I learned long ago, never to wrestle with a pig. You get dirty, and besides, the pig likes it. – George Bernard Shaw “Maren, you’re killin’ me here!” This was the daily mantra of Justine,* my old boss, more than
It little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Matched with an agèd wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I loved you from afar for so long. I first saw you on stage at The Nutcracker, and immediately I wanted to be in your arms. I was so young then, a child — far too young for this kind
Last weekend, I sang the alto solo in a performance of Mozart’s Requiem in Reading, PA. I had a great time, and the choir (made up of the Reading Choral Society and the MasterSingers of the Berks Classical Children’s Chorus)
I was six years old when my mother started teaching me how to cook. We started by making chocolate chip cookies, and I loved the idea that you could take several different things, mix them up, and they would magically
Madness runs in my family. My mother assures me that its power dilutes with each generation, so the worst I might experience is some anxiety or depression. I hope she’s right. Because I’ve seen it for myself. I’ve felt its