Good Night, Good Dog

Today was pretty much the Mondayest Monday in the history of Mondays. Today, we put our thirteen-year-old Brittany, Jester, down. Mr. Man and I put a lot of research into choosing what would be our family dog after having lived with Jack, pretty much the perfect cocker spaniel. We wanted something a little bigger, with a similar happy disposition, good looks, smarts, and just a bit different...
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Bears With Furniture

One problem with living in a creative family is the amount of stuff we all tend to accumulate. When Mr. Man decided he wanted to play guitar, the Yamaha acoustic cutaway was soon joined by five electrics and Frick’s Squier jazz bass and Martin dreadnought. We have piles of movies and video games, boxes of art supplies, and yarns for both knitting and needlepoint. We’re all readers,...
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A House Is Not a Home

In February of 1976, after several years of living in the Carolinas and a memorable year or so in the midwest (a foreign country to my Southern sensibilities), my family finally moved permanently to Florida. We left our house in Westerville, OH and drove through a sleet storm until we crossed the bridge across the Ohio River into Covington, KY. The sun broke through the clouds for just a moment,...
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Fear Not

Anyone who grew up when I did learned to love the Charlie Brown Christmas special. We talk about Charlie Brown trees at the lot, those poor things that are more stick than needles. We know all the words to “Christmas Time Is Here.” We know exactly how awful pink aluminum Christmas trees are, no matter what today’s fashionable magazines tell us is “on trend.” But the...
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Learning to Let Go

Trips to Daddy’s in Highlands have a pattern. The way up is the hated trip on I-75 through Georgia–the Interstate that seems like it’s been under construction since I was a kid. The way back involves an overnight stop in Clemson at my aunt and uncle’s house on Lake Keowee (Aunt Lou’s B&B, we call it), then a loop up and over Greenville, down through Clinton so...
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