I'm about to divulge my secret recipe ... the one that has men fighting over the gallon-sized baggie holding these little treasures, and women hinting that they could eat another, and children sneaking their hands up over the counter and grabbing another gooey handful. Yes. It's my licorice caramel recipe. I've had it forever. I started making it about three minutes after I found it. For the life of me, I can't remember where I got it, and I'm sorry for that. I would love to give credit where ... continue reading...
Search Results for: Make it stop
Fly
We missed the Evergreen State Fair this year. I don't know how that happens. I am always so determined that we're going to go, but sometimes August slips into September and our chance disappears along with it. There's always the Puyallup, but it's not the same thing. All my best memories are from the Fair in Monroe. And of all those memories, the most precious to me is the last time I went with my grandmother. She announced one day that she wanted to go. In itself, that request doesn't seem ... continue reading...
Moon Songs
"The heart knows its own bitterness ..." Proverbs 14:10 Craig was only twelve, but that was two years more living than I had under my belt, so naturally I believed him. "I know why that old German lady is crazy," he told my cousin and me, gesturing to the house next to his. His was the skinny in-between farm, flanked on one side by my grandparents and on the other by the lady in question. I didn't doubt Craig. He knew just enough more about everything else that we never thought to question ... continue reading...
Restored
I am back among the land of the breathing. This morning, I opened my eyes and realized two things: one, I had slept through the night without a single coughing fit, and two, I could smell the rain-washed air drifting through our bedroom window. No more congestion, no more sore throat, no more rattling cough. It's funny how just three or four days of discomfort can make you appreciate normalcy. I ran through the house sniffing that lovely smell and even went outside for a long moment, just ... continue reading...
The Last Time
When I walked into the kitchen this morning and saw that straw sticking out of a too-short cup, my first thought was, That is absolutely the last time I buy straws. They irritate me. I don't know why. I suppose I could trace it back to those curly, loop-de-loop straws I bought way back when the kids were younger. I wanted them to like the straws, but not so much that they'd actually use them. Because if they used them, say, for milk, then I'd have to be diligent about cleaning them. You can't ... continue reading...
On Writing and Ritual … and the Power of the Obituary
I don't use a specific pen, nor do I wear a lucky writing hat when I sit at my desk. I don't keep rotten apples in my desk drawer to sniff for inspiration, although this apparently worked for the German writer, Friedrich Schiller. And on the subject of clothing: Unlike Victor Hugo, I prefer to wear some while I'm composing -- but that's just me. The rest of you do what you like. I don't habitually write in the bathtub while eating apples, like Agatha Christie, although I did write in a ... continue reading...