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Reformed
There’s little worse than being cornered into conversing with a reformed ______. Insert your own term from this list, please: alcoholic, sinner, fatty, cigarette smoker, slut… being placed in Harangue Hell.
No salad course, of course
The provocative phrase above, written on a cocktail napkin of vibrant blue hue, drew a laugh and my quick purchase at a local shop. It’s evoked many a laugh since as we shared among guests in our house. Suddenly it reared as a dare in my mind, a challenge to write a salad story starter. Here goes:
Grant Boys
Larry and I recently trolled the Grant Boys Store in Newport Beach, an institution of sorts. The store had occupied a block of prime CA real estate for 60 years, likely a record on Newport’s streets of sun-drenched dreams, where a well-toned tan bests camo gear every sun-blessed day of the week. No sand, beach towels or suits on its racks, surf or Boogie Boards stocked by our ‘Boys’ in the city of the famed wave-breaking beach.
Past as Prologue: Iowa Writers approve
Jackie and Steve Breeden live on a small farm, the vintage dream of the American Midwest. The vast fields surrounding their home have long been held by Steve’s family, but are cash-rented to neighbors who possess fresh burnished resolve. Buttressed by a longer line of credit at the bank and buffered by younger bones.
The couple have earned a contented life. Their gravel lane undulates a rise and their farmhouse aligns like a nose between two cheek-like hills under the eyes of God. Robert Frost would have composed a poem just for them, if he lived in their time.
Life as a Miracle: Seven Turns
We’ve returned from a visit with forty-year friends, a couple with whom we ‘co-courted’. Courting seems a quaint term, perhaps, but applies because we were all beyond ‘dating’ and, well, date is a calendared term linked to age… Which causes one to contemplate history, which couples and dear friends have.
My husband and I are feeling quite quaint.
Therefore, today’s post begins with a history lesson:
Living Life as a Miracle: US
Ten years ago, Larry and I celebrated an unearthly magical night, with music that soared into space. It was epic, something never done before and never since…
“You are a shooting star”
Are you a shooting star or are you not?
Double entendre words
We’re all aware of double entendre, a French phrase that masks sometimes dirty tricks of language, sexual innuendo and such. Disclaimer: this post is not a reflection on the happenings in my house. My husband and I simpatico-direct, not reliant upon such words – or any words at all sometimes. We commune and communicate in a contented sphere, often knowing more about what the other means than openly disclosed. This state is a fine artifact of our long-married status. We cherish our in-tune entendre life
Not Melancholy – Mellencamp
I was working my network to become a back-up singer with John Mellencamp’s band when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, Triple Negative, a rare version of the disease that grabs hold of one woman in eight as a lifetime risk. After six months of treatments, several sweet God-inspired moments jogged my path. I write lyrics of a different sort than John, but I do write…
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