While out and about, running errands, Scott and I decided to stop for a lunch date, our energy depleted. We rarely do that, and even more rarely do we stop at The Landing, and if we DO go to the Landing, we usually go upstairs to the pub, not the diner downstairs. But today we … Continue reading Stopping for Lunch
Memoir
Sunday Breakfast
Today I woke up to the smell of coffee and waffles. Lovely and familiar, bringing back memories of Sunday breakfasts over the years. Now that the kids are gone we don't really make big productions anymore, but Grace is here for a bit and Scott is making us a nice breakfast. I have so many … Continue reading Sunday Breakfast
Wonder. One More Small Thought About Anchorage
Anchorage feels anonymous and distant until a stranger, an older woman with large arms and soft skin hugs me, looks at me, really looks at me like she knows me, and tells me I look just like my mom. Suddenly, I am home again.
Ocean View
(This was published earlier, but wanted to get my writing on one site) Last September I returned home, to Anchorage, for the sad occasion of my sister’s funeral. Over the week, as my family gathered we toured our remembered favorites. Lunch at the Roadrunner and ordered an Alaska Banquet of course – my grown up … Continue reading Ocean View
What it Means to be a Family Dog.
This morning I woke up thinking about loyal, sweet Gwennie. Even though she has been gone two years, I can still almost feel her. Her head on the bed, staring at me, willing me to wake up. Her toenails, click, click, clicking as she follows Scott's heel closely as he gets ready in the morning. … Continue reading What it Means to be a Family Dog.
Teacups
Afternoons with my grandmother were spent sipping tea. Hot tea, no matter the weather. Tea from delicate, beautiful and oh-so-fragile teacups. A cube or two of sugar, the lovely sound of metal against porcelain, a small silver spoon resting on the matching saucer. She kept them on a sideboard, and each afternoon we would select a … Continue reading Teacups
Voo-Doo
When Grace was in 1st grade she "learned" how to make Voodoo dolls on the bus. I was in my classroom, grading papers when I felt the sharpest sensation - the pain of a single hair being pulled from my head. She was making a Voodoo doll of me! I said absolutely not. Later that night … Continue reading Voo-Doo
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