Category Archives: Memories
Buy Me Flowers
Lest you think that my fashion-plateness (platedom, platability?) is a recent avocation, let me present to you little Nancy – Easter Sunday, 1958: Not only do I have a stylish pink dress with matching coat, I have a new Easter bonnet, white gloves, patent leather shoes with matching purse, and a corsage. (And Daddy’s face.) …
The Family Album
Last year, I wrote that I am among the most patient people in the world. (Just You Wait) I love traffic jams and long lines at the grocery store. For me, waiting is permission to be lazy. The plane is late? Great. I have an excuse to do nothing. It’s not my fault. But I …
When Nineteen Was Far Away
I’m sixty-two today. It’s true what they say about time passing more quickly as you get older. The last twenty years especially are like a book that I just skimmed through. I wish I had read every line more carefully. I may had missed some hidden meaning in my race to the next chapter. There …
It Lingers Still
Ah, Christmas is so wonderful. You just want it to go on and on. And it does. Picking up after Christmas can take you right into February. Four years ago, I convinced my husband that we should buy an artificial pre-lit tree. He loves real trees. He was not enthused. But I convinced him that …
I Love It Now
Sometimes we make up our mind early about stuff – and those opinions stick with us forever. Some of the things I loved as I kid I still love: – Clothes so soft they make you hug yourself. – Warm beach sand squishing through your toes. – Tuna sandwiches with a side of potato chips. …
Teachers
If you’ve read my blog even once, you probably know that I am never serious. I excel at silly, and so I’ve stuck to it. But I cannot – as much as I’d love to – pretend that what happened here in Connecticut last week did not happen. The whole country is heartbroken, including silly …
Dimples
Last night’s waitress brought back a memory from over 50 years ago. She had a wondrous set. Of Dimples. I was around ten years old when it finally dawned on me that I might not actually be the most beautiful child that had ever appeared on the planet. I had an inkling of that reality …
Halloween Guilt: How I Scared The Crap Out Of An Eight-Year-Old
It was unintentional. But I should have known better. It was the Fall of 1974. I was a senior in college and doing my student teaching in Puerto Rico. (Yeah, yeah. You’re doing the math and figuring out that I was 23. So I took a few extra years in college. So what? I liked …
notquiteold 