Window Over The Sink

Quite honestly, I'm not sure when I wrote this, so if you've read it too recently to like reading it again, my apologies. The greatest gifts...the greatest reasons for Thanksgiving...are the people in our lives, and I'm so grateful for Aunt Nellie. She gave more richness to my life than I can ever explain. I'm posting today because tomorrow will start the annual Window Holidays Project, when I'll have a guest blogger every day I could get one between now and New Year's. I hop

There’s beauty in not being the loudest voice in the room. - Elizabeth Warden I knew that. Really, I did, but sometimes I forget it. Because I have firm convictions and firm views on politics and I might be a little too convinced that everyone wants to know my opinion on things. Reading this quote in a very wonderful essay about age just made me think about it and try to decide what to do about it. What we should do about it. Truthfully, I don't think I usually AM the loudest

I used the word passion lately in a manuscript. My daughter used it this week in conversation. Both references were to teachers. As a...

Because I have nothing this week and am a little embarrassed by how many reruns I've posted lately, I'm going to do what my friend Nan...

I apologize for my almost-absence last week. Like everyone else I know, I was battered and bruised by the grief of what has happened...

On my morning scroll through Facebook, I enjoyed the few messages and memes and funny graphics still allowed. I clicked on some news...

I was going to take this week off, because I didn't have it in me. Every school shooting, every senseless death of a child or staff member diminishes something in me as a mom and a nana, in who we are as a country. Although I believe in the power of prayer and the importance of hope, it gets harder every time. Every Single Time.

I wrote this in 2009. Yes, really. Sixteen years ago. I've used it since, I'm sure, but not recently that I recall. Some things, and how...

The first essay I ever had published was for the Peru Tribune. I think I was paid $5.00 for it. It was about abortion--from the point of...

I didn't know what seventy-five would look like, or how it would feel, or how it would sound. I didn't know what kind of food would taste...

This week, as I was heading south down State Road 25 toward Logansport, going 58 miles an hour and listening to E. Jean Carroll's Not My...

No, I don't always love them, by any means, but so many people miss "the old days." In their memories, they recall lightning bug nights,...

I was a poor kid. The obvious, everyone-knows-it poor. We didn't have plumbing, we lived in a little house that would have been small for...

In case this looks familiar ... This is from January of 2023. I'm using it again for three reasons. One is that I really like it. Two is...

Some of the Black Dog Writers - Valerie, Emma, Scott, Navi, Joe, and Brian Speaking of age, as I way too often do ... can you believe...

When I was a kid, I loved having dollar bills. Well, I loved having money at all, but I felt much richer with five ones than with a five....

Our wedding anniversary was Thursday. "How many?" said my sister-in-law in disbelief when I answered the annual question. Fifty-four...

I'm writing from what is for me a unique place right now, so I'll probably wear it out. Sorry, not sorry. As I've mentioned ad nauseum ,...

This is from 1991, the early years of the Window Over the Sink. It was the first Mother's Day column I ever wrote. It is still my...

It was interesting. I didn't have anything to say this morning. I know, I know, that has never stopped me before, but I seriously had...