I have often wondered what goes through her mind when she curls herself into a big ball on the sofa and sleeps, and she does this a lot.
With the New Year’s Eve champagne barely behind us, 2018 unfolds full of promise and challenge.
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas, even though technically I have already had one.
It was a few weeks before Christmas in 1981 and all the halls of Richton Elementary School came alive with handmade Santa Clauses made from construction paper, scissors and glitter.
Just last night while lying in bed with my Great Dane, flannel pajamas and the classic holiday movie “A Christmas Carol” playing, I sipped hot chocolate from my favorite Rudolph mug, the one with the chip on it.
My Christmas list to Santa reads quite differently than the one I penned under the supervision of my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Jeffcoats, all those years ago.
“Look at lights! Look at lights!”
She was too young for much of a vocabulary, but her exuberance transcended the need for words.
There are so many things I miss about Thanksgiving now that the light in my little stone cottage on Dykes Chapel Road has dimmed.
Well, that’s according to Groucho Marks. This much I know: The books we read while children stay with us our whole lives.
One of my favorites is “Frog and Toad Are Friends,” written and illustrated by Arnold Lobel and published in 1970.
Birthdays are the best!
Mine is this month, and I am ecstatic to be celebrating it with the best of friends in one of my favorite cities in the world, Washington, D.C.