When I was in high school, Diana Felmet was my Home Economics sewing teacher. Mine and every other girl in the school since Home Ec was a required course and boys were not allowed to take it. (Oh, how the times have changed for the better!) Anyway, I learned to pick out patterns and…
Category: Family
Flash Essay: Hank III at House of Blues
We went to hear Hank III tonight, son of Hank, Jr. And grandson to Hank Williams. We are big fans of III’s, mainly his original country music, but also his “hellbilly” music. He has a distinctive voice, a tight band,and songwriting talent. I struck up a conversation before the show with a guy behind me….
Flash Essay: Us and the Dogs, Who Owns Who?
The dogs are barking. Why? Probably someone is walking down the street, or else William has meowed, sending two sets of canine ears on high alert. Sammie, our little foster dog, has shifted from half-dead to full of life. She is leading the charge this evening, protecting us from the dangers of the neighborhood. Tail…
Flash Essay: To Roast or Not To Roast in LA
The heat has been bad here in LA. It is the topic of almost every conversation and people are flocking to the movies and to the beaches to escape. The rest of us sit in our homes, which for the most part are without air-conditioning, and sweat. It ain’t pretty. I am from Texas, a…
Flash Essay: The Lure of Water Or Bury Me at Sea
I want to have my ashes spread in the Pacific, just like my brother Jim and my brother John. I’d like the Neptune Society to come and pick up my body when the time comes, take me to the crematorium, then put my ashes on a boat and haul them out to sea. My family…
Flash Essay: A Mish-Mash
It is 11:20 pm. I’ve just come back from a writing group with friends I’ve known since I participated in the John Rechy Master class. A good evening filled with talk of the woes in the publishing industry, the merit of self-publishing, along with critique of novels-in-progress. I like my writing friends. We’re cut from…
Repost: The Healing Power of Touch
I have a strong memory of spending a lot of time when I was a little girl snuggled up in bed next to my mother, her skin warm and her smell comforting. In that memory, my mother is always reading and her arm is around me so that I am nestled next to her. I…
Flash Essay: A Matter of Time
Time has always been a bug-a-boo for me. Having enough time; taking enough time. Is this just me or does everybody have this problem? I can’t quite tell. I am beginning to think this is an American malady, or maybe specific to a large city like LA, since it’s not uncommon to overhear people saying,…
Flash Essay: Born to Clean
Today I tackled an unsightly and rather unsavory task in our 1954 Spartan Manor, aka old trailer, up in Ojai. I tracked down all the old ground squirrel nests tucked into the out-of-the-way spots in the cabinets and swept up all of their droppings. Yuck. My work required a mask, gloves, a broom and dust…
Flash Memoir: Miss Inez Inglish and Her Overgrown Yard
Miss Inez English lived on Pine Street, right around the corner from our house on 9th in my little rural Texas town. Her one-story wooden house, white with green shutters, was set far back from the road, and was obscured by a front and back lawn covered with overgrown bushes and low-hanging trees, which cast…
20 Minutes a Day 