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Arty rules are rubbery

It’s not that I hate saying it; I hate having to say it. Arty rules are rubbery.

When writing, whether for a fiction market or in a memoir, the rules aren’t immutable. 570 more words


Moving On

Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been a month since my last blog post.

Actually, a few days more than a month. This was an unanticipated break in my exploration of the art of contentment. 1,082 more words



Long before recycling became popular—now mandatory in most counties in California—our single trash barrel for a family of four was seldom half-full for the weekly pickup. 431 more words

Violet Carr Moore

Braiding Sweetgrass

“Hold out your hands and let me lay upon them a sheaf of freshly picked sweetgrass, loose and flowing, like newly washed hair… Hold the bundle up to your nose. 542 more words


Cancer Graduation Day

It finally came.

The day I’ve been looking forward to for 10 years.

I went to see my oncologist yesterday and she said, “Congratulations. You have graduated from oncology.” 711 more words


Rosey (On Being Better)

The first time I met Rosey, I almost didn’t meet Rosey. I had been warned that she was having health issues, so I assumed the worst when no dog met me at the door. 1,067 more words


Life Slips Past

How am I doing?

Oh, I guess I’m doing fine

It’s been so long now,

But it seems now, that it was only yesterday

Gee, ain’t it funny, how time slips away… 812 more words

Personal Essay