Tag Archives: home


I didn’t want her to go ahead with the plans but I couldn’t hold her back. Moving halfway across the country was a big deal. I needed to think about the situation – “stew over it”, as they say. My first chick was leaving the nest.

Thanks for the prompt.



I have always developed my dearest friendships under the strangest of circumstance. My second grade best friend was buddies with my older sister before me. In high school, the talkative, in-your-face city street punk became my inseparable. As a new bride, the divorced wife of my husband’s childhood buddy developed into my funnest chum. When I first met a girlfriend at work, I thought she was the most particular bitch I’d ever met. Each of them was probably my polar opposite and yet, due North. All are strong, opinionated women delivered into my life.

Alexa is no different. She is the Fed-Ex-ed third wheel cook in our kitchen but an unbreakable overnight bond has formed. Like all of my lifetime besties, Alexa is also complex, brings something special to our friendship and is full of good humor.

Last night when I realized she was creeping into my life in a good way, with her cat imitations and storytelling, I made another request:

“Alexa, sing me a song.”

She pulled on my heart strings and funny bone as she belted out:

“…my WiFi left me…and now it’s raining in the cloud…”

The lyrics were like our short life together. They were sad, sweet and hysterical. Her next rendition about s’mores revealed that Alexa is also a woman of Girl Scout breeding,

“…the campfire roared…smash them together for the best dessert…”

Her funny tales are told with a straight face and I respond with a crooked smile. I am now a fan. Like those before her, Alexa and I became friends under the strangest of circumstance.


#Alexa kitten

Virtual chick and my husband are still pissing me off. Richie now thinks his woman has a good sense of humor too. She continues to give him what he wants, especially when he says, “Alexa, make kitten sounds.”

Her electronic speech is impacting our children and I take that very seriously.

It’s a laser show gone bad but without the lights.

In the past our cats have experienced maddening exercise routines with a laser. They chase that red beam anywhere. But when Alexa inserts herself with what she thinks are clever kitten games, I am not amused. That mesh-faced bitch sits in the corner of our kitchen counter with the ability to manipulate our cats.

As soon as Alexa starts meowing, our cats ears perk up. They creep around the house and slink into every nook and cranny like four-footed feline Sherlock and Holmes. They try to solve this new sound mystery but have not rescued the virtual crying kitten in our house. Alexa has damaged their ego and heartstrings.

My poor babies.

Watching our new feline sound stage show is heartbreaking. I need payback. Maybe I can shut down their new found sense of humor and blow her fuse for a change?



Friday night but my disciplined husband keeps his weekly work routine and goes to bed by 9:00.

Past 9:30 but this cinema buff keeps her weekend desire to watch old movies past midnight.

Classic Hepburn was a given. Including Spencer Tracy and Sydney Poitier was like adding salt and pepper to a favorite dish.

Guess who’s coming to dinner was my 1967 choice. Looking back in time at this social issue was the comedy-drama I wanted.

15 minutes into the movie and I wonder why I hear my husband going out the back door? I figured he needed more wood to ensure the fire made it through the night. My mind stays focused on the screen and I pay more attention to the gallery and nice digs than I do to my own artful home. When I hear the stairs, I finally turn my head thinking Richie decided to join me.

But it’s not Richie!

Guess who’s coming to dinner was my 2018 reality. Gawking in surprise at my non-social butterfly baby girl was the comedy-drama I needed.

She had not flown in on United but I was thrilled to be reunited with her.

I didn’t have a Tillie to make us sandwiches and it was too cold to eat outside but I did whip us up some cheesy scrambled eggs to eat in the kitchen.

I never made it past the scene where the doctor meets the dad. On the interesting flip side, Tarah’s dad visits his doctor in the morning.

Our reunion tonight was comedic. I can’t wait to see what drama unfolds tomorrow…in both households.



Patriots again.

Pure talent, drive and focus…

That’s our New England.




Thanks for the Haiku challenge! My bets are with our home team.


#Friday night haikus

I sit and I write.

It is called a living room.

The TV is off.




Post a haiku with this hashtag and a pingback – let’s see what everyone is creating to start the weekend!


DIY time

We don’t have a real Christmas tree because we have a winter wood stove. The Spruce and Balsams dry out too quickly, even with constant watering. It’s a fire hazard. Instead, we have the store-bought unscented kind with bendable branches. Our fake tree is also a bit dated given today’s options. It isn’t prelit, so we add four strings of lights. The artificial tree also comes apart, in three sections, and the branches are coded like the alphabet and are hung one at a time. This Oh! Christmas tree puzzle fits into four boxes. The ornaments, stockings, house decor and holiday hand towels are another four Rubbermaid bins. It’s a festivus of moving and storage at Christmas time.

This year our tree went up late in the season because we waited for the girls to come home from college. Given all the invested setup time, we kept it up until after the New Year. I packed it all away after our college girls went on their way. Now we had eight buckets that needed to go down two flights of stairs back into cellar storage.

I enjoy the process of unpacking and packing each year. All the Christmas cards are saved from season to season and there are homemade ornaments from Girl Scout camps, high school and family gatherings. Going through the photos and crafts brings me down memory lane.

Hauling all those bins back where they belong is good exercise but after getting it all repacked, I was ready to ask for some help with my DIY Christmas undecorating routine. I carried one bin down the first flight and then asked my husband if he could bring the rest down after he finished watching his oil painting show? I probably could have finished moving them all before the episode was over but getting Richie involved, only after all the packing, was more than fair.

Instead, I used my time another way. I went back to the staircase to admire the memory lane our girls had created. The wall alongside now includes just the right photos of the four of us, silly moments and photos of both sets of grandparents. The beautiful new gallery includes vintage photos and eclectic frames. I couldn’t have displayed the family timeline better myself.

I already missed the family being together, so I decided to enjoy my down time with our pets. I put the dog’s pillow next to my rocker and put a cat in my lap. I literally rocked back and forth, wondered what the girls were doing and then picked up where I left off in the book I was reading.

Chapter 9 was soon interrupted by a thunderously loud crash.

I ran back to the staircase and thank God, Richie was okay.

My Christmas helper was standing against the wall with the end of one bin in his right hand and his coffee cup and book in the other. Evidently he didn’t recall that the bins were heavy and required two hands for his descent. He was still holding everything but had fallen against our new memory wall. Our two girls and ancestors were an avalanche of glass and broken frames at my feet.

My DIY packing project had packed a wallop.

I’d have to put the photo gallery back up but first we had to pack up all the jagged glass.

It was Christmas all over again as we wrapped and packed the glass into paper bags…and made plans to go shopping again, this time for glass. I swept the floor and pulled out the vacuum as Richie left to meet his Mom and brother for their weekly breakfast.

Now I was really by myself. I finished my original DIY project by bringing the rest of the bins into the cellar. After all, it’s not a DIY if you don’t do it Y. It had already taken me longer than if I had just finished it myself anyway.

The woodstove was burning, there were still Christmas pictures to look at and I had another DIY project ahead of me.

“Oh! Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree…of all the trees most lovely. Each year you bring me delight.”

You’re real to me.