Learning to Navigate (Connecticut Muse Magazine, Spring 2013)

I swallow hard, trying to work up courage.  My car sits in the garage and I take the passenger seat, feeling like I’m climbing onto an unsafe carnival ride.  I look to my seventeen year old son who’s driving and make sure my seat belt’s fastened.  “Okay, let’s go,” I say, trying to sound chipper.  Patrick shoves the gear shift in reverse.  The car jumps.  Off we go, backing out too fast.  The first “slow down” comes out of my mouth.

A Peak in Provence: Part 1 (Seven Part Series: In the Know Traveler, September 2012)

                                      

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

I must confess, after signing on for this trip to France, I had a case of buyer's remorse.  I had vowed to do something exciting, different, meaningful this summer so when I saw the invitation to a Provence writer's retreat, I leapt.

Continued on this link...http://www.intheknowtraveler.com/archives/10026

A Peak in Provence: Part 2 (In the Know Traveler, September 2012)

Thursday, June 21, 2012

After breakfast of croissants and coffee, I explore Collobrieres. Around every corner I gasp at huge, medieval wooden doors, thick wrought iron gates, lavender gardens.  I meander down side streets no wider than ten feet.  Red geraniums sit in window boxes, aged wooden shutters lie against rough walls painted in blues, yellows and greens.  I happen down a narrow side street and find a memorial of flowers in a doorway. 

Continued...http://www.intheknowtraveler.com/archives/10045

A Peak in Provence: Part 3 (In the Know Traveler, September 2012)

Friday, June 22, 2012

After breakfast I hike the roads overlooking the village, thanking God for Zumba as I make my way up steep, windy hills.  As usual the vistas are both breath-taking and quaint, like a Cezanne painting. 

I move along and feel a funny contentment.  No doubt some of it comes from being unshackled from the washing machine and dirty dishes.  But it’s also the air, the food, the sun.  I think of the people back home who would love this trip and know I’m lucky.
Continued...http://www.intheknowtraveler.com/archives/10058

A Peak in Provence: Part 4 (In the Know Traveler, September 2012)

Saturday, June 23, 2012

This morning my I-phone alarm sounds off at a strange time and I reach over to investigate.  But the alarm tone I chose a year ago, church bells, is not coming from this device.  It’s coming from outside my window, the call to Saturday mass.  I've grown to love this ancient form of communication, so different from the modern world with I-pads, texting and 24-hour news.  Continued...http://www.intheknowtraveler.com/archives/10093

A Peak in Provence: Part 5 (In the Know Traveler, September 2012)

A Peak in Provence: Part 5 (In the Know Traveler, September 2012)

Sunday, June 24, 2012

I have an awful confession.  I'm ready to kill the ducks.  Every night there's some canard catastrophe outside my window where they all quack incessantly like car alarms.  I have no idea what's happening and don't begrudge their avian drama, but does it have to be at 3:00 a.m.? 
 Continued...http://www.intheknowtraveler.com/archives/10144

A Peak in Provence: Part 6 (In the Know Traveler, October 2012)

Monday, June 25, 2012

After breakfast I hike into the hills behind town.  I pass wildflowers and the occasional burro.  The roads are steep and curvy but I get to see another part of this world, large houses tucked behind stone walls and wrought iron gates.  Many have expansive patios facing the patchwork of vineyards beyond.  I can’t decide which one should be my dream house.

Continued...http://www.intheknowtraveler.com/archives/10180

A Peak in Provence: Part 7 (In the Know Traveler, October 2012)

For the first time I hold my own in a little shop, buying souvenirs.  The man behind the counter is patient, and I sort of understand him as he sort of understands me.  I know if I stayed longer, the language would begin to seep in.  It already has.

I walk the streets alone for the first time, silently saying goodbye to the people in the cafes.  A stooped old woman walks by with a cane.  "Bon jour madam," I say.  She stops, responding with a wide, toothless smile.  "Bon jour madam."

          continued...http://www.intheknowtraveler.com/archives/10436

Coming up Shortz at the Crossword Contest (Westport News, February 2012)

Imagine sitting in a crowded room with 120 people doing something so torturous, so grueling, you start to question your sanity.  This happened to me recently when I attended the annual Crossword Puzzle Tournament at the Westport Library.
Continued on this link:
http://www.westport-news.com/default/article/Guest-Column-Coming-up-Shortz-on-crosswords-3321540.php

The Place I Go (Connecticut Muse Magazine, Autumn 2011)

 

There’s a place I go, ducking in while others work or tend their children.  I have mixed emotions about this pastime, this guilty pleasure fast becoming a habit.  Even a few months ago, I shunned it as unnecessary and frivolous.  Now I can’t seem to stay away.  Just the other day I entered and asked for my usual.

Summer of Pineapple and Tuna Fish (Connecticut Muse Magazine, Summer 2010)

Some people don’t believe in aging.  My grandmother was one of them.  I realized this as I stood in the Hyannis Bus Station one afternoon in June of 1974.  I was seventeen, had just graduated high school and grateful my parents had agreed to let me stay with Nana for the summer, my first time away from home.  Five minutes passed, ten, but no sign of my grandmother.  I had started to think she had mixed up the dates when across the station I heard  “Law!”  Only one person called me by that nickname.

I Flunked the Holiday House Tour (Westport News, December 2009)

I Flunked the Holiday House Tour (Westport News, December 2009)

I've always had a dicey relationship with Christmas.  In terms of life's pleasures, its somewhere between magical fantasy and a triathalon.  Dragging a full-grown tree in and out of my home each year, schlepping through endless stores, and hearing loops of Madonna's 'Santa Baby' are slightly more fun than drinking old eggnog.  So last year when asked to have my home included in our town's annual Holiday Open House, I was torn.
Continued on this link:
http://www.westport-news.com/default/article/I-flunked-the-Holiday-House-Tour-281201.php

"Just One More Thing" (Second Place Winner, Summer Fiction Contest, Connecticut Muse Magazine, 2007)

Both cops looked to be a few years younger than Susan, maybe in their mid-thirties.  They stood on her doorstep.  The taller one asked if her husband was home and when she said no, he produced a search warrant and asked if they could come in.  “Of course,” she answered.

They were big men and filled up her large entry hall with its marble floors and sweeping staircase.  Officer Landers spoke the most.  He had an open Irish face with ginger-colored hair and china blue eyes.  His cheeks looked ruddy and chapped.

My Mixed Marriage (Connecticut Post, Woman Wise Column, April 2001)

My husband and I have a mixed marriage.  No, I’m not talking race, religion, or politics.  But I am talking about a difference so pervasive, so challenging, so disturbing that at times we’ve wondered if our relationship could stand the strain.

Survivor is for Sissies (County Kids Magazine, 2000)

I have an idea for a new reality show like Survivor.  It’s called Kids.  In this show, the contestant must spend one week alone in a home with two children.  There can be no school, babysitters, or help of any kind.  The contestant must provide food, clothing, baths, sleep, and entertainment twenty four hours a day for seven days.  At the end of the week, whoever’s left standing wins.

Adventures in Journal Keeping (H.E.R.S. Magazine, Spring 2000)

 

I remember the moment I became a journal keeper.  Sitting in a windowless cubicle, my in-box piled high with two feet of paper, lay-outs, project folders, and message slips, the phone ringing incessantly with urgent deadlines and frazzled co-workers, I knew I had to do something fast.

Confessions of a Soccer Mom (Easton Courier, December 1999)

At the start of each soccer season I take the same vow.  I will cheerfully bring my child to every practice.  I will cheerfully attend every game, no matter how early, no matter how cold and drizzly, no matter how much I’d rather be under the covers.  I’ll cheerfully grin and bear that picture day has been moved to 8:00 a.m. Saturday morning.  I’ll cheerfully remember to bring juice and oranges when it’s my turn. 

But then something happens.  By game five my good intentions deflate like used party balloons.  Battle fatigue sets in.

Why I Like Being a Mom, County Kids Magazine, 1992

I know what you’re thinking.  Here’s another preachy new parent about to tell me how her kid changed her life.  Believe me, I thought the same thing.  When our friends came over, zealous gleams in their eye, laden with babies, diaper bags, strollers, infant seats and other tonnage, my husband and I cringed.  

Then something happened.  Maybe it was turning 30, then 31.  Where I used to love my fast-paced advertising job, now I found myself daydreaming of motherhood in production meetings.  I had gotten where I wanted to be in business.  I’d even picked up a Master’s degree, yet something was missing.

Where I once viewed moms and housewives as hopelessly dull, I found myself studying them in supermarkets, at get-togethers… everywhere.  How nice, I thought, to have a child look up adoringly at you, not to mention getting to watch Mary Poppins again.  Slowly I began to realize something.  I wanted to be a Mom.

About a year after this realization my husband and I were blessed with a baby boy.  For some reason I assumed that upon having a child I’d see a celestial light circling my head like a woman in a Renaissance painting.  But the dramatic transformation never came.    

Instead, the difference shows in little things.  I don’t mind being woken at 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday or doing everything with one hand while my son, Patrick, squirms in the other.  I never thought I’d rejoice over a kid’s day-late bowel movement or not mind having every piece of clothing I own stained with formula. 

My son shows me life is good, there’s hope.  Perhaps he’ll find a cure for cancer or a peaceful solution to war.  Maybe he’ll just be a good husband and father.  Watching the happy faces of my family as they play with him is more than enough to make me proud.

I’m thankful for my time in the business world.  I made great friends and learned a lot.  Someday I may go back.  But one thing is certain.  I won’t be the same and that's what I like about being  a Mom.