According to articles I have read on the Internet, a most reliable source as we all know, I may be related to ET.
Why, you ask?
Because Rh-negative blood flows through my veins.
Or at least it did before Covid. …
Let’s start with pumpkin.
I’ve never been a fan of this spice, let alone adding it to everything imaginable from coffee drinks to sex lubricants.
It’s crazy to me that millions of coffee drinkers act like they’ve just found the fountain of youth when seeing a pumpkin display in the…
Dim lights cast shadows across the floor. Sitar notes float through the air. An older woman dressed in flowing scarves sits in front of a crystal ball.
This is how I pictured a psychic when I was younger. …
I’m not a captive on a pirate ship, but every day, I walk the plank.
And I’m forced to jump off and swim with the crocodiles.
In my case, the crocs are not big, scary reptiles with pointed teeth. But repetitive questions oozing from my ninety-six year old mother’s mind.
Let me tell you,
A thing or two,
About your body,
And the pee and the poo.
You need to eat.
So, you can grow.
Food you don’t need,
Needs someplace to go.
The good is absorbed,
By your body parts. …
Many decades ago, the left side of my brain spent the day lining up numbers and making sure everything balanced, while the right side wrote dialogue, creating characters with a balanced if not overly active sex life.
It doesn’t take either side to know which was the more pleasurable job.
What my husband told me when I was eight and half months pregnant almost caused me to give birth on the sticky vinyl seat in our favorite Chinese restaurant. With the fortune cookie crushed between my fingers, I leaned forward and threw his words back to him in question form.
I may be one of a handful of people who really enjoyed diagramming sentences. I just loved how the words fell together in such a logical manner. To me, it all made perfect sense.
Nouns. Verbs. Prepositions. Adjectives. Adverbs. Every word had a job to perform — subject, object, predicate…
Remember when you could pick up the phone, dial 411 and get a real live person, someone like Ernestine from Laugh-In? Or maybe you can’t, because you’re too young.
Let me tell you. Life was different back in those pre-cell phone, pre caller ID, pre answering machines days. …
February 10, 2001. The last time I had my period.
This date is etched in my mind along with the day I gave birth, both of those “special” days involving my marriage vows, and my daughter’s first day of pre-school.