Sunday Morning Blog
Thanks for stopping by to check out my blog. Sit down, grab a cup of tea, and browse around. The first Sunday of the month I write a new post and share a little piece of my life.
My two teenage kids take up a lot of space on the page. But I also love to write about the joy and heartache of a long-term marriage, the gift of aging parents, my attempt to lead a healthy, mindful, and purpose-driven life, my career as a real estate professional, and what it’s like to chase a dream at middle age. And lots more. Sometimes I even throw in a recipe for Sunday dinner.
While it’s a blast when a big website re-syndicates one of my posts, my real goal is to write in a such a way that compels you pop back again and again to read my stories. I love it when you like, comment, or share a post. And when you subscribe to my email list—my heart lifts. You’re making my dream come true. Thanks.
P.S. Click Here to read a few of my Favorite Posts. Looking for something else, try one of these categories:
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The room is dim—the only source of light is the late afternoon sun sneaking through the wavy glass windowpanes and dancing across the deep sills. A huge tree stands against a plaster white wall. There is a tall wooden ladder, its legs splayed, perched next to the...read more
No sooner had I cleaned up Thanksgiving dinner that it hit me. Sure as the sun would rise, Black Friday would dawn and Cyber Monday would follow. The holiday shopping could not be delayed any longer. Time to face the crowds, the credit cards, and the capitalist...read more
Most guys hate to shop, right? My seventeen-year-old son fits the popular stereotype. He’s a one-stop shop kind of guy. If the item can’t be purchased in Dick’s Sporting Goods, then it’s probably not going to be found. In fact, ten minutes in Dick’s is all the time he...read more
The stadium lights glowed in the warm, early evening, the turf a bright green. Hershey Park Stadium was mostly empty as my son’s high school soccer team warmed up. Rap music played over the loud speaker. The American flag waved in the gentle breeze, its red and white...read more
On my computer screen, a grainy black and white photograph stares at me. It’s jarring how young he was. And how handsome. And that he was dead at forty-one—an age younger than I am now. His obituary photo is all that pops up when I Google his name—the single evidence...read more
When my family moved to the Oley Valley, I was in the second grade. The village had less than 2000 residents, one traffic light, and no football team. The Main Street was, and still is, lined with brick Victorians and old stone farmhouses. There’s the M & M...read more
Long ago when my husband and I first dated, he had sweet terms of endearment for me. Young love makes you say silly things. Darling. Sweetheart. Honeybunches. His friends teased him. But he couldn't help himself! He was so in love. And I secretly savored these pet...read more
The parenting job didn’t come with instructions. No, the most I got was a few eyewinks, sly smiles, and rye salutations like, “Welcome to the club,” from older, well-meaning, seasoned procreators. But, no worries, seventeen years into this gig, I’ve figured out the...read more
At Sunday dinner last week, my seventy-two year old mother was about to pass on the fresh-from-the-oven brownies that I’d baked. “I’m on a diet,” she said with a look of sheer determination. “I’m not wearing a dress to swim in the bay this summer. I’m getting into a...read more