worm census

Emerging from the storm cellar finally after an endless winter here in Sharon, MA… the snow is finally gone and we’re getting reacquainted with our neighbors and the earth beneath our feet. The garden beckons and it’s time for the annual worm census. I didn’t even have to define what that was for the kids… Isaac was digging for worms the first chance he got and tearing Sydney away from dinner to show her what he found. “Get a good count, son!” I murmured over the mashed potatoes. It’s nice when you’ve got your farmhands so well-trained they’d rather work in the fields than eat dinner. This is my momentary daydream before re-engaging in the nightly battle over nutrition, homework and practicing piano. Continue reading

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Reno 911

as in short for renovation. But I’ll get to that brewing suburban adventure in a moment. First I had a scare earlier this month when I picked up my car from some relatively routine maintenance (something about preventing a wheel from falling off that sounded non-deferable), and immediately started hearing a drafty noise from the front passenger side. Continue reading

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social butterfly

On quite a roll this past month with seemingly a concert or show or holiday party to attend each week, including the now famed and cemented (like stars in a Hollywood sidewalk) Gentlemen’s Shopping Day… which is in danger of becoming the only time each year my oldest friends can all get together, life/family/work/geography having weakened our compatriotic glue. Continue reading

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Fantasmatron

Fellow fomenters,

Halloween winding down here on Lee Road where the Friedmans may have been the hit of the block party — Karen with the pizza and wagon full of spiked hot cider, yours truly with an irrepressible blonde wig and body language that said, “Here to party.” I had trouble staying in character though when I immediately lost track of both kids while Karen had run back to the house for something. The wig was a bit unkempt and the fake hair was constantly in my mouth and eliminating my peripheral vision. “My BAY-bies!!!” I screamed, stumbling when a high heel hit the storm drain grate. Continue reading

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people are people too

Fellow humans,

Well, summer draws unofficially to a close here as the kids start school tomorrow… I’m still having flashbacks to Syd’s back-to-school shopping trip to a tween store called Justice. Bubble gum pop videos piped onto flat screens, lots of glitter and hearts everywhere you looked… and not a place to lean much less sit down save for a long flat display of girl’s underwear from which I decided I should keep an appropriate distance. Continue reading

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hotfoot

Summer sweet and sunburned feet over here in southeastern MA, taking a couple days off before our nation’s independence day, when we celebrate life, liberty and the pursuit of 15 other countries who can play soccer better than we can… Continue reading

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sacre bleu

What’s the old Seinfeld line about lactose… he’s intolerant of it and will not stand for it? I may finally be sharing his conviction on that one. Yes, I stand here a bit wobbly in the knee, a survivor of an incident eerily similar to my ill-fated encounter with Johnny Rockets so many years back — some of you may still remember my cries of pain stuck in traffic on the Queensboro bridge, the wild-eyed rush through a fancy Italian restaurant to the “powder room” and later the loud assertions of what sort of “rockets” the restaurant chain title portended…
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