Sally’s Blog

 

I Wanna Be .  . .

I Wanna Be . . .

Normally, my seventh period class furnished a quiet end to the school day, but not today. From my desk on right hand side, waiting for the final bell, I was more or less listening when a major interruption breezed in. It was several of my classmates, laughing and...

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Instrumental

Instrumental

7:45 A.M. Ready for the day, I walk into the kitchen and there where I left them drying last night, are three graduated though un-matched pans. Oh, it’s Father Bear, Mama Bear, and Baby Bear. The old faithfuls! Ready for yet more service—no rest for the weary around...

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First Christmas Tree

First Christmas Tree

“Let’s go out in the woods and cut our own Christmas tree!” December 1957, Eastham, Massachusetts. I was eleven. After years of two-week vacations on Cape Cod, which I’d always considered a magic summer kingdom, my parents and I had moved—to Cape Cod! We were just...

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C is for . . .

C is for . . .

Sometimes when I can’t sleep and my mind’s all stirred up, I lie in bed and calm myself by making up an alphabetical list: towns in my state, for instance, the names of books, or favorite foods. Just the other night, I got going on Thanksgiving. An ample subject!...

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A Reader’s Garden of Books

A Reader’s Garden of Books

Traveling this past summer, as always I took books with me, and as always, bought more along the way. Though I also brought a Nook e-reader, I got held up in the TSA line because I didn’t remove it from my carry-on for scanning; the agent could hardly believe this...

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Around the Table

Around the Table

Thinking of my recent trip to Cape Cod, I notice that some of the most interesting things which happened, I didn’t plan on. For instance a three -course “menu” of happenings at restaurants, starting with yet another round of oysters on the half shell ordered by my...

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Time In Water

Time In Water

Recently dear friends invited Andy and me to a pool party, with the special purpose of our grandson meeting their two grandchildren; all three eleven or twelve years old. Though I’d worried how the arranged introduction would work, the kids clicked right away and we...

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Blooming

Blooming

Here’s a neighborhood landmark, located on the corner of the street above mine. For a long time, no one’s paid it much heed; the sign’s been “just part of the landscape.” Until just the other day. I drove by, glanced to the right—and saw that the sign stood alone....

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