21 years!

When my husband and I started dating we were young and in college. At one point in time, during that intense, passionate, infatuation stage of the relationship, I was working on an intense, passionate study of Marc Chagall for one of my classes. What timing! To this day I cannot see a Marc Chagall painting or print without getting all hot and bothered. Where you might see violin playing goats, giant chickens and random floating people I see the translation of true passion and romance.

Imagine a man who would contort himself like this just for you.

My husband, without much provocation, is still able to manage it. I am not gifted with fancy enough prose to express my affection for my husband, but I am gifted with the physical presence of my husband. For that I am eternally grateful.

Our marriage is now old enough to drink alcohol. Happy anniversary beloved! XXOO.

I'm Living in a Paper Jungle

Remember the book "Holes" by Louis Sachar. It was also a MAJOR MOTION PICTURE. Well, the plot involved adolescent boys at a camp for delinquents who dug holes to build their character. Miles and miles and miles of holes. I am working on my own novel. The plot involves a middle aged housewife with no discernible system of organizing the reams of paper that flow through the average household. I'm going to call it "Piles". I'd say, look for it at a bookstore near you, but the manuscript has already become one with the the schoolwork, rabies certificates, bank statements, and doodles.

“I write down everything I want to remember. That way, instead of spending a lot of time trying to remember what it is I wrote down, I spend the time looking for the paper I wrote it down on.” - Beryl Pfizer