Wisdom and whimsy in moderate doses
A couple of weeks ago, I had a nightmare. About kittens. In the dream, I was pulling kittens out of the closet in the utility room of my grandmother’s house. There’s one wall of cabinets, and every time I found a kitten and handed it off to some unknown person, she’d put the kitten outside.… Continue reading Kittens
One of my favorite stories with my grandmother: Two years ago, we went to my grandmother’s for a family Christmas. My mother, my sister and her husband and I were there, along with my mother’s sister and her family (husband, three kids, one daughter-in-law and a granddaughter) and their brother and his family (wife and… Continue reading Cheers
While looking for a safe deposit key that my grandmother had somewhere, we made many interesting finds. (I definitely get my pack-rat tendencies from her.) Along with a lot of random jewelry scattered about (some costume, some antique, some just plain scary), a set of (antique) chatter teeth, a series of books that my mother… Continue reading My grandmother, the drug mule
The funeral home sent me basic info they’d collected to write the obituary for my grandmother, Celia Spillman. She’s going to be buried at Edinburg Cemetery, where her parents, Clarence and Bessie Fulkerson, and grandparents, Theophilus and Phylenah Fulkerson, are also buried. I didn’t know where Edinburg was, so I Googled it. Edinburg Cemetery is… Continue reading Hrm. Kind of appropriate?
My family doesn’t really understand what I do for a living. The simple answer, if people ask, is “journalist.” More precisely, a Web and page designer. Some of my family members still ask when they’ll see my name in the paper. (As in “byline,” not “police report.” Although either one had better be a long… Continue reading Journalist = obituary writer