Writing - the ups and downs

We're going away for Thanksgiving dinner and I'm giving thanks for the invitation to our daughter's house. No three days of cooking for this mom. My oldest daughter does the turkey just the way I like it, tender and moist - she's a great cook and while there are many things I love about her, I especially love that she's a good cook and loves to cook. It's one other thing that we share as well as our love of books and reading. That's a whole other blog - all the books we've shared over the years. She started out just as I did. Reading books in bed late at night as a teen when she was supposed to be sleeping. To our special dinner, I'm contributing the stuffing, candied sweet potatoes, plus the cherry and pumpkin pies. I may do homemade rolls as well. I know the grand kids who'll be there, Dan and Jillian, love my rolls and so they will be appreciated. All right, so I love them too! Today I made the pie crusts and put them into the freezer. M

Grandma’s Rocking Chair by: B.W. Grandma’s rocking chair - passed on to our daughter - headed for Wisconsin loaded in a U Haul, nestled between an antique secretary, and a refinished dresser - mirror long gone. Our three year old triplet grandchildren, faces pressed to the window of the van, wave good bye to me and grandpa in the driveway, their tears breaking our hearts. Our daughter, Jill, heavy with the child of her new husband, hums to the children And soon they are fast asleep. The rocking will start while baby is in the womb, this new grandson of ours, whose name before he's even born, is Austin Cole. He will learn from his mother How rocking soothes the soul. Nourishes the spirit. Links us one to the other And to generations past and future. just as we were linked as children forming the circle for ring around the rosey. -the end- Comments Welcome!

RED MARBLES By Anonymous I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas. I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me. 'Hello Barry, how are you today?' 'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good.' 'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?' 'Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time.' 'Good. Anything I can help you with?' 'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas.' 'Would you like to take some home?' asked Mr. Miller. 'No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.' 'Well, what have you