buffet. Between the shards of glass that escape and the bits of sweets that scatter, it will never be safe to go barefoot in the house again. Move the damned painting,” He said. Read more
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Hall Pass
The state took over our school and taught me how to teach the way they wanted me to. They didn’t demand I command a hundred seat auditorium, they were more concerned that I orchestrate three classes in one classroom. They noticed I had leadership skills. They didn’t say whether they were good Read more
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Fashion Emergency
I had on boots, leggings, a sweater dress, and vintage jewelry. The brooch was a stone blue, grey, and weird white that went perfectly with the black of the dress. It had matching clip earrings that were so perfectly cut they glistened in the dark. They were even comfortable to wear. I had lost twenty Read more
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Parable of the Long Spoons
Parable of the long spoons Hell is where the spoons are so long you can’t feed yourself the luscious food on the table. Heaven is where the spoons are the same size as the ones in Hell, but everyone is willing to feed you. I hope there’s a special place in Heaven for those who Read more
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If I’m alive… In twenty years, If I’m still alive I hope to hell I finally graduated from school. Kids have always liked me, not the other way round. This is the last twenty. Fix it. Admit it, I’m sick of kids. I’ll publish the definitive legend of how the Scottish play got its curse
-
“Out, out brief candle,” I said. “Shakespeare is so antiquated. They’re taking him out of the schools now. He’s irrelevant,” said Nick. My son was six. “Can you tell a story in a thousand words or less in iambic pentameter? I didn’t think so.” “Just tell me a bedtime story,” he said. “It was a
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Adult Children A nurse in the doctor’s office ran me out of the room when the twins got their vaccinations to start school. They started crying the minute Dr. Brick said, “You know I would never do anything that would hurt without telling you.” They got five shots. Two in one leg, three in the
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When Mom died, I became keeper of the jewelry box. I dole out the contents to the various family members before I die. It’s not the standard little white padded jewelry box with the little gold lock and filigree. It’s the Chrysler Building of all jewelry boxes. Its contents are extraordinary. The most valuable commercial
-
Famous Diner I didn’t think Shakespeare would show up for dinner, not the real one anyway. He’d been dead for four hundred and six years. My research for a novel featuring the bard had me making a basic English roast dinner, including a bad Yorkshire pudding. Those things are tricky. When I make them, they
-
“It’s jacked up. Nobody consulted me about a standard damned poodle coming into this house. Life was just fine. It’s jacked up as shit,” said Norris. He stomped in a circle and thumped his tail before he could compose himself to continue. He was too damned mad. Norris was without words. “This had better not
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The Last Sunday of Summer Today is the last Sunday of summer. I go back to school tomorrow. A whole new ride starts. I didn’t think about it until yesterday. God, I hate giving up summer. I became a writer this summer. Being a writer gives you permission to stay home and write. In fact,
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All gardens need a boy.
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Soccer Mom “When someone makes a goal, click this button and record the time here and the kid’s number here,” said Linda, the coach. She was pointing to two columns on an Excel Spreadsheet on one of those coach’s clipboards with the secret compartments. “They’re six, Linda, why do we need a spreadsheet?” I think
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The Mystery in the Cook Book
I pulled the book off the shelves that looked most promising for a real recipe for rough puff pastry. The Great British Baking Show offered more inspiration than information, and Wolfgang Puck’s book looked more promising than most on the St. Albans library shelves. The book held that exquisite new book smell to it, and…
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Teachers’ Kids
“Out, out brief candle,” I said. “Shakespeare is so antiquated. They’re taking him out of the schools now. He’s irrelevant,” said Nick. My son was six. “Can you tell a story in a thousand words or less in iambic pentameter? I didn’t think so.” “Just tell me a bedtime story,” he said. “It was a…
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Black Licorice
“Which house shall we hit next, the brick one or that long white one with just the porch light on?” The Bunny Sisters collaborated. Trick or Treat was a serious matter. It had to be done in the most efficient and interesting of ways. Their costumes were fashioned of dresses from the thirties and their…
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An Unlikely Account of Lincoln’s Tophat
Not many people knew of Mercucio Sibedow, haberdasher to the presidency. Mercucio grew up south of the Mason Dixon line. He learned from his daddy how to make hats and ties, leather gloves, fashion mens finishing touches. You’d think that finishing touches were woman’s work, but that would be absolutely not true. In the world…
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How to hide a genius
As a society, we paint the most malformed picture we can grumble about. We tangle our thoughts in knots of despair so tight we can’t move from one group to the next without dire consequences. Once you move, there’s no going back, especially if you’ve moved “down.” Shunning is done with silent delight. Open, honest,…
Devonne Brown 