In my defense, I have to say that I really never stood a chance. I was five, and my mother called me into the living room, where Grandma was waiting in a recliner. "Hello, Shanny," she said. I screamed and and covered my eyes with my hands. For my grandmother had taken four or five of those chocolate, star-bursty medallions and situated them over her teeth ... so that it looked, from where I stood, as if her mouth were nothing but a yawning cavern of brownness. My scream elicited an eruption ... continue reading...
Search Results for: All eyes
Ode to Granola
You start with a giant bowl of oats. I don't mean "quick cook" oats, either. They have their place in the kitchen, but in a recipe like granola, quick oats pose no challenge to teeth; they offer no satisfaction. Regular oats. Giant bowl. In a just-big-enough pan, you then heat together a bit of oil and honey. The oil, in my opinion, should be olive, because it's so good for you, but you can use whatever you hand on hand. And as long as I'm being bossy, I suggest you go out and get yourself a ... continue reading...
On Highs and Lows … and Lists
Be patient with each other, making allowance for each other’s faults because of your love. --Eph 4:2b (NLT) The young woman looked nervous, but determined. As I took a chair in front of the girl and her husband, I wondered why they'd called an emergency meeting. It didn't take long for me to find out. “I’ve made a list,” she began, “and these are all the ways you’ve failed me as a pastor’s wife.” I couldn’t believe what I heard. One by one, she read my faults out loud. Most things were petty ... continue reading...
Turning a Page
I set Gage on the bed next to his grandpa, and I listen while the two of them say hello. "Hey there, Big Guy!" Dave says, grinning. Gage grunts and grins back. He loves his grandpa. And he has no idea how close he came to losing him. This last week, after months of asking politely and being politely rebuffed, I finally insisted that Dave go to the walk-in clinic. The chest pain he'd been told last year was "probably arthritis" had gotten so bad that he couldn't do anything physical for more ... continue reading...
Charlie ~ Part 2
I don't know if any of the rest of you do this, but I seem to compose most of my blog posts in the early, pre-awake hours of the morning. The near fully-composed post materializes sometime in the night. It floats above my head, waits patiently for me to get into that almost-awake state, and then makes its presence known. I don't know if it slaps me across the head or whispers tenderly in my ear, I only know that at some point, my eyes spring open, I reach out and snatch that ready-to-go idea, ... continue reading...
Charlie ~ Part 1
My work-in-progress has me back in 1968 right now. All my reading and writing about hippies prompted a favorite memory ... When I looked in the side-view mirror of our Chevy Luv pick-up and saw the man walking toward us, I thought perhaps Charles Manson had escaped from prison and come for a visit. The approaching man had a touch of wild dishevelment about him and that same shock of long, brown, unbrushed hair. The closer he drew, the more I wondered -- especially when I honed in on a pair of ... continue reading...