His fingers. My nose. Her self. Aaaarrrrgh. I can’t do it. I can’t limit myself to just six words. See? Here I am rambling on, belaboring you with the curse…
Paper Doll Tales Posts
Last night found me stalking bull frogs around the perimeter of a neighbor’s pond. My feet squelched in grass boggy from regurgitating the over-abundant rains of the past week. Little…
It’s hard to ignore the meteorologists’ long-faced reports on the weather state of the union: floods gobbling up Mississippi riverbanks while the parched throat of Texas gasps for a sip…
“Just try one bite.” I hear myself spit out this phrase at dinner and cringe. Little Friend has made the dinner frittata public enemy number one. I weep a bit…
The pads of my toes grind against the pebbled grit of the diving board. My heels are bisected by the edge–one half squelching off into thin air, the other half…
“You look just like your mom!” I’ve heard it time and again beginning way back in those teenage years when the ugly duckling stage of the tweens began to molt…