I'm a trained journalist who now dreams of writing fiction.
Holiday Kitchen Secrets
Just a pinch. A cup or so. A handful of that. Whatever looks about right. After-Thanksgiving dinner table discussions at my in-laws’ house invariably settles into one familiar conversation.
Several people tried to talk to me after tonight's volleyball game. I wasn't mad or somehow irritated by them. I was just a bit in my feels, and didn't feel much like conversation.
A Spark of Magic
Amelia’s town was magic. Or cursed, depending on how you looked at it. The town had a fixed border in all directions, one that ran along paved county highways; through thick hedges and briars; atop fields dotted with cows and clover; across the rocky stream where teenagers gathered for picnics and late night parties.
Full disclaimer ahead of this story: My youngest daughter's name is Scout, but it also isn't. Actually, her given name is Sydney. And while a lovely name, "Sydney" is only really used by her grandparents and when I really need to get her attention in a loud voice.
August was the cruelest of months. Throughout the years, the month had become a source of constant and expected disappointment for Charlotte despite the fact that it should have given her some of the happiest moments on the calendar.
Ella Grace and our Other Southern Neighbors
Anna Catherine. Mary Louise. Bobbie Jean. If you live in the South, these are probably your neighbors. Or your grandmothers.
A Piece of my Memories
One of the first things I wanted after giving birth to my second daughter was a piece of cake. The cake was called Chocolate Lasagna, offered back in the 1990s by a popular chain restaurant. While pretty to look at, it wasn’t really that fancy; it was simple, in fact, with 5-6 layers of dark chocolate cake interspersed with buttercream frosting and topped with white chocolate shavings.