When Dixie Dew's beloved baby sitter up and went to heaven, I found myself in a quandary: What was I going to do about child care when I traveled?
For many years now, Thanksgiving has been my favorite holiday. It has always been a day of joyful gathering of family at my house, accented with favorite foods, merry fellowship and a time to reflect on our blessings. I have always looked forward to Thanksgiving. This year I don't. Oh, I've tried to talk myself into not letting it be overshadowed by what has come and gone over the past year, mainly what has gone ...
My brother-in-law, Rodney, the wizard of wisecracks in our family, was sitting at the island in my kitchen, watching as I put away food from a Sunday school get-together.
When I was a child and given to daydreaming as children often are, I dreamed of what I would be when I grew up. I wanted to be strong, courageous, glamorous and well-traveled. And more than anything, I wanted to tell stories.
Publisher's Weekly, a trade publication for the book publishing industry, is always full of interesting tidbits. Annually, it publishes the number of books sold for each title that sold over 100,000 copies in one year. I am always interested to see how these numbers shape up.
A woman, over the course of her life, will learn who she can shop with and who she can't. There are friends who will tell you that everything looks good on you, when it doesn't. There are other friends who will tell that nothing looks good on you, when it does. There are friends who will want to shop in places too pricey for your pocketbook. There are other friends who will want to shop ...
Now that Mama's gone, it seems pertinent that someone step up and take her place. Or try to, anyway. Regarding the kind of life that Mama had, I think I'd like to step up and volunteer to turn into Mama.
Karen is always full of advice, even that which I don't desire or necessarily need. Like the other day. "I have a good piece of advice for you," she began in one of our daily conversations that includes vital information like how many pieces of fried chicken Dixie Dew ate at Mama's or how her kids are not practicing piano. She called me up, I answered the phone and it all began with those words.
As though it was just yesterday, not the too-many-years-to-count that it really was, I can hear my daddy clearly. He'd pull back his shoulders, raise an eyebrow and point his finger at me - always with great meaning - and say, "Little girl, I'm about to learn you a thing or two."
A while back, Mama, Louise, Rodney and I visited with some good friends of ours up in the mountains.
There is an art to making fried green tomatoes. Unfortunately, too many restaurant cooks are artless. They think they can when they can't. It's a risk sometimes to order fried green tomatoes from a menu. This I have learned the hard way.
It has taken me all the years - proving that you can always learn important new things - to realize how sensitive men can be. I get twice as much mail from men who have been offended over something I've written - it always has to do with something that pertains to what they perceive as their manhood - than I get from women over anything.
Not too long ago, I met a nice guy, a renewing of an old friendship actually, and I tried to fall in love with him. I tried but I couldn't.
When I heard there was going to be an auction of "Gone With The Wind" memorabilia, there was no doubt that I was going. Too, I knew just the person to join me in the caper.
To New York City, once I went to do a photo shoot for the cover of a book. It was less than a week after the 9/11 attacks, the original shoot date having been scheduled for Sept. 12, then postponed for reasons now too well known to all mankind. The photographers' studio was in a wood-floored, brick-walled loft located only a few blocks east of the smoldering ruins of the World Trade Center. Outside, the ...
It happened recently: The 20th anniversary of the death of stock car racer Davey Allison. Maybe you remember him. Maybe you don't.
Tink had been in Los Angeles for a week so that morning before his plane left LAX, it occurred to me that a good, wifely thing to do would be to welcome him back to the Rondarosa with a home-cooked meal.
If New Year's is a time to regroup and look toward the upcoming year, then Thanksgiving is a time to gather and reflect on the year that has passed.
We had a funeral at church the other day which was not unusual.
She was not a pretty woman in the days of her youth. Her lips were too thin, her forehead too high and her eyes so round they seemed to bulge into the lens of the glasses she wore.
For years, I blamed it on those richly royal blue, suede high-heel pumps. The ones with the ridiculously tall, spiked heel and absurdly pointed toe. I was 22 when I bought them, and 36 when I donated them to the Salvation Army.
The woman looked over the selection of books, picked up four and smiled.
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