Stephanie says

Lawn chairs drawn closely together, knees touching, we lounge on the back porch sipping icy cold beer, laughing and talking while watching the huge harvest moon hug the horizon. A wash of moonlight illuminates the barn.  The moon slowly rises in the dimming night sky, diminishing in size as it ascends higher and higher against the perspective of the skyline. Moonbeams peep through leafy branches of the canopy of an ancient maple tree, and briefly disappear. He sings “Angel from Montgomery” a capella, a favorite John Prine tune, the progression of G, C, D, F chords enchanting in my ear. He looks at me and grins on the high notes. This man can’t carry a tune, but no matter, I treasure this moment. I laugh but it catches in my throat as my heart swells in an intoxicating rush of breathlessness, joy, contentment, and soaring love. It is a perfect evening. Speaking strictly for me, we both could have died than and there.* (Words and Music by Joan Baez) Well I'll...

This is where I leave you Jonathon Tropper I just finished this – dark humor at its best – about a family coping after the death of the father. I laughed uproarishly throughout, my dogs kept running to me to share in the fun. It’s sad too; I had to wipe away the occasional tear. I hadn’t heard of the author – but now I have and ordered two earlier books – hope they’re as good. The author’s observations of sexual acts are detailed and snortingly humorous. Fun as sex is, it surely looks as ridiculous to the uninvolved as any barnyard coupling. Remember your astonishment upon learning about the birds and bees? Who among us didn’t see the ick factor and vowed “I’ll never do THAT.” Ah, we were wrong about so many things. The protagonist’s portrayal of his childhood is bittersweet and his depictions of the siblings is wickedly brilliant. Interactions between the sibs and spouses have surprising and often uncomfortable results. I was pleased with the ending – no spoiler h...

I’ve volunteered at a variety of organizations over the years. I loved hammering away at Habitat builds where I also served on the board of directors. I was the go-to person for mitered trim boards. I do love angles. My friend Tim commented on this photo “What, they ringing the dinner bell?” Wise guy. I ushered at a community theater the second Wednesday of each play which meant I got to see all the plays. “Cat on a hot tin roof” in the round was magnificent! I sat mesmerized in the first row, arms length proximity to Brick, played by a marvelously formed male clad only in tighty-whities during the first act. My, oh my, but I enjoyed that play. My winter working schedule is down to one day per week. I could be writing a book but for an elusive plot, so I decided to devote some of my free time volunteering. My particular workday floats, dependent on business needs so I need a drop-in volunteer position. I met with the staff at the United Way office to discuss options. They aim to match ...

Bag of Bones By Stephen King Published 1998 I just finished this book and enjoyed its conversational style. I’ve read so few books by prolific author Stephen King. Why? Because I’m a big scaredy cat and reading spooky stuff is at my peril. I wasn’t allowed to see scary movies as a child, this mandate following my older brother’s watching “The Blob” and having horrendous nightmares for months. There were no such restrictions on scary books although I didn’t read many. I had enough weird dreams where I’d wake in terror and make a torturous dash down the hallway to jump into bed with my parents screaming “Mom!” all the way. At age 18 I read some strange devil worship novel that scared me badly enough that I slept in my mother’s bed, my back to hers so I could watch for the boogey man coming to get me in the wee hours. I (barely) slept in her bed for two weeks. Scaredy, scaredy cat. There were a few ghosty rumblings in the early chapters of “Bag of Bones” that gave me pause. I wondered if ...

The Marriage Plot By Jeffrey Eugenides This is the second book I’ve read by Jeffrey Eugenides. The first was “Middlesex” which alas, I did not finish. Eugenides’ books require serious concentration for me to read. His use of language and extensive vocabulary intrigue me yet make me feel undereducated. Maybe it’s his Ivy League background and I’m a state college type… “The Marriage Plot” set in college is a tale of a woman and two men immersed in a love triangle, told from the perspective of each. One character, Mitchell, studies religious philosophy and provides Eugenides a format to delve into a broad spectrum of religious dogma. A Russian fable from “A Confession” by Tolstoy particularly captured my attention. I have to admit the only Tolstoy I’ve read to-date is “Anna Karenina” which I have not finished. Stuck on page 337 for oh, the last year or so, and just not that interested… Are you sensing a trend here? To paraphrase the fable: A man chased by a monster jumps into a well. He s...

I have vivid dreams. They explode into my deep sleep with movie intensity, reel after reel. Something I suspect rather peculiar is the particular location of these dreams. The vast majority of them are in two settings: one atop our grassy hill where I lived as a child in pastoral Sitkum in a little, pink stick-built house surrounded by myrtle trees; the other a two-story porched house set amongst towering trees where a middle-school friend lived at the end of our lane in Eugene. As I write that line I realize I visualize these same locations while reading. The plantation at Tara is at the Eugene location in my mind. Think about your dream locales peeps. Do you have primary locations where dreams occur? I’d love to hear your thoughts. The other night my dream took me to the seashore but through a curious landscape shape shift, now an ocean cove butted up to the Sitkum grassy hill. The actual ocean was just beyond a peninsula, which one could reasonably expect to protect the cove from br...

From the time he was a very small boy he had a recurring dream. More familiar each time, he finds himself in a residential area in unknown city. He is confused because he is alone, walking on a sidewalk on a street lined with hovering and somehow big menacing houses, late at night, catching glimpses of the moon as scudding clouds cross the night sky. Fog billows and condenses around street lamps glowing dim then bright in wafts of mist. He’s not allowed to be out at after dark and he is certainly not permitted to be wandering unfamiliar city streets alone. He is very frightened but continues walking. He notices a twisted, wickedly speared wrought iron fence next to the sidewalk, looks up and sees a square multi-storied brick house fronted with many darkened windows, a column lined vestibule centered between them. Trees are creaking and groaning in the breeze. Gazing at the house his feelings of foreboding escalate to terror. He knows something bad is about to happen. Something really, ...