Dream House

I don’t know what it is about my subconscious, but when I’m asleep, HGTV takes over. I dream about houses. Not just normal houses, but houses with all kinds of strange nooks, crannies, and extra rooms. Like last night. I was dreaming about my house–sort of–when I started turning corners and found a huge laundry room that looks like it came out of Pottery Barn catalog,...
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The Bed List/The Dinner List

I haven’t had any of these picks for a while, not because I’m not interested in men (who could lose interest in men?), but because the schedule was so packed, I didn’t have time or energy to focus on them properly. (Husbands everywhere are rolling their eyes and thinking to themselves, “So what else is new??”) But I’ve seen the light–or, at least, great...
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busybusybusybusy

Back in the school groove, which means nothing much else is doing any grooving. That includes housework and, as I’m sure you have surmised by now, blogging. Fear not; new Bed/Dinner List choices to be made, observations on school craziness, and more writing. Writing would be good.
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Cobwebs

So I’m reading through my college magazine and come across an item about a former boyfriend. Not just a former BF, but the one who broke my heart. Everyone has one of those, right? The one who says and does all the right things, then smashes your heart and your self-esteem along with it? The one who taunts you into dialing while drunk, or evokes long epistles begging for things to be set...
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Back to School

Life’s back to normal, which means early morning craziness, traffic, lunches, nonstop activity, more traffic, and collapse. You know, school’s started. For teachers, anyway.The first week back for teachers is five solid days of meetings, more meetings, and decorating. Fix the room. Run copies. Prepare copies. Run from place to place. Training, training, more training. Meetings again....
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Minor Irritants

Okay, I must stop niggling over movie goofs at IMDb. Way too much time-suck involved. I really don’t have time to explain over and over about stupid stuff like how Flicka in the book is a sorrel, not a freakin’ palomino, but there you are.Then again, some little niggling things just must be addressed. Here are three:1) Stop, for love of Pete, saying and writing “can’t...
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