The Makers

Makers keep showing up in my life. You know, the people who translate ideas and mismatched parts into physical things. A car. A coffee table. A thriving business. A killer dress. I birthed a Maker. My eldest son tinkers and toils with his hands—happier that way than any other. I take no credit. My father’s…

The blank page speaks

I call it the tyranny of the blank page. I also call it the miracle of the blank page. How that plays out is up to me more often than not. I can tell myself that blank page will mock me because what I fill it with will not be good enough/smart enough/has been said…

20/20 vision in 2015

The Universe can be a bit of a nag. For weeks, I kept running across reading material on envisioning my future. Then, I ran across on old video clip of Oprah talking to Jim Carey. He wrote himself a $10 million “pretend” check for his acting services when he was an unknown. He also visualized…

An open book

I sigh in exasperation at yet another item littering the floor of my youngest’s room. Will he never learn to tame the clutter? And then I smile, my attitude flipping as easily as a page. A page in the book that was the object “littering” the floor of his room. This particular book was a…

The writing life

When you’re a writer, people seem to feel you must be bohemian enough to accept them asking you anything. Or maybe people are just rude. I prefer to think the former. Regardless, I’ve had many people ask me why I write. They look at me, curiously, wondering what the payoff is. Sometimes, the tone is…

Got brave. Forgot the beret.

My brand new painting is gracing my laundry room. I’m not saying “my” because I bought it. I say “my” because the artist is moi. Take that, Mary Ann. For the uninitiated among you, Mary Ann was my third-grade nemesis in art class and one of the reasons I’ll never understand the term “art therapy”….