Archive - August 2018

I hated writing as a kid (how things change…).  And I mean Hated.  It.  But I did keep a diary, one of those with the cheapie metal lock that was easily picked by prying eyes.  I wrote everything private in that little book.  Boy-crushes, my worries, my deepest thoughts.  It never occurred to me the irony here:  I hated structured academic writing yet let the ink flow into a girly, flower-y volume.  The answer seems obvious now. At school I wrote because I had to.  At home I was the boss of what I wrote. Ba-Zinga. Just how slow was…

We were told it takes a year.  Of course, at that time we couldn’t imagine what the next 12 months would hold, but we knew it wouldn’t be easy.  Every day would be a first. One year ago today my husband’s dad, my second father for 30 years, and our kids’ grandfather lost his brave fight with a rare cancer.  True to his nature, he outlived the prognosis by several months with his positive outlook to live every day to the fullest.  He learned from a early age how precious and tenuous life is and made sure, for almost 60 years…