Thoughts

The yin and yang of writing

And that, perhaps, is the purpose of memoirs. Really, who gives three flying pigs about my life? Much more interesting tales have and will be told. But at the same time, the writer in me wishes to connect with her readers and render that commonality we share. You know, ring a bell, strike a chord, hit a nerve.

A day with Mother

While I’d love to be her perfect child, my imperfections lead me down the road that erases Mother’s perfection from my memory. Understand I’m not her worse child. Others far exceed my lack of respect, but if I was one of her finest, I’d always practice what I preach.

Searching for the “real” me

My first discovery authenticated a sanity-survival technique self-taught during the early days of parenting—shut off what I don’t want to hear. That includes squawking voices. This lingering skill undermined my scientific study, however. Every time the commercial runs aired, my inside ears shut it off and I went about the business of chopping carrots, chatting with spouse, visiting the bathroom, or checking Facebook updates

Whose America Do We Take Back?

 Route 66 traverses my American life.  My father bought a canvas radiator water bag for the blue and white 1955 Chevy wagon. We packed fried chicken, buttered white bread, hard-boiled eggs and Oreo cookies in a basket, and left California behind to see the USA in our Chevrolet eastbound on Route 66. When school returned each September, the iconic “What I did Last Summer” essays by classmates told tales about live lions, snake pits, dancing Indians, and buffalo burgers all experienced along the []

Chocolate? Shoes? Should Have Hobbled Toward Chocolate

I love shoes about as much as I love chocolate.  Ever since ever the hunt for the darling shoe in the perfect color that coordinates with my outfit de’jour rates high in my top ten agenda.   Once my peds took heel, this soleful passion kicked off when my grandmother said, “You need red tennis shoes for your new jeans and red shirt.”   Red cowboy boots followed, along with black patent leather Mary Janes , white patent leather flats, orange sandals, rainbow-hued flip-flops []

Why Am I Writing A Memoir?

“Ca Girls” is a memoir in progress, that isn’t so much about me, as it is about a generation–My Generation. I can only show the story through my experience. My aging generation teeters

Thanksgiving Adjustments

I just put on my MBTs so I could stand and bake the rest of the day. Running through my mental holiday check list, I could not peg what was bringing me down as opposed to my usual excitement. “Fresh cranberries. Check. Emotional swell. Cornmeal for stuffing. Check. Emotional swell. Roasting pan from garage. Check. Emotional swell. WTF is going on?”