This cross-stitched poem was made for my mom by a neighbor, and then just recently given to me for my birthday (thanks, Mom!). I love it: As an incurable copy editor* (with a particular loathing for gratuitous apostrophes), however, I feel compelled to compose a few lines of my own: An Editor’s Prayer Give me […]
“If what I say resonates with you, it is merely because we are both branches of the same tree.” ― W. B. Yeats
The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough. ~ Rabindranath Tagore Photo by my lovely and talented friend Margaux. Face paint by my charming and equally talented husband.
Swing Song Here I go up in my swing Ever so high. I am the King of the fields, and the King Of the town. I am the King of the earth, and the King of the sky. Here I go up in my swing… Now I go down. A. A. Milne, Now We Are Six
Oh, the thumb-sucker’s thumb May look wrinkled and wet And withered, and white as the snow, But the taste of a thumb Is the sweetest taste yet (As only we thumb-suckers know). :: Shel Silverstein, “Thumbs”
DON’T TELL ME Please don’t tell me I should hug, Don’t tell me I should care. Don’t tell me just how grand I’d feel If I just learned to share. Don’t say, “It’s all right to cry,” “Be kind,” “Be fair,” “Be true.” Just let me see YOU do it, Then I just might do it too. […]
When our firstborns were toddling into their second year, my friends and I discussed how weird it is that all kids learn that slightly deranged, fire-coming-out-of-those-sweet-baby-blues way of saying “MINE!” somewhere between twelve and eighteen months. Even the kids who aren’t in daycare and don’t have older siblings somehow pick it up somewhere and all […]
When I was down beside the sea A wooden spade they gave to me To dig the sandy shore. My holes were empty like a cup. In every hole the sea came up, Till it could come no more. At the Sea-Side :: Robert Louis Stevenson
Usually I put up a pic AND a quote … this time, the pic IS the quote, as seen on the wall at the Children’s Museum of Phoenix during our visits there last weekend. Happy Friday!
Cowboys like smoky old pool rooms and clear mountain mornings, little warm puppies and children and girls of the night. Them that don’t know him won’t like him and them that do sometimes won’t know how to take him; he ain’t wrong, he’s just different, but his pride won’t let him do things to make […]