I swear I used to be able to write poetry once. Maybe not very good poetry, but actual poetry. This one, inspired by the Always (Proctor and...

I am holding half an acre Torn from the map of Michigan And folded in this scrap of paper Is a land I grew in Think of every town you...

“Why do I smirk so much?” Mavis asked. “I’m not a particularly smug or supercilious person. Why can’t I have a shy smile, or a fond smile, ...

For I don’t know how long I have been seeing this picture on Patheos when reading the several blogs I follow there. It looked interesting, ...

Things I write out the long way frequently online, and wish other people knew my abbreviations for: ICBWAT - I could be wrong about tha...

At least, it rained all morning long. Having just turned 67, I can be philosophical about rain on my birthday, but we had a lot of errand r...

The ironclad rule of Southern Ladyhood Hospitality, or so I have gleaned from polling everyone that I knew would agree with me, is that if ...