Some family members expressed concern about our welfare since we haven’t blogged in over a week. Don’t worry. We weren’t consumed in the fire (not even close) and our plane from our Labor Day trip landed safely. My creative muse took a vacation, but hopefully will be back soon. It kills me when I can’t think of anything to write, or worse when life is too poetic to be captured by my limited abilities. I wish I had the makings…
Friday morning I awoke to NPR as I do most mornings. They played a segment from the Story Corp project that really tugged at my heart strings. The clip was of a man who had just been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease speaking with his wife about his memory and living in the moment with his family. My thoughts immediately turned to my grandmother, Carol Jean Mitchell, who struggled with that disease before passing away in 2002. She was taken mercifully…
One of my professors once told us, “You know you’ve written something good when you read through it and it makes you cry.” While this might be a good measure for callous scholars, I’m not sure it’s a good check for a young mom who has oxytocin swimming around her bloodstream. I cry when certain songs come on the radio and when I can wrestle into my fitted pre-pregnancy clothes. So, here are some thoughts whether well penned or not,…