It’s a different world here, with amazing sunsets and moments of unexpected beauty...

"Another parental milestone has been reached in this year of lasts (which, fortunately, also means a corresponding year of firsts, just different ones): last night I made my last school lunch sandwich. Twelve years of sandwiches in a sea of packed lunches…"

The woman bent over, peering into the combination stroller/pram, saying soft things the way a person does with a tiny baby. She straightened, and with shining eyes looked at me intently, saying, “He’s a blessing. Give thanks for him every day because he’ll be grown before you know it.” To be honest, she scared me a little, but I’ve never forgotten her, and I can still almost picture her face. Shoulder length brown hair, slender build, maybe mid-to-late fifties. Her children, I assumed, were grown. She had a story, anyway, one that involved longing and lost childhood...

Our hearts are full. Broken bodies; broken souls. The dog block is in the dog door because there is no dog to go in and out. All day long...

I’m a worrier, someone who tends to overanalyze things, weighing the risks versus the benefits. This is not a trait that makes me happy. (I don’t always think things through, though. I did jump on Andrew’s skateboard a few months ago, meeting the sidewalk, face first. That was unfortunate). But mostly I’m a thinker. I don’t like this because it limits me, and I have to psyche myself up to do/try new things. After my first bout with cancer, I’d tell myself: If you can get through that, you can do anything. But then I’d forget what I’d been through and have to give myself another pep talk...

The high school is small, the student body in shock, trying to grasp the death of a friend, their contemporary. I tried to grasp the cruel hand his parents have been dealt. But some things just are not possible to grasp. I looked into the eyes of the teachers and principal and saw the grief. We shared the understanding; no words needed to be spoken...

When does a mother (or father) stop worrying about their children? It’s a trick question. The answer is never. We never stop. It’s written in the job description (in invisible ink), and something a parent doesn’t get the full effect of until holding the newborn in their arms for the first time, looking into their eyes and thinking: I am going to love you for the rest of my life. And I will worry about you. My grandmother in her nineties worried about my mother. My mother worries about me. My mother-in-law worries about Steve (and me because that’s how she is)...

The past few years have been tough because of, well, reasons. We all have our rough patches, trials, terrible things that happen in our lives. Some of us deal with chronic pain. Some of us have children with physical or psychological difficulties. Some of us, while healthy, have lost jobs and are engaged in a constant struggle, figuring our bills on the back of the envelope, lining through necessary expenses that can’t be managed. Not now. Where can we cut? What do we do when there’s nothing left to cut? Some of us struggle with depression. We may have everything—money, a beautiful home, nice car— yet we struggle to fight through the blackness that descends. Those looking in from the outside don’t always get it...

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror—a pail of warm water, a wash cloth, pair of scissors, and a bottle of vitamin E oil. Slowly, I peel back a corner of foam tape. It doesn't hurt, not the first few millimeters. Then it does. It pulls at my skin, revealing red pain underneath. I grit my teeth and pull a little more, then cut the tape away, dab the skin with the wet cloth, then smooth a little oil over the area. And repeat…

This was a surprise since at my last appointment we discussed surgery in the new year, somewhere in January or February. Anxious to get these uncomfortable tissue expanders out, though, I found myself committing to a surgery date before I’d really had the time to process everything. My mouth said yes; my brain was all fuzzy…

With my debut novel’s recent publication as an ebook , I’ve received thousands (umm, a few) of questions from folks. For many, ebooks are newfangled, slightly scary, and a little mysterious. There are many misconceptions, and many of us are learning—especially those of us who aren’t, erm, techies.

I’ve been writing guest posts for my publisher’s blogs and reviewers’ blogs while leaving the StoryRhyme blog fairly unattended, which is bad because a blog left to its own devices will have the tendency to get into trouble...

I laughed a few times and chatted with the cute nurse who rolled my bed down the hallway to my room. Until she told me about “the transfer” -- me moving from one bed to the other. Picture, if you will, one of those cartoon moments when the character’s eyes pop out of their heads. I was that cartoon character…

1. When someone tells you they’re going to have a mastectomy/reconstruction, don’t tell them, “At least you’ll get a brand new pair of boobies!” or anything closely resembling this statement in a well-meaning attempt to cheer them up about a sucky situation. I’ve only told a handful of people so far, and I’ve already heard this nearly every time...

It is customary to do a year in review. First off, I will not enumerate the reasons why 2011 sucked. There's no need. And I really don't find it necessary to access the painful emotions brought about by the sorrows of the year. Not going to go there. This is my reflection, though, on some of the good things that happened in 2011 and my very recent -- as of December 29th, so it got in just under the wire -- good news...

Today, on the eve of what is another transition for our boy -- who now stands taller than I and whose feet are two and a half sizes larger than Husband's..? ..! -- I wax philosophical once more.

Here are some random thoughts from a mother whose son is about to be promoted from the eighth grade. I will try not to be too sappy, but no guarantees there...

There are no winners or losers.  It's the international community of writers--hundreds of thousands have signed up this year--cheering each other on.  The first couple of days were tough.  I already had my beginning, had introduced the main characters and the plot, but I had no idea where the story was going...

Follow Chance the Dog's insightful yet slightly stupid StoryRhyme Twitter Tweets...

7. Have drinks with umbrellas...

I have to admit, my blog has been gathering a bit of dust lately. I haven't been as diligent as I should be -- my writing energies have been focused elsewhere...

I love spring and its perfect weather, not too hot but not cold either. Just right for kicking back and finishing that book you've been reading. I have just a few more pages of Catcher in the Rye that I decided to re-read after J.D. Salinger's passing...

It took me back to my young self when it made such an impression on me. It's also a favorite of Husband's. Teen angst, class distinctions, unaware parents, rebellion, depression, sadness -- it's got everything a young person could ask for...

When I was a young girl, far-off relatives would send the family a fruitcake every year before Christmas, and every year it would sit in the middle of the dining room table untouched. In moments of desparation, I'd try to carefully extract the tiny bits of cake from the surrounding fruit and nuts only to end up frustrated, cursing it. But maybe a fruitcake is more than just a fruitcake...

Charlie, our middle schooler, brought home "Diary of a Wimpy Kid, a novel in cartoons" by Jeff Kinney the other day. I don't think I've ever seen him laugh so much at one book. Silly, gleeful laughter. But, many parents don't like this series. Why..?

Some of you sharp people out there have figured out that for the past few weeks, StoryRhyme.com has been putting up a picture of the week on the front page of our site. Husband scrolls through his collection and picks one that strikes his fancy. We'll see what the coming weeks will bring...

Yesterday, my mother-in-law was put under anesthesia and this robot removed the upper lobe of her left lung....

Fall feels like the possibility that something new and exciting is about to happen. There's something in the air. Even the color of the light is a little different. To make sense of this...

Somewhere along the line, a paradigm shift occurred in party giving from the old model of games, party hats, cake, and presents to throwing up a bouncer in the backyard (or the front -- ugh) and leaving the kids to fend for themselves while the adults sit around talking...

Update: The roof was raised (while I bit my nails nervously) and the rest project proceeded without incident until Husband injured himself (twice) on the final day of the build...

Monday, August 10, 2009 • This morning, I sat on the newly-installed floor and read the morning paper while Charlie counted the bumblebees making their way to the Angel Trumpets. The breeze was cool and lovely.  Charlie told me about the falcon he'd spotted a few minutes before...

We see the couple starting off as newlyweds and watched them age before our eyes. I thought of my own marriage and growing old with Husband...

Ash has fond memories of growing up with sugar cane everywhere. Sugar, theirs for the taking, all they had to do was cut it open (carefully avoiding the outer stalks with their razor-sharp edges)...

I was going to title this story "Big Dog and Little Dog" until Charlie, resident Captain Underpants scholar and expert, informed me that that was the title of a line of Dav Pilkey books. Well, live and learn...

Patience is a virtue when it comes to thrift store shopping, and as the Stones say, "You can't always get what you want." I have to say, though, we've been pretty lucky. We have great memories of great finds at the now-defunct BargainTown, including a two-foot tall authentic (made in Japan) Godzilla action figure...

A few days ago, Chance was doing some serious barking in the backyard. I thought maybe there were men working in the trees (the phone company), so I went out, only to find him, full of righteous indignation, barking at a jet that was leaving behind a very long contrail...

Once again we celebrated with family and friends at our annual Christmas party. Children and adults decorated ornaments, cookies, and a gingerbead house (which Husband had assembled the night before using brute determination)...

Growing up, part of our family tradition was going out every year to pick out a tree with Dad. I've kept up the tradition of fresh-cut trees until just two years ago. Lazy? Maybe a little. Now we have a beautiful (okay, well, it’s fine) artificial tree. All we need is a little pine air freshener and we're set.

Go on, vote. The poll’s right over there in the right sidebar...

Oh and if you have the time, share a Christmas Tree story..!

This holiday, take a deep breath and relax with some of our very own StoryRhyme.com helpful hints. Here's number 9: Don't serve that greenbean casserole with the canned mushrooms and shoestring onions because it's just gross...

First of all, we're way too cool for this catalog (or so I thought), yet it comes anyway...

Charlie made decorations and signs for everything including a "Chamber of Secrets" sign that he put on the toilet tank; a "Leaky Cauldron" sign for the kitchen; and a "Platform 9 3/4" sign that we hung at the front door to welcome guests. Our Chamber of Secrets and Leaky Cauldron signs remain to this day...

Yesterday, Charlie came home from school in a whirl of excitement, clutching a cardboard box. No one knew what happened to the poor thing, but Charlie, who has a reputation for being an animal saver, was sought out for his expertise...