Sweet Redress


(Photo: Hannes Wolf on Unsplash)


She didn’t mean for it to happen. Or she did.

She was no saint.

Sure, decades have passed. Much water under bridges.

A better person would have let it go.

Not Linda.

Not when Marilee had deliberately spilled nail polish onto Linda’s gown on competition day.

Twenty years of rumination.

Until … Marilee’s brand new car.

Linda gifted a young neighbor with spray paint.

An aspiring painter with bad aim.

Sweet revenge.




For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt of: Revenge in 72 words


Madam Toole


Photo: Mick Haupt on Unsplash


Madam Toole

Had a rule:

No one sitting

On her stool.

That chair

Was her





For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt of “rule” in 16 words


Little Brother


(Photo: Jan Kopřiva on Unsplash)


When he grew up, he was going to be like his big brother.

Tall. Proud. Sturdy. Up to the task.

For now, he had to comfort himself with the benefits of smaller stature.

Getting into nooks and crannies, fitting where his brother could not bend or fold to reach.

When he grew up, he was going to be like his brother.

Heavily bristled. Proudly mustached.

Meanwhile, Brush put his still-short-bristles to good use through many chores.

This way, once grown, he could graduate to being a Broom.



For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Brush in 87 words


The Better To See You



They were almost at their hotel when they decided to explore one more alley. The afternoon light painted shadows on cracked asphalt and colored the buildings sepia-toned.

How apt, Barbara thought, for an antique shop.

Phrenology skulls stared blankly through incongruous shades. Ancient radios stood amidst forgotten family photographs.

“Shall we check it out?”

Avigdor shuddered. “I feel watched.”

Barbara’s arm hairs raised at the thought. Or was it more? She giggled, a bit too loudly. They wouldn’t, would they? Not all the way here?

Avigdor turned to leave. The neon glasses blinked.

“Won’t you come in?” a skull voiced.



For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt: © Roger Bultot

Six Year Anniversary



So … the above just appeared in my notifications.

I stared at it a moment. Because, you see, I would’ve thought it was longer than six years. I also would’ve thought it couldn’t possibly have been six years already … Yet, there it is. Time doing the odd thing it knows to do as it spirals around.

Can’t ever hold on to time. It is a slippery thing, it is. Can hardly hold on to stats, seeing how they dance around. It is folly to try.

But I thought I would, anyhow, just for fun, post a snapshot of this moment in time. Even if it will change as soon as I post this, as soon as you see this, as soon as any one of you reacts or comments or clicks on this.

Still. Just because …

Here are a few stats:

  • 1681 posts
  • 72,111 visitors from practically every country in the world!

By the time your eyes rest on this, the numbers are already different … The values are not … Because the numbers have little meaning. Many blogs have more than this a day. Many more still have less. What does matter, to me, is you. That you read this. That you are part of this. That you matter. That you are you. You made this. With me.

I am especially moved that this little tiny sliver of a blog in the big vast space of the Internet, has had visitors from every corner of the globe. From countries large and small, from the smallest islands to the largest landmasses, from a multitude of cultures and languages and ways of life, from countries that we’re supposed to believe don’t get along, or won’t, or don’t care.

This is proof we do. Care. Because we are first and foremost humans. No matter where we were born, under what flag, to what faith or belief or upbringing, in what skin, to what family, to which doctrine. We all share this one home. We’re roommates on a blue marble hurtling through space. Equally precious. Equally worthy. We all are made of the same atoms. We breathe the same air. Drink the same water. Are tethered to the same core gravity. The same moon. Under the same sun. In the same cluster of souls riding the great vastness of Space.

So, you see, to me this little corner of the Internet — along with many others like it — is a window to our universality. To what we can be if we so choose. I’m honored. I’m humbled. I’m grateful to have the opportunity see through this window, through others’ windows, to have others look in through mine. To share light.

So, in this moment, and every moment, know that I am deeply thankful.

For you. For each and every one.

And I’m hopeful that we can, together … read more, write more, see more, share more, listen more, understand more, be more, be kind.



100,000 Thank Yous!


To all of you

Who follow, visit, read, ‘like,’ and comment …

For making possible this milestone of reaching over



I am so very grateful!



beautiful beautiful flowers bouquet color

Photo by Rosie Ann on Pexels.com


Unsettled Settings

colorful toothed wheels

Photo: Digital Buggu on Pexels.com


So, WordPress has had a bit of a snafu … where settings of some accounts have been somehow unilaterally altered, resulting in people not receiving email notifications for new posts from some websites.

I found out about the problem when I stopped receiving email notifications from my own blog to my own new posts …

WordPress support looked into it, and it seems that ‘something’ (WordPress doesn’t know, but I highly suspect goblins, who are known for mischief) had turned off new-post-email-notifications on my subscription to my own site! I had to manually go in to turn it back on, and it seems I am not alone …

If you hadn’t received emails about new posts from me over the last 2-3 days, I recommend checking that your new-posts-email-notifications are still turned on.

It only takes a moment.

Here’s how:

  1. Go to: https://wordpress.com/following/manage

  2. Scroll down the lists of websites you follow till you see my blog/website — there will be a little ‘setting’ cogwheel button underneath the “following” indicator.

  3. Click on the ‘settings’ and a small window will open. If the “email me new posts” option isn’t turned on, ‘switch it on’ and you’ll be all set.

[You can do the same with other websites you follow if you suspect you’ve somehow stopped getting emails about new posts from them – good indicator is if you can still see posts from them in your ‘Reader’ but hadn’t gotten emails about those posts.]

THANK YOU for reading this, and please let me know in the comments if you had similar issues and/or if your settings had been ‘goblinized’ … I am grateful to all of you who follow my blog and read my posts, and wouldn’t want anyone to miss posts from me or from other bloggers due to technical glitches and mishaps.

As for the goblins … may they go frolic with dragons and elves over pots of gold at ends of rainbows, and leave us humans to our bloggizations. Amen.


Time To Play

With the world now turning inward

Slumbering in winter’s grasp—

Find time to play.

With this New Year somehow ticking

Almost a full month of its spin—

Make time for play.

In the hustle of cold mornings,

Early darkness,

Frozen windshields,

Icy drafts—

Carve time.



Put aside the chores and laundry,

The notes, reports, reviews and worries,

The ever adding tasks of day—

And play.

Refresh your heart

Renew your spirit

Rejuvenate the wonder of all things you knew and dreamt of

Way back in the day,

And allow yourself—once more—or finally

To concentrate in utter flowing focus

Hard at play.

Photo Credit: E.F.

Photo Credit: E.F.

(Originally published in Spa Corner–January 2012)

Your child hates books. Now what?

Photo Credit: S.L.

Photo Credit: S.L.

Many of the kids I see do not like reading. They find reading hard. They find it challenging. The words are too new or too many or too complicated. The letters transpose and the spelling’s tricky. They don’t like answering questions. Summaries give them stomach aches and rashes. They choose books not by topic but by least page number, thinnest spine, biggest font, and most page-gobbling illustrations. They become experts as word-counting and can pick the shortest paragraph in a glance. They often complain that they hate all books. That no genre speaks to them. For them, reading equals schoolwork, books are naught but tedious demand, and stories are equated with comprehension tests and loathsome reading responses.

Granted, the children who require Speech Therapy are often predisposed to some difficulty. They struggle with language/learning issues, they may have dyslexia, dysgraphia, learning disorders, language delay, word retrieval issues, auditory processing problems, hearing loss, attention deficit, difficulties with identifying, understanding and responding to social demands.

It would make sense that they would not like reading, concentrating as it often does all of those needed skills into a neatly typed package of condensed language. It would make sense that books would feel intimidating, crowded with small-font letters, complicated words and confusing expressions and metaphors.

All true. Yet truth remains that many children who are not language/learning disabled hate books. Maybe your child does, too. Maybe you have tried cajoling, bribing, promising, charting, stars, stickers, brownie points … and they still prefer cod liver oil to reading. Don’t despair–it does not have to be this way.

We can change that. You can change that. Here’s how:

All too often we confuse books and stories with reading. Teachers and parents clump together the child’s reading level with their interest level and language level, though those are not always compatible. Also, we stop reading TO the children and ask them to read aloud to us instead. It is good practice, we are told, we believe. It “counts” toward the 20-minutes-a-day requirement from school and catches two birds with one stone–story time and reading homework. Done. In addition, it makes us feel good to “keep tabs” on the child’s progress, and unwittingly, we make every page a test of skill, every story a piece of work. When the child resists, some parents are told to strike a compromise: “take turns reading,” they are told. It makes the book move faster, yes. It also pulls the child out of whatever listening and imagining the story they might otherwise manage, and thrusts them into the arduous task of deciphering and vocalizing. No wonder they become masters of paragraph word counting.

Children’s reading level may be far below that of the language they should and can enjoy listening to. This is true not only in First Grade, but through the elementary and middle school years. Focus on reading at the child’s reading level only, and the child is bored. Focus on reading age-appropriate books only, and the child is constantly failing to keep up as she struggles to decipher, loses track, loses interest, sees books as “too hard!”

Reading is a world onto itself. It is a skill, but also a place for wandering in a dream and conjuring up pictures from a story. It is where the association between book and pleasure can come in.

Have a child who is reading reluctant? First and foremost, divorce the reading task from the world of stories. Take upon yourself to read TO the child. Find a childhood book you loved or a story that is of interest for the child (and no, you don’t have to start with David Copperfield, the Iliad, or Huckleberry Finn…). Read it to them. This is for pleasure. Not for tallying pages for a log or counting down the minutes for homework. Not for testing, either. No demands from the child but to relax and listen. No turn taking. No asking questions to reassure yourself how much the child understood. No queries about vocabulary words you “think the child should know” unless the child stops you to ask. Let the child absorb whatever their heart lets in, even if they daydreamed half-way into the story–there is no test at the end of this one, no requirement to keep on track. You, too, relax into the book with them and read awhile. You are not wasting time but investing in the child’s internal imagery and listening. You are building book-love.

Stop before the child tires of listening. Even better, leave the reading at a cliff-hanger till the next evening. It works for TV episodes and a good mystery. It works for children, too. It gives a taste of ‘more’.

For the child’s own reading–offer books that are almost too easy but not quite. Don’t over-reach. Don’t urge them to “try something harder for a change”–one or two words that are difficult to read in every page are more than enough. Don’t push them to read “this book because I have read this and loved it when I was your age.” Don’t urge on them the book another child in class “already read a year ago.” Reading is not about just getting through the page. It is not about struggling so much to read each sentence that you must re-read it to know what it meant. Reading is about success and flow, words that string together into sentences with little effort and almost no breaks. More than the story itself, you want the child to have a sense of mastery over reading. A sense that they can read and are not exhausted by it. Make it fun. Be enthusiastic but not cloying (children have a super sensitive bull-detector for such stuff, as you know).

Keep at it. Especially keep at reading TO the child. Children who are read to through 8th Grade have bigger and more flexible vocabularies than children who are not being read to. Reading to children fosters richer imaginations and creativity. It helps with predicting and inferences, at understanding nuance, satire, metaphor, and humor. All that said–remember–the stories you read TO the child are not a platform for testing them for knowledge or comprehension. After all, when you pick up a bestseller or a favorite novel, you don’t have to write a narrative about it later … you are not made to answer formal questions about vocabulary, who did what to whom when why or where, or to find examples of simile and metaphor …

Keep at it. Soon enough you’d find yourself leaving the book (cliff hanger dangling) someplace within the child’s reach, and catch a little nose stuck in it when you aren’t looking. An insider’s hint: this works even better with a flashlight within reach and a off-handed story about how your aunt or uncle or second-cousin got into trouble reading under the covers after lights were officially to be out …

Have fun, and may the reading fairies smile.