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I had the half-altered picture from 1992 on the screen. I also had displayed a paragraph from Part 2 of The Very Real New and Improved Me -- the monologue in response to Hemingway, who at the moment was occupying my celadon chenille-draped computer chair...
I work at Artella, on The Artella Daily Muse. Artella is more than a job to me: It's a support network. It's like-minded spiritual seekers. It's friends. It's family. It's home. My husband will never understand this. He keeps saying...
How...? How indeed. Did I mention my hair used to be black? Black as an Indian's, or a Latina's, in my youth. I spent many a moment barefoot in little corner stores, jumping in surprise at politely but loudly proffered aid: "CAN... I... HELP...
I'm visiting my son's family tonight. Before my just-turned-five-yesterday grand-daughter was put to bed, I kissed her and said, "I hope my abhorrent, annoying snoring doesn't keep you awake." She's a brilliant and loving child...
This family at church had befriended us. We couldn't believe it! They must have searched hard to find a reason to like us, since there was such a huge cultural gap. See, they weren't just a family -- they were a real family. In our world, a real...
I've always felt that the opinions, emotional stability, and happiness of other people are pretty much my responsibility. Psychologists say it's typical of an only child, an understandable characteristic developed when you're raised as an...