Tag Archives: home


I love how he loves the things that he loves.




Photo credit: Tarah Crowe


Does the shadow know?

Last night I dreamt in shadows. What does that mean?

I usually dream in beautiful technicolor.

I am the happiest I’ve ever been.

I was in my own bed, with my husband and the pets nearby.

It was a clear, calm night.

I had plenty of exercise yesterday.

I am at peace with my God.

My children are safe.

The people in our world have had no (new) health issues.

I am not a black-and-white photographer.

I am in fairly good condition, at least according to the BM index.

Where did the colors go? Last night I lived in a period of early film and the beginning of the Wizard of Oz.


Pinterest photo 

I am my blog

My life’s motto is the same as my blood type:

be positive.

My fashion statement is the same as my home decor:


My persona is the same as my perspective about the future:


 There are so many good things in every day life. Relax, put your feet up and read.

Welcome to my blog!

Conference call

Despite being the only two people left in our household, my husband and I still tend to have three and four-way conversations. And nobody is on the phone. 

Richie went out to breakfast with his Mom yesterday and when he pulled into the driveway, I let our dog, Otis, know “Daddy’s home!” My husband talked with us for a minute on the deck and then went into the house to get another cushion (it rained the night before, so we bring them in). I heard my husband’s next conversation through the kitchen window screen. He was also confirming to “The Dude” that he was back. 

Other days we might acknowledge that we didn’t hear or understand what was said:

 “What? I didn’t catch that.” 

“I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to Kapper.”

Are the additional conversations no different than talking to houseplants? Maybe we’ve always talked to the pets but are only now paying attention to one another? Either way, I wonder if this post will get us more conversations with household visitors – or less?                     


Gone but not forgotten

Our daughter has been in Philadelphia for several weeks. I miss her terribly just knowing she’s further away than usual. When I opened the refrigerator this morning, I saw her face. Maple syrup from the restaurant she likes. Dunkers that she  usually buys at Trader Joe’s for her dad. The bottle of Coke I had to buy yesterday because it showcased her name. Tomorrow I’ll buy some cream cheese and have a loaded steak and whiz sub for lunch. Somehow the visuals and city references bring her closer to home. It’s been a Rocky road for me. Ah, yes, that too will shorten the distance. A mom has to do what a mom has to do.


It’s the middle of the night in New England but I am at the Daytona 500. My menopausal self awakens and discovers my body in our overheated bed. It’s no longer warm from our laps around the track. Instead I am flush red, and there’s a pit crew in my head, taking the blankets on and off as fast as they can. The flurry of activity finally helps me cool down and get back on track to sleep. 

I am dreaming of the finish line although there are hundreds of laps ahead.  I want this race to end, so I can earn the trophy back. 


The calendar has turned like a tumbleweed, approaching with the help of nature and time. We all saw it coming but weren’t concerned until it was right in front of us. One more breeze flipped us into December. We’ve arrived at that wonderful time of year that brings friends, family, charity, shopping, food, spiritual celebrations and … radio Christmas carols playing 24×7.

Here in New England we are grateful the snow has held off and that our heaviest coats are still in the back of the closet. We are happy to be out-and-about in our 45 degree weather in a sweatshirt. We are greeted by a ringing bell, so we can put our loose change in the hanging red metal pot. We meet family at holiday craft fairs, turkey suppahs and the mall. If we are “Lucky” enough, we go see our men in green at the Gaahden. We finish getting the leaves off the lawn, bring in the wood and start making our lists. What we are not doing is firing up the snow blower, chiseling ice from our windshields or leaving home an hour earlier to get to work on time. 

While there’s no snow, Christ’s birth is upon us, so I don’t mind that Christmas carols started playing the day after Thanksgiving. What does burn my ass is that the local radio stations include all the songs about snow. Don’t put a “let it snow, let it snow, let it snow” melody in my head if I’m hoping it holds off for another few weeks. It’s lovely weather but not for a sleigh ride together. Frosty would be exactly not that. In fact, he would not be jolly or a happy old soul either. He would be dead. These almost Indian summers would kill his round ass. 

The rest of the country is either embracing the next few weeks with the grace of God upon them or freaking out about shopping but it is not “beginning to look a lot like Christmas”. 

The local DJ’s need to know we want the carols without reference to the snow. We know it’s December but ease us into the month and our hibernation. Here in New England we enjoy your happy tunes but please don’t add the snowflakes. We are out with the shoppers, church goers and neighbors. It’s only when the snow falls that we want to be “home for the holidays”.

Roasting chestnuts on that open fire.

Tumbling into the future.

Enjoying every song on the radio.