That’s Marshal Dillon Dingle up there. Stuck Marshal Dillon Dingle. Scene: I’m sitting at my kitchen counter and – having learned from past missed opportunities including everything from how... Read More
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… on a homecoming, a nearly dead husband, and a plea
Over the past few days, things here have been pretty dang busy. There have been backs and forths to the hospital to visit Grampa (the original Old Yankee Man... Read More
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… on loving an old yankee man (part two)
Months ago, I wrote my first post that had a ‘Part Two’, and I remember that I was completely flummoxed regarding how to start it. I’m serious. There are... Read More
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… on loving an old yankee man
On August 9, 1993 I took the plunge and began living with another man. Yes. It was a shock to my friends and family, and certainly was something that... Read More
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… on the freakin’ alarm clock
In my room, I have a small oak writing desk. It sits along a short stretch of wall directly across from my side of the bed. I call it... Read More
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… on a year with marshal dillon dingle (a poem of love and thanks)
The light into my bedroom streaming Morning light sends wood floors gleaming Small shifts and shuffles from their dens Two German Shepherds softly dreaming. I imagine Blaze is chasing... Read More
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… on me and miley cyrus, and expletives in fenway park
I have three children. I can echo the sentiments of many a parent who came before me in saying that bringing up children is one of the hardest jobs... Read More
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… on a poet of strength with a gift of sure
I missed a poetry reading yesterday because I was busy meeting an artist. I met a woman later on who turned out to be the poet. And she gave... Read More
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on rules forgotten and the great facebook incident of 2007
On a cold winter day years ago, I came around the corner into my kitchen and looked out the window. Two of my wonderful cherubs (then six and four),... Read More
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… on freakin’ should people, and the rule book
At 5:30 a.m. yesterday morning I left Lexington, Kentucky traveling northeast at an average speed of 74 miles per hour. If I only stopped when absolutely necessary (and once... Read More
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… on a big move, to a big country, where nothing is a big deal
In 1995, my dear husband and I found ourselves sprinting through LAX. And by ‘sprinting’, I mean moving as fast as humanly possible with two year old Mackenzie holding... Read More
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… on road trips, soft porn, and a bridge from nowhere
Today I head out on a road trip with my son. Our journey is a 1,527 miles from chic and trendy Dunstable, Massachusetts to New Orleans, Louisiana (or N’Orleans,... Read More