“What does the phrase, “I didn’t have a choice” mean to you?” the therapist asked her client. “Didn’t have a choice? Hmmm. Yes, that’s what they all say. No choice means not taking responsibility.” Marie stared at her therapist, waiting for her reaction. “Who is ‘they’,” her therapist asked. “What?” “You said, ‘That’s what they…
Happy Anniversary, Ray!
Forty-five years. Now that does make us sound old, eh? We have had a lot of happy moments together, my dear. Our girls, our sons-in-law (we’re counting you, Andrew), our grandkids, our extended family, lots of friends, our travels in the US, Mexico, and abroad, our orange grove, our Texas life, our antique business, our…
Help! I’ve Been Misplacing My Commas for Years
I’m writing this blog for those of you who worry about punctuation as much as I do—which, admittedly, may be a small group. But if you’re a proud member of that grammar-loving club, then this one’s for you. A few days ago, I discovered I’ve been misusing commas around names for years. (Yes, years.) Naturally,…
Flash Fiction: Where the Kindness Is
I wrote this a while back, but saw it tonight and thought that we could all use the reminder to go where the kindness is. I do, at least! Also, sometimes we do just have to walk through the pain. No fun, but that’s the truth. Happy Wednesday to all. Len “I don’t know what…
At the Threshold: A Life Built on Yes
A favorite time of my life was the early years of my marriage to Ray. We barely knew each other when we tied the knot in 1980—and I mean that quite literally. We’d worked together on a psychiatric unit in Denison, Texas—me, a 24-year-old therapist; Ray, a 19-year-old orderly—when we first became friends. Then I…
Marriage, Anger, and the Art of Growth
I have a long fuse, but once it burns out—watch out. Just ask my husband. I’m calm and forgiving up to a point, and then—bam! I go straight to mad. And not just irritated, but (as we say in Texas) pure-D angry. I’m working on not being such a hothead, but it comes pretty naturally….
Soccer, Our Grandson, Nico, and This Weekend
Lucky us! For the past two days, our 9-year-old grandson, Nico, his sister, Luna, and his dad, Gregorio, have been in Ventura for a soccer tournament. Nico has joined a club team, which means that he has now moved up into “serious” soccer. He had to audition for his position as goalie and this weekend…
Poem: Positano
This is a memory from a long-ago visit to Positano, Italy, on the Amalfi Coast. I was there again in 2019, but didn’t get to spend much time in this lovely cliffside village. When I traveled to Positano at age 22, I was certain it was the most beautiful place in the entire world. It…
Thank You to Those Who Have Bought and/or Have Read My Novel
I read an article the other day that said, “It’s a whole lot easier to get someone to buy your book than for them to actually read it.” I am guilty of this myself with my ever-growing stack of books on my bedside table, so I know that statement is absolutely true. However, slow but…
Flash Fiction: A Life Composed Anew
Janet wasn’t sure why life felt so complicated these days. Maybe it had something to do with the way the wind never seemed to stop blowing, tugging at her short gray hair, and stirring memories of happier times—before Chet died. Chet, her husband of 35 years, who’d woken up one morning saying he didn’t feel…
20 Minutes a Day 