Is this the story of You?

They say there is a novel in each of us. Let’s just start with the most obvious one, the story of you. This should be the easiest one to write, don’t you think? But for any of us who stay away from delving into our souls, touching those creepy places we’ve hidden away our deepest fears and secrets this could be the scariest story to write of all....more

Falling For Them

It is another gorgeous autumn afternoon in Oreland. We have been blessed with some spectacular, crisp and sunny days lately—which makes me dread the dark and dreary winter ahead even more. Aiden’s been earning his keep by raking the back yard with his mini-rake. If I was an outdoorsy type (which if you read this blog at all you know I am definitely not), I would almost be tempted to hike or something. Luckily, my family can do the outside thing for me, and I can just look at the pictures from the comfort of my living room....more

I Heart NY

Growing up in Manhattan, the closest I ever got to Brooklyn was looking at it from the other side of the East River. The part of Brooklyn I could see was Greenpoint (or as my Pop Cunningham would pronounce it in his old New York-ese, “Greenpernt.”) Never set foot in any of the other boroughs either. Of course, my traveling options were somewhat limited since we moved away when I was eight (why COULDN’T I take the subway alone? I remember whining. Being a kid was such a bummer!)...more

My Mug Runneth Over

I have a tendency to break things. I have broken countless glasses over the years, and more than a few plates. This is because I am a clumsy and totally disinterested dish washer. I also break necklaces and lose earrings regularly, because I am a slapdash and indifferent jewelry wearer. In short, you should not trust me with any delicate item you own (I know I certainly don’t!)...more

The Waiting

Our family is in that difficult time that all cancer patients and their loved ones get to experience–the waiting. We are grateful that at least Dan is feeling good right now. But, the waiting is hard....more

Kudos to the Writer of the Terrible Poem

My brother read a terrible poem during our weekly prayer call.  My other brother (we conference together each week) and I listened and were touched.  Brother 1 hadn’t written the poem.  He found it on the Internet.  It was awful, terribly crafted and schmaltzy - ridiculous.  Still, somehow when he read it, he conjured up so many memories of Mom.  I felt as if I had holograph of her in front of me.  The memories were lively and vivid. ...more

Snapshots of my life... but not exactly like the writing prompts 5/1/16

Since we went to church on Saturday night we had a whole Sunday to ourselves.  We sat on the couch for part of it and did Chapter 4 in our couples book.  Working through this book brings up past dysfunctions that may be causing issues in being able to relate now.  Both of us feel as if we relate exceptionally well actually, probably because we’ve been doing it for over 36 years.  Our marriage is solid, a joy.  Our marriage rotates around God, like the planets around the sun.  That’s what keeps us in sync and makes us work so well together.  And we can coun...more

Christian Dior Diorissimo (1956 / 2009) ≈ Strange Reformulation, or The Spirit of Jasmine Takes Over That of Muguet {Review}

   We're publishing for the first time the article below which was written in 2009. We think that as Hermès is launching a new muguet composition by Jean-Claude Ellena this spring, which pays homage to the classic Diorissimo, now was the time to link the present with the past, anew, so as to gain better insights into the history of this recurring human endeavor, the muguet perfume. ...more

faded photographs

I've been thinking a lot about family this week. My Dad passed away 15 years ago yesterday and Mom has been gone nearly 8 years. Oh, how those two loved Christmas. Which explains why they've been so much on my mind lately, and why I managed to lose myself the other night in  the treasure trove of photos they collected during 50 years of marriage. A few are displayed in albums, carefully captioned and dated, but many more were just tucked into folders, boxes, and envelopes and eventually forgotten. Smiling strangers, caught in the act of...? If only they could talk!...more