I had Mrs. Ruby Miner for spelling in the seventh grade. Besides spelling words, we defined, pronounced, and wrote them neatly. Stepping into Room 217 usually brought on a slight spell of jitters, even for this decent speller. I can only imagine the palpitations had I not been an attentive…
We're Not in Kansas Anymore - a Column by Helen Baldwin
I helped my husband, Randy, pluck raspberries from our bountiful bushes the other evening. Shortly after sampling our red, squishy haul, I removed my Crocs to get ready for a shower. Whoa. My eyeballs popped when I spied what looked like blood on the bottom of my foot.
Parents, teachers, and pet owners routinely witness the unmistakable impact of full moons on all realms of behavior. Insert wolf howl. As a rapidly aging adult, I can vouch for this monthly phenomenon’s continued ability to “scramble the circuits” in every capacity. For some bizarre, unknown…
Birthdays, including my own awesome one last month, and other notable days — Mother’s Day, Memorial Day, school year’s end — dot the May calendar. June’s tally of memorable days is no slouch, either. My husband, Randy, and I married in June (47 years ago!), as did both…
While life around here resembles a roller coaster most of the year, the frenzy ramps up in May as it always has. From my days of wrapping up classes as a student, to wrapping up IEPs as a teacher, to keeping up with end of school year activities…
My 3-year-old grandson, James, adores his MomMom (me!) and treats me like royalty. He gently places a pillow behind my back on the couch and insists on propping up the footrest before covering me with a blanket so I’ll be cozy. He makes sure I’m fed well and…
Just over two years after our baby Jeffrey died from spinal muscular atrophy, my brother-in-law, Steven, passed away. My husband, Randy, our two children, Matthew and Katie, and I made the long drive back to our old stomping grounds in Texas, for our first funeral of a loved one since…
As teens, my husband, Randy, and his brother kept bees in their family’s tiny backyard. Way back then, the protective gear was flimsy at best, and they both eventually sought less painful hobbies. The opening of a new local beekeeping store just before Randy’s retirement a few years…
Growing up, about the closest I got to yardwork was burying some poor mussels I’d brought back one summer from a family vacation on the Texas coast. Somehow I thought that hauling a handful or two of the already smelly critters in a shoebox of sand all the way back…
BARK! BARK! WOOF! WOOF! The guest staying in our rental cabin had come down to the house. Our dogs, Honey and Maple, were banished to the kitchen until our guest returned to her car after a brief visit. I sat down to get back to work. BARK! BARK! WOOF! WOOF!…
