Monthly Archives: February 2015

I’ve discovered the cure for incipient OCD

I honestly believe any one of these will work, but in combination, they’re incredibly powerful. At least in my case . . . 1) An enormous old house; 2) A “few” boxes that have been in various storage units since … Continue reading

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The Midgets’ Ballroom

When my mom was in college, she received a monthly package from home, consisting of a pound of caramels and a box of Kleenex. I sent my daughter and her beau a package earlier this week. They’ve both been working like fiends and … Continue reading

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Today, I’m talking to the pie pans

Baker’s Square is silent, but Harris Teeter never shuts up.

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Am I the only one who will admit talking to the food in the refrigerator?

I’ve found cottage cheese to be the best listener.

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I’ve been saving two fortune cookies. I ate the first one and read the fortune. “Take the next big step.” I threw the slip of paper in the trash, went upstairs, turned around and went back down to fish it out. … Continue reading

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A million and four pieces

“Mom, don’t hug me. I smell like french fry grease.”

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It’s a funny name and its origins are uncertain. One source suggests it means “land of many fishes.” It’s become my home again after 40 years away. I’ll attest; it’s filled with stories.

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I live in Dowagiac, where stir-fry is “Chinese Food”

Why am I here?

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In a million pieces

A young woman just called. She’s been sleeping on friends’ couches. I said, “Come. I have beds.” A friend plowed my drive earlier today. I said I’d mail a him a check. “If you want, ” he said.

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Sense of place

I live in a grand, historic house, replete with stories. I’m finding my own, here, finally.

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