That’s Life . . .

We’d hesitated to return to a restaurant we’d frequented countless times. It had new owners and a new name, and we arbitrarily decided it couldn’t possibly be as good as it had been previously. We drive past it every day and each time we debate when and whether we should give it a try. Last night we bit the bullet and went in. [read more…]

While I checked out at the supermarket Marc sat waiting on a bench along the wall. He struck up a conversation with a warm and friendly man who had a brilliant smile and claimed to be 94 years old. He asked Marc how old he was. “I’m 78,” he answered. The man sighed wistfully. “Ah, to be 78 again,” he said. “That was a great age.”

It was 5:00. My dog had just walked into my office to remind me it was time to get into the kitchen and start rattling those pots and pans. I don’t know how he does it, but he always knows when it’s 5:00. He has to have swallowed a watch, which is why I refer to him as my “watch” dog…my chauvinist watchdog. [read more…]

Today we went grocery shopping and, as usual, we brought our Service Dog, Shadeaux, who sat in the basket loving all of the attention he was getting from other shoppers. As we rounded the pasta aisle a woman walked over to the cart and said, “Ooooh, he is absolutely adorable.” “Aisle Seven,” I said. “They’re on sale.” Five minutes later I was in the Frozen Food department, reaching for a bag of broccoli, when the woman tapped me on the shoulder. “There were sold out,” she said, “but they gave me a Rain Check.”

I’m sitting at my desk, at my computer. Alongside me, on the floor to the right, is a large wastebasket, filled with rumpled 8-1/2” x 11” sheets of white paper; plain, ordinary sheets of paper that I determined, for one reason or another, were no longer worthy of my love and attention; through no fault of their own. I’ve been here for roughly three hours. Writing. During those hours I’ve altered my perspective, changed my goal, misplaced my focus and lost my motivation. Repeatedly. And, with each change I’ve felt compelled to press Print, rip the paper from my [read more...]

Life can be Easy.  Life can be Tough.  If you’re lucky, you spend most of your time in the middle of those two extremes, with substantial shifts to the left. And, that’s where I usually live. But, bringing my second book to fruition has, on too many occasions, pushed me to the far right. Writing the book was pure joy. I love to write. I live to write. I awaken each morning, excited to get into my office. My head is bursting with ideas to write about; ideas that appear to me during the night; ideas that compel me [read more...]