For someone who had a serious phobia with technology, I’ll admit I’ve come a long way. Two years ago I used to check my email once or twice a week. I didn’t know how to surf the net. I didn’t know what Google was, and was too embarrassed to ask people what they meant when they said, “I Googled it”. I didn’t know what a blog was, or why someone would want one. I learned about Facebook when Betty White hosted SNL. She revealed that she finally learned what Facebook was, and concluded it was a “huge waste of time”. She delivered that little pearl of wisdom while she worked her dimples for the camera. That was good enough for me.     Then slowly, things began to change. Against my better judgement I got a web site. I started checking...

    When I wrote my last post, I told a story about how much I hate flying, and how that changed when I recently flew back East to surprise my niece and nephew. I developed my aversion to flying during 2010, when I kept flying back and forth from Denver to Pittsburgh to help support my parents during the last year of their life as they were battling the end stages of the same disease.     During that time, I was happy to be able to be with them, and give them the help and support they needed. However, each trip took a little bit more out of me as I watched them go through the process of dying. At the Denver airport, I had no idea what awaited me at the other end. At the Pittsburgh airport, I would have major anxiety over leaving them and worry if I had passed on all of the pertinent information...

    I hate to fly. The entire process of going to the airport, going through security, getting on the train, waiting at the gate, and sitting immobilized in those ridiculous seats for hours on end makes me crazy. The overwhelming press of humanity unnerves me. Once you finally land, you get to anxiously wait for your bag to appear at baggage claim and hope that it didn’t inadvertently land in another city. Then you get to repeat the sequence to return home, exhausted and jet lagged.     I suppose wouldn’t mind flying so much if I got to go somewhere fun, or have a relaxing vacation. I haven’t had a vacation in over five years. I’m probably about due for one, or at least the chance to do something fun, spontaneous, and memorable. And then last weekend I did just that....

  My Dad sure could ski. He discovered skiing when he was in his late thirties. He always loved the cold and snow, so dancing on the slopes was a natural fit for him. He taught me and my sisters how to ski when I was nine years old. As a member of the National Ski Patrol, his entire family could ski free. Pretty handy, since he had four kids at the time. Number five was still just a hope, a promise, and a twinkle in his eye.     We went skiing as a family. My Mom hated the cold and the snow as much as my Dad loved it, but my Dad helped her battle the cold by introducing her to hot spiced wine. She would come along, rub our feet and warm our clothes by the huge fireplace by the picture window when we came in for a break. She also had an enormous bag of food for us as well. We occasionally...

    It’s hard to believe that I once was a pretty good seamstress. As a teenager, one of my sisters and I made all of our own clothes. And they were beautiful. Our clothes were not home made, they were hand made. There is a difference. Not only did we make our own clothes, but we made them for the entire family. From play clothes, school clothes, Sunday clothes and formal wear, we made them all. We even made our Mom’s maternity clothes when she was expecting our youngest sister, but that’s another story in itself.       My mother helped us with our sewing. She wasn’t a seamstress, but she was meticulous about the handwork, finishing, and all of the details that would otherwise slow us down. Between the three of us, we had a regular conveyor belt going in our dining...

    When I was a little girl, my favorite book of all times was “The Gateway to Storyland.” It was full of wonderful (and frightening) stories that captured my heart and my imagination. The book was one of the many presents that Santa Claus gave me and my sisters for Christmas when I was two years old. I loved that book. Of course, my favorite story was “The Sugar Plum Tree.” I can still recite that poem by heart, which I think is pretty remarkable, since most of the time I can’t remember what I had for breakfast or if I locked the front door. I still have the book, and it is the most treasured possession that I have from my childhood. I have kept it in a special place in a dresser drawer for years.     A few days ago, I was reminded of the story book when I...

It’s late April. The birds are singing, the grass is green, the weather is beautiful. And I’m down in the dumps. Yesterday I took my bad mood outside to sit in the yard and listen to the birds. I realized it was a glorious day and I shouldn’t miss out on it, in spite of my low spirits. At least the birds were in chipper mood. I settled back and closed my eyes. The breeze shifted and the smell of lilacs swept over me. The smell of spring and the feel of the warm sun quickly began to improve my mood. I started to smile as I drifted off and somehow made my way back to April two years ago. I was visiting my parents. The weather was absolutely beautiful, the trees were in full bloom, and the colors were glorious. With the change of season, and at my mother’s request, I...

    When I was a little girl, I did what a lot of kids do out of interest and curiosity when the opportunity arises. I took a hairpin and stuck it in an electrical outlet. I wasn’t a fast learner in a lot of life’s experiences, mostly because of my incomparable stubbornness. I figured if something didn’t go my way the first time I tried it, I’d do it again until I got the outcome I wanted.     However, the shock I got was a pretty immediate and lasting learning experience. I never did that again. I also learned that the cute and sparky little fellow that represented our power company had a mean streak. And one heck of a bite. For years, we all remembered the day that Reddy Kilowatt bit me.            Here it is, over fifty years later, and I am having electrical issues...

Growing up in Western Pennsylvania was pretty special. All of the holidays were celebrated with great enthusiasm. It didn’t matter if it was a national holiday, state holiday, school holiday, personal holiday, birthday, or religious holiday. We celebrated them all. Being of Eastern European descent, our family celebrated Easter with the ethnic and cultural traditions of our religion and our heritage. However, we also got to experience the other part of the Easter holiday, the Easter Bunny. And we enjoyed the decadence of all the chocolate Easter bunnies, chocolate eggs, jelly beans and marshmallow peeps. Of course, the Easter Bunny is famous for leaving baskets for each child at every house he visits. But, he never left baskets for me and my sisters. We must have been last on his “to...

When I was growing up, I never ate lunch in the school cafeteria. The first time I did eat in a school cafeteria was on my first day of college. It was pretty awful, and I had an even greater appreciation for the brown bag lunches that my Mom packed for me and my sisters every single morning. In elementary school we walked home for lunch every day. But once we entered junior high, my sisters and I brought our lunch from home. Our mother would pack a sandwich, piece of fruit and a cookie and put them in the classic brown bag. Sometimes she would put a hard-boiled egg, left-over chicken, or anything else that was handy. Lunch was always predictable and reliable. However, one day each year, our mother took a few liberties with our lunches. She had a great sense of humor, and loved a good joke. Every...