Somebody Has to Make Breakfast

  It is Book Release Week at our house. In my make-believe-world, that means I float about town in gracious author-mode doing only book-related things all day. In reality, I still have to do the laundry. I sat down with my long-suffering husband a few days ago...

We Were Young Once

  On our first Valentine’s Day together, my future-husband, Wendell, and I were eighteen and nineteen years old. We had been dating five months. And, we had been engaged since November. Thus, the foolish part. I blame Viet Nam. I tell people often that in...

Going for the Gold

I read recently about a famous neurologist who became fascinated by the periodic table at a young age. He started correlating his birthdays with it. At the age of eleven he could say he was sodium, and at 79 he became gold. I love that. I’ve always believed we...

To Carry A Name

I remember when my grandmother used to take me to the grocery store with her, and she always signed her check, “Mrs. D.E. Grubbs” in long, curly script. The signature fascinated me in so many ways. First, no one ever called my grandfather D.E. Grubbs. His...