Tag Archives: writing



I’m loving my new book: Ravenous: A food lover’s journey from obsession to freedom by Dayna Macy.  Here’s an excerpt:

“Salt, grease, tasteless pulp in my mouth,” he says, koan-like. “I can never eat

enough corn chips to be satisfied because there’s no there there. And if I

wasn’t paying attention, I’d keep eating them to try to get what isn’t there.

“Compare this to an orange,” he says, “which is sweet and tastes like sunshine.

When you taste something, don’t only let your mouth respond. Let your heart

respond. There’s a lot of food in this world that doesn’t have much to offer

your heart.”

Wishing you sunshine in your stomach, in your heart, and in your world!  🙂

The dying art of good penmanship

Source: google.ca via Karyl on Pinterest



I wish I could have handwritten this post!  I have decided to work on improving my penmanship.  It has gotten sloppy due to laziness and lack of practice.  It’s a beautiful thing to write beautifully and it’s not all about content.  I love pictures, and good penmanship is a beauty to behold.

Here’s a good article I found on handwriting: 8 Easy Tips to Improve Your Handwriting.

I just learned that National Penmanship Day takes place on my son’s birthday: January 23rd!

The beauty of young families

Source: digital-photography-school.com via Michelle on Pinterest 

Last weekend I saw about 3 sets of beautiful young families.  When I say young families I mean parents who are in their 20s with little ones in strollers.  There is something so sweet about them.  The parents are so young themselves and they seem happy and energetic.  They seem undaunted by the great undertaking of raising a family.  They have not yet gone through the stormy teenage years and beyond.  I know that I am romanticizing here.  That’s ok.  I know these two young parents are tired and scared.  But what I saw last weekend was a glimpse of joy and fun and being untethered.

Giving books wings


I am not a collector of books.  I am a giver away of books. Sure, there are a few I keep: the odd poetry book, reference books, books of art and craft, bibles and prayer books, language books. I love cookbooks. But what I read most are novels and I don’t often reread novels. Novels have wings. They are meant to fly and soar. While I’m reading a book I’m always thinking of who I know that might like it. When I finish it I give it away and I don’t want it back. In that way books travel and soar and I like to be a part of that.


The palpability of handwritten letters


Why do handwritten letters mean so much more than emails?  Is it because you are actually touching the thing your friend touched?  Is it because it took more effort than just typing and pressing send?  Is it because it’s historical and old?  Why?


I said blogroll not cinnamon roll!

Source: myrecipes.com via Gret on Pinterest


Just like cinnamon rolls, your blogroll should not be too big to eat.  Overly long blogrolls are intimidating and tiresome.  I would like to keep my blogroll to 10 blogs but that is difficult.  At the moment I have 13.  The number of blogs, and what I choose to feature, changes from time to time.  It’s a fluid process, like life.

My blogroll is a combination of blogs I like, blogs I think you might like, and blogs that are on subjects of interest to me.  It’s not just blogs I follow.  Sometimes I use my blogroll for myself.  For example, there may be a blog that I can’t easily follow (it’s not on WordPress or Facebook).  So I put it on my blogroll for easy access.   I try to update my blogroll from time to time.  My tastes change.  Blogs die.  😦  I hope you will a moment to check out the blogs that look interesting to you and in doing so maybe fin a new blog friend or two.  🙂

Mistaken for a Muslim Woman

Last night I was at the airport waiting for my driver.  It was late and very cold.  I was coming from Memphis where it had been about 30 degrees warmer.  I put on every piece of clothing I had in my bag and covered my head with a scarf. While waiting, there was a Muslim-looking woman.  I say Muslim-looking because on that night I was a Muslim-looking woman too.  She smiled at me as if to say, “Hi sister.”  I smiled back but felt a little uncomfortable.  I wasn’t trying to look Muslim but I was aware that I did before I even saw her.  Should I tell her that I’m not Muslim?  It was silly.  Who cares. She smiled at me. I smiled back.  We are sisters.  I am Christian.  She is Muslim, probably, but who knows for sure.

The picture above is of me in Morocco about 6 years ago.  I can pass for many things: Puerto Rican, Dominican, Ethiopian, Muslim.  I am none of those things.  I am Christian, of African descent (most likely West African), English, Irish, German and French.  Most importantly, I am human.