My friend Julie was right: The blue, green, white and freckled brown shells slipped off the eggs like little socks. I’d called to ask if she had any eggs more than 3 weeks old because, any fresher, and you can’t remove the shells after you hard-boil them. Julie’s got something like 70 chickens, roaming freely… Continue reading The devil made me do it
In only 4 days, I got hornswoggled twice by restaurant salads. You’d think I’d have learned the first time when a signature chopped salad amounted to hundreds more calories and fat grams than I figured. But, nooooooo. Last night He Who Must Be Obeyed and I had a early light supper, meeting halfway between where… Continue reading No fair!
“Pretty soon I won’t be able to see you,” said my husband when I told him the scales showed 26 pounds gone in seven months. “Let me hug my disappearing friend,” said my friend when I stopped to pick up green and brown eggs for Sunday’s church-wide picnic. And this, of course, is one of… Continue reading The invisible woman
My poems are in jars I keep saying I’m going to do another kind of writing The kind that involves stanzas and tropes But then the strawberries come in at Howards’. In the silken sunrise One picker’s pink sweats, another’s shirt And the ripening berries Stand out like traffic lights. The sweet smell in the… Continue reading My poems are in jars
I’m wearing a pair of size 22W shorts and they’re uncomfortably tight. I know, just know, I’m not this big. I’m the one who didn’t order two summer dresses this week because the smallest size available was 1X. Dang. Of course, that’s one of the problems we chubby people have — we don’t recognize/acknowledge how… Continue reading Bigger than I like to think
Twenty-four pounds gone — halfway to my wedding weight of 1984 — and my success to this point and forward depends so much on what we pull from the garden and from the piles of local produce at the farmers’ markets. This week it was the last of our spring broccoli and our entire kohlrabi… Continue reading Joy in the garden
Mike and Trudy Howard haven’t yet put up the strawberry signs along US 901, but I called yesterday and they’d picked a few gallons, still only $8 each. So spring begins, truly, madly, deeply. I ate three of the fist-sized berries on the drive home and added a cup of scarlet slices to last night’s… Continue reading Strawberries, sweet strawberries