Tag Archives: holiday

Rise and Shine


Caught our Easter by surprise.

Doctor on the hunt…



Out from the starting point and forward, today is an imperative language designed by Him, that allows us to go onward in time.


Relaxation Response

The house was quiet as we settled into the start of summer on Memorial Day weekend.  My daughter was lifeguarding at the town pool and my husband was perusing a new novel on the deck.  Both were spending their time in a thoughtful and careful way.  I decided to do the same.

My guardianship wasn’t in need and my next book had yet to be started.  So, I watched out for myself and opened a new bottle of polish instead.  I decided to paint my naked toes a bold shade of red. The color matched my  sandals and I looked forward to looking like a put together grown up.

I finished one foot and reached for more color.  My hand hit the bottle, just like a fugitive Harrison Ford hit the stream.  As Tommy Lee Jones would have said, “the nail polish did a Peter-Pan right off the dam(n table)!”

All I could do was watch a spray of fiercely fabulous red hit my kitchen floor.  I fiercely tried to stop the tumbling bottle before it covered my fabulous laminate. It rolled under a chair and the pets quickly backed away.  They ran from the poison – my venomous response,  not the scarlet contents.

I wiped the liquid with a dry towel but ultimately needed nail polish remover to clean up the red mess.  My spa time resorted to a household chore laquered with frustration. I don’t have a coordinated pedicure but I do have a stripped floor to memoralize the event.

Thanks…giving -Part I

It’s the first time we’re not with our two girls on Thanksgiving, since the year before Tarah was born. That’s 20 years of tradition that now has to be different. People say embracing change is a good thing. As the day unfolds, I’ll be the judge of that.

It started yesterday when I was thrilled to be working from home, so I could be there when my youngest arrived from campus. She stayed long enough to unpack the car, drop-off her laundry – and leave to meet friends for dinner. Typical. It’s happened before. They’ve been away from home long enough for me to know their world revolves around more than me.

I still didn’t have a commute, what’s-his-name and I had a nice dinner together and we’d paid the electric bill – so we were also able to leave the outside lights on. Evidently, Tarah had a long dinner with friends because of the holiday.

I can sleep before they get home nowadays but I still wake up in the early hours to check on them in their rooms. She was safe in her bed and clearly exhausted. She’d been too tired to even flick the outside lights to ‘off’.

It’s now 7:30 a.m. and I’m wondering if it was passive aggressive of me to pick this hour of the day to unload the dishwasher? Is my husband reacting the same way as he finishes baking for the day – with his Android playing The Doors? Either way, it’s got to be less disturbing than the dorms, right?

As the day only starts to unfold, I wonder if she’s in her room questioning the day she was born?  I’m going to ponder that as I change out of my pajamas and fold some laundry.

Stay tuned for future “Parts” of our day…



No flowers – just card

What needs be said on Valentine’s Day?

That on others does lesser weigh?

Are feelings then more than, say

Those encountered every day?


Does one days’ contrivance thus

Count moreso than the daily us?

Not all pomp and circumstance

But daily laughter, smirks, perchance?


Do the thoughts held tight like glue

Need yearly boots, from me or you?

Must every thought or word be said?

Or can actions, deeds yet be read?


As age draws on, the youthful view

Of what once was, cannot now be true

As feelings age, mature, bear fruit

While springing from that strong, deep root


Not every word thus needs be said

When entwined minds can be easily read

Or thoughts be seen ere if unspoken

To be held aloft by some cheap token


Perfection said to be beholden

In eyes of deep reflection

Whole paths trod have changed direction

It does not change a life lived golden

A hand-written Valentine from my husband –

that he gave me I don’t even know how many years ago.

I still read it every year – – –


Copyright Richard A. Crowe, 2015