Easily the oddest Thanksgiving ever. The family unit carved up like a turkey. In Arizona, they put up their Christmas tree and had cereal...

Another writing effort put out there in the pandemic... Each year, San Diego Writers Ink publishes an anthology of curated works. A...

It’s a small quaint room, my dining room, where meals are rarely eaten. The feast is on the wall, a gallery of art. A peony flower floats...

I have spent twenty years talking about extraordinary works of art at The San Diego Museum of Art. The last time was eight months ago on...

Less than a day after writing this, I awakened to the announcement that Joe Biden is the forty-sixth president of the United States....

This brilliant and delightful person has been my writing buddy, since we both began to write seriously just over five years ago. My...

Anguish mounted. “I have moved those damn tables into every room in this house and they don’t belong anywhere. I need to get rid of...

Chesterton, Ohio in 1968. Mom came from Texas to visit just about this time of year. A beautiful autumn in the Midwest. My small tots...

October 2020 is here—an October like none other in my lifetime. Octobers of my past flutter through my mind like falling leaves. I’ll...

Fifteen very entertaining women-live and in vibrant technicolor, plus a couple on Zoom invited me to be a guest at their recent Book Club...

I love this powerful statement about love from an essay by Ottessa Moshfegh. So yeah, love - what is it? Does it start in the mind or the...

End of August. How unjust. September looms. Summer’s doom. Out, out damn Dahlias, lavender wands, lemonade with mint. Au Revoir my floppy...

Summer of orange Valencias outside my window Fruit of inspiration Fragrance swirling in the air My book in blossom Everything orange Days...

I devoured my book club’s recent selection, So Long, See You Tomorrow, an artistic novella which was described several years ago as “one...

I find myself going around in quarantine circles, screen to screen to screen.ad With dizzying regularity. Like a pirouetting ballerina,...

and as the creepy boys in sixth grade loved to chant, "She's not a poet, but her feet show it-they're longfellows." Was that bullying? I...

Here we are, all masked souls. At least a large majority of us. Or is the majority not so large? Whether you think masking is good or...

“Many kinds of fruit grow upon the tree of life, but none as sweet as friends; as with the orange tree its blossoms and fruit appear at...

I wrote that question two years ago about this time when we were mired in the pandemic and strangely unsettled about the future. The...

The long and winding road to flat belly… In reality the road is long, but not winding. In order for me to pare down the girth of my...