The empty chair at our kitchen table for four screams at me now as I set places for a weekend meal. My eldest son has officially settled nearly eight hours south in a dorm room with a mini-fridge and Keurig. The percolator perks. The bacon snaps in grease. The Italian tomato sauce he helped make… Continue reading Love foody style
I remember the first real dress I felt pretty in as a tween. I was 11 or 12 perhaps. It was red, my favorite color, with white polka dots and a pretty petite bow at the breast. It had one-inch straps that showed off my freckled shoulders. The same silky ribbon was sewn at the… Continue reading Hot chocolate, Cher, and polka dots
Image Source: Everett Collection “Knowing that we can be loved exactly as we are gives us all the best opportunity for growing into the healthiest of people.” – Fred Rogers When my newly minted eighteen-year-old son suggested we go see the Mister Rogers documentary “Won’t You Be My Neighbor” I was startled. While I had watched… Continue reading Remembering kindness
The air was dry and crisp and the cloud that escaped my mouth looked like the ones exhaled by the big boys when they smoked their Marlboros and threw free throws at the naked ring drilled into the neighbors utility pole. It was dark now well before 8 pm. Many homes had turned their lights… Continue reading The Party
