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Happy Anniversary
Of course there was glitter. Read more
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La Bouquet
It looked like somebody made wedding bouquets and needed my blue and white bloomers. Read more
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National Registry
The sound started there Read more
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The Fatigue
Doesn’t my interpretation of the painting count? Isn’t it supposed to be a hanging Rorshact test? Read more
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Still the Same
I ran away from home a couple of times. Once after college I went to Texas for no good reason. The last time with a man to England, half an hour from Stonehenge. We had to get married. I was pregnant. I won’t do that again. I came back. I am the same person I… Read more
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The Invitation
Mania is an expensive disease of unspeakable joy. I missed a day of school and missed professional development trauma training with personal trauma self-care/ My world rocked. I took a sick day, ended up taking two without a fever. Sickness doesn’t always come with high temperatures, sometimes it looks like notions and I took one…
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In the Time of the Sonnets…progress report:
On the basic plot diagram, I’m midway on the rising action, maybe not in order. I’m happy with the lot I’ve written and marked completed. Spoiler alert, I wrote the climax already. I couldn’t help myself, it had to be done before I could write another word or make a cup of coffee. I’m juggling…
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My Wedding Dress
I bought the perfect shoes to wear to my niece’s wedding. They were black leather with an inch and a half kitten heel. Just above the heel was a gold plate that made me glisten when I walked. But I didn’t have a dress, so I made one. I haven’t done any real sewing, not…
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In the Time of the Sonnets
I’ve been writing a novel with the working title, “In the Time of the Sonnets.” Without giving anything away at all, it’s got Shakespeare, giants, messengers, and kings in it. Of course there will be a witch here or there, but that’s beside the point. I’m heavy into the rising action and I’m already surprised…
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Van Gogh Epiphany
When you start reading to your kids, you do it because you want them to learn to read. Then this happens. My first born read a passage from a book about Vincent Van Gogh having a “cafe moment,” when Van Gogh’s experience, memory, talent, time, and place all converged into one glorious period of creativity…

