My Lovely Dwelling Place

The Eggnog Caper Have you ever wanted to not get out of bed?  On a quiet morning you think, “It’s relatively quiet.  Maybe no one will notice if I just stay in bed today.”  This is a delusional thought.  The only reason there is quiet at my house in the morning is because my sons’ stomachs haven’t woke them up yet.  The first thing heard is usually a dog barking or whining.  My room is on the main floor all the way on one side of the house.  The back door is downstairs where three boys sleep on the other side of the house.  Yet no one hears those dogs bark or whine but me.  The old lady who worked until midnight and averages six hours sleep on a good night is known to care for canine needs.  The robust, healthy males with nine hours under their belts could sleep until noon in a crowded basketball stadium that was on fire. Once I’ve braved the elements and fulfilled my furry friends’ expectations, I make some coffee.  With coffee in hand, I wander to the living room to read

I Remember Mama Everyone has a story.  What we do, how we see the world, how we react to our circumstances have a great deal to do with our story.  I’ve been thinking about my mom lately.  The things she used to do and say, her life – her story. She would have been ninety-two this year.  She didn’t have an easy life, maybe no one does.  She lived in perilous times, maybe we all do.  I remember an old radio on a shelf that my mom could tune to get French stations.  She would sing loud, with windows open so the neighbors could hear as she sang those French love songs.  The neighbors called her Frenchie, go figure. My mom was born in Le Havre, France.  She had a troubled childhood.  Her father committed a crime before she was born, so her early years were spent with her grandparents under a cloud of shame.  Later when her sister was born, she lived with her mother and step-dad.  She was resentful and gave them trouble galore.  She was strong-willed, mean, rebellious and defia